I'm bringing "d'uh" to a whole new level.
Tonight I accidentally put two contact lenses into one eye.
I always put in the right contact lens and then the left, and I follow this pattern strictly as part of my obsessive-compulsive routine. I put the right lens in my eye, blinked and added saline and it was in A-OK. Next, I took the left lens in my hand and doused it in saline solution, then poised it to put it in my left eye, but for some reason I didn't remember that it was aimed for the left eye, apparently thinking I hadn't put the right lens in yet, and put the left lens in my right eye, my right eye that already had the right lens inside it. I dropped saline into the eye and blinked, and wondered what on earth could be wrong, because the lens had gone in properly but my vision was blurry, except for when I squinted, and then I seemed to be able to see out of half of my eye. I put my hand over my left eye to test that the right lens was working, but for some reason didn't test the reverse.
Thinking the lens must be folded, I checked a mirror (I don't normally use a mirror when putting in my lenses, which I'm told is strange), and the lens seemed to be in fine, so I pulled on it and it folded and I put it back in saline solution in its case. I tried again. I put the lens on my hand and doused it in saline, then poised it, again, to go into the right eye. I blinked and added saline again, and still found the same half blurry vision I had encountered the first time. I looked in the mirror again, saw that the lens was fine, readied myself to take it out and then gasped as I realized that I had inadvertently put both lenses into my right eye, twice. This was the first time I can ever remember hearing and feeling myself gasp at the moment of realization. I'd always thought that only happened in books and movies or when you were so startled you didn't even notice the gesture. Maybe it's because I've been reading for most of the day for almost a week now, and when I am in the middle of a book, my inner narrative becomes stronger and I tend to unintentionally narrate my every action, on top of the other many layers of thought that go on in my head all the time. But whatever the reason, I gasped at exactly the same time as the thought, and heard and felt the gasp, and realized as I was realizing and gasping that I had never noticed those two things occurring at the same time.
Finally realizing the problem and becoming increasingly amused at myself for letting it happen, I took both lenses out of my right eye, discarded them, and put fresh lenses correctly in each respective eye. I put everything away, the towel, the mirror, my store of extra lenses, the empty case, and my glasses in their case, added saline to each eye, blinked them dry, and went on my merry way, laughing at myself the whole time.
If you've ever wondered if you can comfortably fit two soft contact lenses in one eye, the answer is yes. But you won't be able to see very well.
I always put in the right contact lens and then the left, and I follow this pattern strictly as part of my obsessive-compulsive routine. I put the right lens in my eye, blinked and added saline and it was in A-OK. Next, I took the left lens in my hand and doused it in saline solution, then poised it to put it in my left eye, but for some reason I didn't remember that it was aimed for the left eye, apparently thinking I hadn't put the right lens in yet, and put the left lens in my right eye, my right eye that already had the right lens inside it. I dropped saline into the eye and blinked, and wondered what on earth could be wrong, because the lens had gone in properly but my vision was blurry, except for when I squinted, and then I seemed to be able to see out of half of my eye. I put my hand over my left eye to test that the right lens was working, but for some reason didn't test the reverse.
Thinking the lens must be folded, I checked a mirror (I don't normally use a mirror when putting in my lenses, which I'm told is strange), and the lens seemed to be in fine, so I pulled on it and it folded and I put it back in saline solution in its case. I tried again. I put the lens on my hand and doused it in saline, then poised it, again, to go into the right eye. I blinked and added saline again, and still found the same half blurry vision I had encountered the first time. I looked in the mirror again, saw that the lens was fine, readied myself to take it out and then gasped as I realized that I had inadvertently put both lenses into my right eye, twice. This was the first time I can ever remember hearing and feeling myself gasp at the moment of realization. I'd always thought that only happened in books and movies or when you were so startled you didn't even notice the gesture. Maybe it's because I've been reading for most of the day for almost a week now, and when I am in the middle of a book, my inner narrative becomes stronger and I tend to unintentionally narrate my every action, on top of the other many layers of thought that go on in my head all the time. But whatever the reason, I gasped at exactly the same time as the thought, and heard and felt the gasp, and realized as I was realizing and gasping that I had never noticed those two things occurring at the same time.
Finally realizing the problem and becoming increasingly amused at myself for letting it happen, I took both lenses out of my right eye, discarded them, and put fresh lenses correctly in each respective eye. I put everything away, the towel, the mirror, my store of extra lenses, the empty case, and my glasses in their case, added saline to each eye, blinked them dry, and went on my merry way, laughing at myself the whole time.
If you've ever wondered if you can comfortably fit two soft contact lenses in one eye, the answer is yes. But you won't be able to see very well.