My dad showed up three hours later, and we set off to the eye doctor. I was now able to open my eyes for longer segments of time without wanting to die, but only while wearing my darkest pair of sunglasses.
Once we got there, I had to fill out two pages of paper work. Naturally.
Fortunately, it was no longer a breathless Baywatch type of scenario, but more of an I’m-on-the-top-of-Mount-Everest-and-its-constantly-much-harder-to-breathe type of situation. Honestly, it was much harder to endure listening to the people on The Chew talk about puddings as I waited for half an hour with my eyes closed.
|Quick! Give me a toothpick! Oh God it hurts!|