After losing limbs or digits, people often feel the existence of "phantom" incarnations of the missing part(s). All I lack are four wisdom teeth and one mysterious molar that was never there, and a "phantom tooth" sounds really lame ... so my body has decided to create a particle in my left eye to compensate for the lack of impressive ghostly organs. It has been three days so far of almost intolerably scratchy "something's in there," a something that I cannot see, cannot rinse out, cannot rub out, cannot cry out. I caved in yesterday and bought a small bottle of eyedrops, hoping for some relief.
Since I have had glasses for most of my life, I have developed a strong aversion to touching my eyes. It took me years to learn how to use mascara, and that only happened because it was better than the alternative ... somebody sticking the wand in my eye! My attempt to adopt hard contacts was a total failure. Watching me try to use the eyedrops I purchased is also pretty hilarious. If only the agony would stop without this step! I swear I got a third of the bottle on my face before finally landing one dose in my troubled occular apparatus. I couldn't bear to look in the mirror to do it, because I would reflexively jerk the bottle away from my face whenever I saw the drop descending towards my eye. I eventually had to lie down and merely worry about holding my eyelids open ... let gravity do the rest!
The drops have not eased the problem. Mercy!
I'd have something else to write here, but this has been pestering me so much I have thought of little else (and have done even less). Bah!
[Edit: Whiskey tango foxtrot, mate! Amtrak has sold out!?]