I scratched my eyeball

My sister once told me that I should have a blog just about injury stories. I have a tendency to get hurt a lot, and it’s usually kind of ridiculous. Her suggestion was inspired by an incident last fall.

I was over at a friend’s house late one night and decided to just sleep on the couch because I was too tired to drive home. I woke up around four in the morning and realized I had fallen asleep with my arm bent over my head, resting on the arm of the couch. It was completely numb and I decided that I should probably move it down by my side so I could get the blood flowing again. I used my other hand to grab my arm by the fingertips and started lifting it over my head. It turns out that a dead arm is really heavy, especially when you are half asleep. I got my hand directly above my head and then lost my grip. Wham! I dropped my entire dead arm on my face. There was a flash of light and then my left eye started to hurt. I had scratched it with my fingernail. I’m not sure why my eyes were open, seeing as how it was completely dark, but they were and it hurt. I remember thinking, “that was stupid, but it will probably be funny later.” Little did I know.

A few hours of fighting for sleep later, I got up to go home and get ready for school. My eye was red, watery, and in pain. I thought I just needed to put in my contacts and let them adjust and then I would be fine. I made my way to school, suddenly much more sensitive to sunlight, and waited for the irritation to pass. Finally, half way through my 10-hour day on campus, I realized that not only was my eye still bothering me, but also that my vision in that eye was a little blurry. Suddenly worried, I decided I should get it looked at. I called my mom first to let her know what happened, and appreciated her sympathy. Then I called the insurance company to find out which eye doctors I could go visit in Provo. I tried to explain what happened and the woman on the phone seemed amused. I would have been, too, except that I was irrationally worried that I may have done some permanent damage. I finally found an eye doctor and was able to call and make an appointment. That phone call was about as embarrassing and confusing as the first.

On my way home from school, distressed about missing work, skipping class so early in the semester, and having to pay for a doctor’s visit, I called home and talked to my sister.

“Mom said you hurt your eye.”

“Yeah.”

“What happened?”

I started to explain. Before I could finish my sister was laughing hysterically on the other end of the line. I was ready to stop making phone calls.

Finally, after arriving at my appointment and reenacting what had happened for the receptionist, I was able to see the eye doctor, who was nice yet entertained by my story. He took a look at my eye with some fancy equipment, pulled out a piece of paper, and drew a large circle.

“Do you know what your cornea is?”

“Not really…”

“It’s the clear part of your eye that covers the colored part of your eye.”

“Oh, okay.”

He pointed to the circle. “This is your cornea.” Then he drew a jagged piece in the middle of it. “This is the part of your cornea that’s missing because you scratched it out of your eyeball.”

He said it with a bit of humor that let me know I wasn’t going to go blind. It finally all started to become kind of funny to me. Maybe it was because he had given me some eye drops that made everything feel better, or maybe I was finally realizing that my instinct was right that morning. It was definitely funny later. The doctor gave me a special contact to wear for a few days, some eye drops, and some cool sunglasses that stuck on my face and made me look like a robot. I still have them.

I am happy to report that my eye is fine, as well as my dignity. But I’m sure there will be more injury stories to come that will take care of that.