Breaking Contact

There's nothing quite as frightening as a doctor holding your eyelids open and saying "nurse, fetch the orange needle, would you?" This was how I spent my Sunday morning. The morning had started well. Mum wanted to go to church, so I was busy getting ready. I popped in my right contact lens, and then the left one. My eye exploded in pain. I couldn't see properly out of it, but I could feel that the contact was there. Could I get at it? No. Could my Mum get at it? No.

So, an hour later I was in the Patrick Stead hospital in Halesworth, having my eye washed out. When the lens started coming out in sections, the doctor called for the needle. My, such fun. The net result is that I had to abstain from driving for a day, computers for 48 hours and wearing contacts for two weeks. I am officially a speccy git for the next fortnight. Still, at least I can see.