Today is election day - again - up here in the Great Wet North and I don't think sunglasses are allowed at the voting stations. This is a problem because I have developed a disgusting case of pinkeye! As if there is another kind.
No, I don't know where I got it. It's not allergic conjunctivitis (the least offensive of the eye inflammations) because there is no itching. I can't blame my toddler because he doesn't have it, and while he has been quite obsessed with pointing at (or in) and naming the parts of my face lately, it is highly unlikely that he managed to get a little poo on his finger and reserve it strictly for me. There are a couple of other nasty possibilities:
I work in a hospital ('nuff said)
We've been test-driving cars lately
I took the bus a couple of times last week
I've been using the same old mascara tube for way too long.
Now, I wash my hands really well and really regularly, but each of these above situations puts my hands into contact with things that other people's hand come into contact with (pens, charts, keys, steering wheels, handrails, etc.) and not all other people wash their hands as well or regularly as I do. Ok, no one else is using my mascara, but I promise I'm not wiping my ass with it.
All this to say that I realize I have contracted an eye infection that is usually - ahem - fecally transmitted - yuck. But I want to make it perfectly clear that I wash after every visit to the lou, and even after every blow of the nose, so seriously, I don't deserve this!! I've had to call in sick to work for 2 shifts, because dude, I wouldn't want me looking after me and my newborn baby right now.
At first it was just in my right eye, but it was such a joy to have around that I said, Hey, pinkeye! You're a real blast. How about bringing your party over here to my left eye? Oh - there you are already settling right in. Sweet!
Wait there's more! I also have a chest cold. Yeah, that's right, I don't do anything half-assed. I bring my fucking A-game. So you might think, It's ok, Jame, your conjunctivitis is just viral. It's because you have a cold. That's not so gross. It doesn't involve any fecal-occular connection. Well, that's nice of you to say, but there's puss.
Oh well, at least I have the sexy, raspy voice that comes with a chest cold.
Yeah . . . sexy : ) Oh, wait. Puss. Almost definitely bacterial. From poo.
Now the only horrifying question left is, Whose poo? Not mine! I wash, remember? Sam's? Only slightly more possible as I also wash after I change his diapers. Some patient? Well, I deal more in vaginas than anuses, but either way I always wear gloves and when I take them off - you guessed it - I wash. Some random colleague or stranger whose poo-covered pen or keys I used? Ew!! Am I really supposed to never touch anything of which I don't know the complete travel history? That's not reasonable. I'm sorry I can't open your medical chart because Dr. Poo-no-wash just finished writing in it and, well, one time I got pinkeye, so . . .
I guess I just can't ever touch my eyes. EVER.
THANK GOODNESS that Sam doesn't have it! Pinkeye means absolute banishment from daycare. I called this morning to make sure that the rule only applied if the child attending has it, not if there is any member of the household whose eyes bring forth puss. I'm not sure how my 19 month son has better hand hygiene than I do, but he has escaped this eye plague (so far) and so off to daycare he went this morning.
This gave me all day to get myself to the doctor's office, get a note for work and a prescription, then go to the drug store to get eye drops and a roll of heavy duty antibacterial wipes. After a quick stop at SB, where I did not take off my sunglasses despite the pouring rain outside (who cares, let them think I'm high), I headed home to spend 3 hours disinfecting the house. I donned rubber gloves and scoured the kitchen and bathroom with the regular supplies and some extra zeal, then I used almost the entire container of wipes to clean every button, switch, knob, and railing I could find. I saved a couple for the car when David gets home from work.
I've done every stitch of laundry as well. Sheets and towels in hot water (which I rarely use) and bleach (which I never use). Even Sam's bath toys are in the dishwasher on sanitize (I hope they don't melt). This house is fucking CLEAN!! I poltergeisted the bitch.
But, I still have to go vote later, and I won't be allowed to wear sunglasses; my shame on display for all at to see. Voting is important, however, so I'll suck it up and go.
In my eye.