Ommetaphobia is the fear of anything coming into contact with one’s eyes.
Ommetaphobia-extremia is my fear of anything coming into contact with my eyes.
For me, a trip to the eye doctors is like being dropped onto a deserted island (occupied only by cannibals and wild animals) with just a pack on my back for survival. In fact, I’m pretty sure that I’d prefer the deserted island. I like the odds so much better.
So for the past few years, I’ve ignored the fact that I probably could use a very mild eye-glass subscription. I’ve always stubbornly said that I refused to get a pair of glasses until I turned 30. And then I turned 30. So I ran out of logical excuses.
Since everyone knows that it’s perfectly logical to refuse to get a pair of glasses until you’ve reached a certain age.
However, I recently found myself at the eye doctor’s for a routine eye exam. Well, there was also the eye-exhaustion issue, caused by long hours at the office. I was experiencing some major dry-eye problems, including blood-shot eyes. Trust me, the Twlight series is lying to you about all that vampire stuff. There is nothing attractive about red eyes. I’ve been walking around with red eyes for days and not one person has become infatuated with me or asked for my autograph.
I’m pretty sure that all I managed to do was scare one poor man, who – after catching sight of me –proceeded to throw garlic in my direction.
Oh, wait, that was Nate. I think he was just hoping for more garlic in the spaghetti sauce.
My eye-doctor is extremely thorough, and he was concerned about one of the symptoms I was experiencing. This resulted in test after torture test. And after he had ruled out pretty much everything, he decided to do a pressure test on both of my eyes, as one final precaution. For this procedure, your eyes are numbed and then a rubbery-looking instrument is pressed lightly into your eyes to find out whether or not they’ll explode.
Or something like that… All I know is that it wasn’t fun.
At the end of my eye-doctor visit, I was declared perfectly healthy, but I was given a very mild prescription for glasses to wear on occasion. The doctor was way too excited to write me that prescription, in my opinion. When I admitted that it was my first pair ever, he clapped his hands with glee and asked me if I would wear them more than the prescribed only-when-your-eyes-are-feeling-strained-moments. I told him that I wasn’t sure… and he told me that eye-glasses can be such an accessory.
And here I’ve been investing in bracelets
I was also told to put mild, eye-drops in my eyes 4 times a day. Of course, he might as well have told me to shoot myself in the foot 4 times a day.
I don’t do eye-drops. They count as something coming into contact with my eyes, and I don’t care that this makes me a total baby. Throw me onto that deserted island. I don’t want those drops on my eye to land.
Get it?? On my eye to land? Eye land? Island? Yeah, I probably should get my sanity checked sometime soon too.
Anyway, getting eyedrops into my ultra-sensitive eyes became a team effort over the next few days. Poor Nate had to physically hold me down, while I tried to concentrate on not blinking before he could squeeze the drops out. Of course, this was pretty much impossible, because all I could focus on was the little drop of water that was going to land in my eye. And on the lucky occasion that a drop did land where it should, my entire body jerked as though it were being electrocuted. (Sadly, I am not exaggerating in the least here).
Of course, this was followed by me smiling and saying, “Oh, that actually felt good.”
Nate did get frustrated the first 95 attempts and muttered that we should invest in a large clamp to hold my head down. I was a little hurt, because my head isn’t that big. Surely a normal sized clamp would do the trick.
But flash-forward a few weeks, with Nate’s help, I’m actually putting my own eye-drops in now. Oh, yeah, I am the eye-drop queen. And the red eyes have gone down, except for at the end of especially long days of staring at the computer. (Still no one asking for autographs, by the way). As for the glasses, I still haven’t gone to pick up a pair quite yet.
One brave step at a time, after all. 🙂