I’ve lost a contact.
I mean, it’s here somewhere, but I just can’t find it.
I did this morning what I always do.
Close drain.
Unscrew the right (blue) top of lens case.
Retrieve tiny blue-tinted plastic sphere on my right index finger.
Gently roll it between that finger and thumb.
Rinse under running salt-softened well water. (I’m supposed to use sterile saline. He shows me all kinds of gross photos of Acanthamoeba keratitis at every checkup.)
Hold edges between thumb and forefinger as I squirt some Boston Simplus multiaction solution.
Shift lens to tip of index finger, and pop the lens into my right eye.
Blink and dab fingers on hand towel.
Then repeat–removing blue top for left eye.
I’ve been known to mix them up. The right lens often ends up in the left eye. I don’t know how I do that, but I do know that the right is for reading, so if I close my left eye and can see from the kitchen window the black writing on the yellow “stop ahead” sign up the road, I know I’ve got them in wrong. Sometimes I switch. Sometimes I don’t bother.
This morning as I left the bathroom, I winked with my left eye and realized I couldn’t see anything with my right.
Well, much of anything.
I rubbed around my right lid with my finger. Nope. Nothing poked anywhere.
I backed up on tiptoe and returned to the mirror to inspect my eye.
Nothing.
So I began the slow methodical hunt with the intensity of the woman who searched for the lost coin.
I hung my head over the sink and ran my fingers over and through my hair.
I looked over and ran my fingers lightly over my shirt front and sleeves and the front of my jeans.
I checked my slipper tops and insides and tops of my socks.
I inspected in the sink, the counter, under the rim, the door fronts, and then dropped to my knees–lightly.
I said a prayer–or ten–while I was down there and mentally balanced the checking account.
You know where it is. Help me find it. Pleeeeeeeeese.
I scanned the floor, ran my hands over it and the small rug, then lifted the rug and shook it gently.
Then began the slow removal and light shaking of clothing, piece by piece.
Nothing.
I started the whole process over again with a flashlight.
Then I remembered the time I actually placed one contact on top of the other and did not discover it until the end of the day.
So I spent a good 10 minutes trying to split the left contact into two without luck.
I don’t have the patience of the woman who searched for the lost coin until she found it.
And she had 10 coins. I only have had two contacts.
I know it’s here somewhere.
But if it doesn’t turn up on its own before the end of the day, I’m calling the eye doctor to replace it.
Because I can.
In the meantime, when I’m in public and while I wait, my vanity will cause me to shift the one contact from eye to eye as each gets tired.
Or imagine a woman who has ten coins and loses one. Won’t she light a lamp and scour the house, looking in every nook and cranny until she finds it? And when she finds it you can be sure she’ll call her friends and neighbors: ‘Celebrate with me! I found my lost coin!’ Count on it—that’s the kind of party God’s angels throw every time one lost soul turns to God. ~Luke 15:8-10
Please forgive me for laughing until tears stream down my face. I have lived this poem!!! I really hope you find it. These small things (pun intended:) really throw a huge curve into a day! You should have a prize for your vivid accuracy!
LOL, Janet! I just realized I’ve done practically nothing today except look for it and write about it. Ha!
It’s a wonderful analogy, Sandy. I can picture you searching, just like the woman hunting for her lost coin. Given the reality of not being able to see well, I’m sure you’re frustrated. Our son wore contacts for several years, but has gone back to glasses now. Mind you, if a person is one who takes glasses on and off, they can sometimes get lost, or at least misplaced, too. I hope you’ll be seeing properly again soon. (And you really should use sterile saline.) 😉
I know…And I’d have to buy it by the gallon. My husband wore contacts for a while, but he’s gone back to glasses now, too. He thinks they are easier. Of course, I don’t know if he could wear contacts now. He’s had two cataracts removed in his 50s. (A retinal detachment followed one of those.)
I feel your pain. Just the other day I was doing laundry when one of my lenses shifted in my eye. At the time, I didn’t know that was what happened. My eye hurt and I couldn’t see. So I shut my eye tight and headed upstairs to grab some solution, thinking I had a random piece of dryer lint stuck on it.
Praying for sight. And insight to what you might learn.
And well you probably know, Cheryl, there is not much sight with glasses once the eyes have gotten used to those foreign bodies. Especially when the glasses have progressive lenses!
And I was counting on my readers for insight. 😉
On a week-long ski trip into the backcountry once, one of my fellow traveller’s husband drank from the glass she’d carefully placed her right contact into. Imagine, miles from anywhere, no phone, no electricity and no way of ordering a new contact. LOL — she threatened to make him inspect his odious output but that never happened.
Hope you find it — great story btw. I too laughed — not at you! With you 🙂
Ewwwwwww!
The first contact I ever lost went down the drain in my first apartment. I figured if I turned the water on full blast, it would float to the top.
How I can relate! I can’t even begin to tell you (at least on these pages) the quirky places my lenses have been found. I also noticed you didn’t wash your hands first — just sayin’. 🙂
LOL! Our mantra.
I posted re: this message last year. Except I had lost a driver’s license, and, while searching for it, planning to go get it replaced, while dust mopping my living room it came out from under a shelf. I rejoiced over finding the “coin”. Knew you were headed towards Luke as I was reading your post. Hope the blessing come to life for you, though, and you find it free and easy.