Contact Lens Karma

My oldest daughter (ET) turned fifteen a few weeks ago, and I decided she was old enough to get contact lenses for her birthday.

She’s been asking for contacts for at least five years, but I wanted to wait until I felt she was mature enough to keep up with them and all of that. After all, we’re talking about an expensive but tiny piece of transparent plastic here. Logically, these things are going to be hard to keep up with.

Also, I myself got contact lenses at a young age (an unfortunate medical necessity at the time) and drove my mother CRAZY by ruining and/or losing them on a regular basis. But it seemed like ET was responsible enough to handle contacts at age 15.

So last Sunday we went to the Wal-Mart vision center and started the process.

They fitted her with the lenses, and said she was to wear them for increasing amounts of time for a week, and then come back the next Sunday to make sure all was well before receiving her final prescription. She had a little trouble learning to put them in and take them out; however, she was able to do it well enough.

By contrast, you should have seen the drama that ensued when ten-year old ME had to learn to insert contact lenses. My poor mother came by her prematurely gray hair honestly, let me tell you!

So I was pleasantly surprised when we spent less than half an hour on the whole “fitting” part for the contacts and were ready to go. The optometrist told me as we were leaving to remember to have ET wear the lenses every day all week.

She said, “If she loses or tears one at the end of the week, don’t worry about it; just come in on Sunday for the appointment and you’ll still get the final prescription, But if that happens early in the week, like on Tuesday or Wednesday, you’ll need to come get another pair.”

I thought, Well we shouldn’t have to worry about that. After all, it’s only a week. She should be able to keep up with them, no problem.

Ha. Ha. Ha.

On Monday ET came downstairs and said she’d lost a contact.

I said, “Already?!”

I went upstairs with her to search the bathroom, and she hovered behind me saying helpful things like, “I already LOOKED there,” and “I told you I searched for like an HOUR! It’s just not here!”

I cannot TELL you how often I had this conversation with my own mother as a kid. I recognize that I completely deserved this annoying little drama.

Bottom line: The contact was gone. I had to go back to Wal-Mart and get another one. After ONE DAY!

And I think I sprouted a few new gray hairs…

above image from bausch.com