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lenora_roseThis morning I woke to a completely new sensation; a raking hind claw stomping across my right eye socket.
OW.
(fuck)
Easy enough to understand what happened.
Élise has an unfortunate habit of leaping onto the bed by leaping onto Colin, rather than going via the foot of the bed, which is Irina's route, and not incidentally closer to the door in the first place. Since I'm the one who lets the cats sleep by me, and Colin doesn't want them there even when they aren't landing on him with their full weight and momentum, this has gotten her flung off a few times, you'd think she'd learn. Of course, it sometimes also gets her pushed, usually more gently, towards the person she's actually there to see.
Unfortunately, this time, she jumped even higher up his body than usual, and Colin shoved her my way a little too hard.
I'm not sure if I screamed or just vaulted up, I just know that my hand was pressed over my eye and there was the wild scrambling noise in the hallway that cats make when they're not quite up to teleporting but are trying to break the sound barrier. I lay there a moment in sheer reaction. Then I launched out of bed, answering Colin's "Are you ok?" with "I don't know yet!" and charged for the bathroom, to see if I was just leaking blood -- or vitreous humor.
The eye itself is fine. The short slash across my upper eyelid, on the other hand, not so much. It was bleeding badly, and when I stretched the lid to get a better look, she'd managed to open the skin really interestingly; deep and wide both. My first reaction was that it probably needed stitches, and I should head to a clinic as soon was one was open. My second, while applying alcohol to the injury, was that so long as my eye was closed or normally open, the injury stayed kind of closed too, so maybe it wasn't so bad. Colin was willing to go with whatever I thought was right, since it was my eyelid. My third impulse was to get indecisive. My fourth was to check with my local health care expert.
So I called mom. She agreed with my first impulse, although she did say I could probably sleep a few more hours, too, as it probably wasn't urgent. I decided I was pretty awake for the meantime. Colin dropped me off just before 8:00: the clinic opened at 8:30. Because I went and got a drink and a granola bar from a cafe instead of standing on the spot, I ended up about sixth in line. I was seen around 10:00. The doctor was reasonably young, a little sardonic in a way that would put one at ease, and a little impressed by the cut. He re-cleaned it (It had been leaking a little blood and a fair bit of whatever the pale clear fluid is that skin wounds leak.) put steri-bands over it because it was in a place that was really bad for stitching, and they pretty much act as plastic stitches. Oh, also a tetanus shot, because I sure can't remember when I last had one.
I almost forgot to tell him the posters in his office were fabulous. He had three of the evil cute bunny, with comments like "Vomit everywhere. Just one of the things you can do with the help of alcohol" and two from despair.com, including one on birth control.
He wants me to keep the bands on 48 hours at least, 72 if I can manage it. So I get to greet my brother at the airport in an eyepatch!
I can open the eye to about half mast, which means I can read, as I look down to do so, but most of the time, I'm better off with the full-out eye-patch, because it keeps me from trying to open it wider to see better, and it looks a lot less ugly. Colin's been doing comparisons to Frankie from Sky Captain.
But it would be the right eye. I think I'm not doing archery tomorrow. The arrows would be... interesting.
I have been getting to appreciate depth perception once again, but what I'm really missing is peripheral vision. I tend to walk around looking far more at things in the vicinity and far less at where I'm going, and count on periphery to tell me if I'm about to hit something. Not so good a habit after all, even if it has meant I've spotted more falcons in the city than most people.
Also, the strain of using one eye where you usually use two does bring on a headache.
OW.
(fuck)
Easy enough to understand what happened.
Élise has an unfortunate habit of leaping onto the bed by leaping onto Colin, rather than going via the foot of the bed, which is Irina's route, and not incidentally closer to the door in the first place. Since I'm the one who lets the cats sleep by me, and Colin doesn't want them there even when they aren't landing on him with their full weight and momentum, this has gotten her flung off a few times, you'd think she'd learn. Of course, it sometimes also gets her pushed, usually more gently, towards the person she's actually there to see.
Unfortunately, this time, she jumped even higher up his body than usual, and Colin shoved her my way a little too hard.
I'm not sure if I screamed or just vaulted up, I just know that my hand was pressed over my eye and there was the wild scrambling noise in the hallway that cats make when they're not quite up to teleporting but are trying to break the sound barrier. I lay there a moment in sheer reaction. Then I launched out of bed, answering Colin's "Are you ok?" with "I don't know yet!" and charged for the bathroom, to see if I was just leaking blood -- or vitreous humor.
The eye itself is fine. The short slash across my upper eyelid, on the other hand, not so much. It was bleeding badly, and when I stretched the lid to get a better look, she'd managed to open the skin really interestingly; deep and wide both. My first reaction was that it probably needed stitches, and I should head to a clinic as soon was one was open. My second, while applying alcohol to the injury, was that so long as my eye was closed or normally open, the injury stayed kind of closed too, so maybe it wasn't so bad. Colin was willing to go with whatever I thought was right, since it was my eyelid. My third impulse was to get indecisive. My fourth was to check with my local health care expert.
So I called mom. She agreed with my first impulse, although she did say I could probably sleep a few more hours, too, as it probably wasn't urgent. I decided I was pretty awake for the meantime. Colin dropped me off just before 8:00: the clinic opened at 8:30. Because I went and got a drink and a granola bar from a cafe instead of standing on the spot, I ended up about sixth in line. I was seen around 10:00. The doctor was reasonably young, a little sardonic in a way that would put one at ease, and a little impressed by the cut. He re-cleaned it (It had been leaking a little blood and a fair bit of whatever the pale clear fluid is that skin wounds leak.) put steri-bands over it because it was in a place that was really bad for stitching, and they pretty much act as plastic stitches. Oh, also a tetanus shot, because I sure can't remember when I last had one.
I almost forgot to tell him the posters in his office were fabulous. He had three of the evil cute bunny, with comments like "Vomit everywhere. Just one of the things you can do with the help of alcohol" and two from despair.com, including one on birth control.
He wants me to keep the bands on 48 hours at least, 72 if I can manage it. So I get to greet my brother at the airport in an eyepatch!
I can open the eye to about half mast, which means I can read, as I look down to do so, but most of the time, I'm better off with the full-out eye-patch, because it keeps me from trying to open it wider to see better, and it looks a lot less ugly. Colin's been doing comparisons to Frankie from Sky Captain.
But it would be the right eye. I think I'm not doing archery tomorrow. The arrows would be... interesting.
I have been getting to appreciate depth perception once again, but what I'm really missing is peripheral vision. I tend to walk around looking far more at things in the vicinity and far less at where I'm going, and count on periphery to tell me if I'm about to hit something. Not so good a habit after all, even if it has meant I've spotted more falcons in the city than most people.
Also, the strain of using one eye where you usually use two does bring on a headache.
