Thursday, July 10, 2008

So much for compassion

I was putting in my contacts this morning. My right contact slipped off my finger and onto the sink. I picked it up, rinsed it, and inserted it into my eye.

Apparently, I didn't rinse it well enough. And apparently Karina hadn't completely finished wiping the bleach off the sink when she washed it yesterday.

Ever had a firebrand stuck through your eyeball? Yep, I think it felt about like that. And, since my eyelid slammed closed in agony, and since my eye was watering like a firehose, it took about 5 minutes to get said contact out of my eye.

So eventually everything gets squared away, both the contact and the eyeball are thoroughly rinsed out, and I enter back into life with only a vague stinging sensation, and the horrific memories of five minutes of sheer torture.

At the breakfast table, I share this story, perhaps to receive some sympathy for all that agony, but no. As my impressive, tear-stained story draws to a close, Clara pipes up, "But Daddy, I have a cut on my toe!"

And any empathy that would have been mine goes instead to her toe, which was slightly cut by a barnacle in the Puget Sound yesterday.

Sometimes I wonder if we do the same to God. He's up there saying "My son got killed for you!" and we're down here going "I'm so upset because I can't afford those new jeans!"

But that would be to overspiritualize things, I suppose. Really, I was just wondering how life came to this, where a near-blinding can be overcome by a tiny scratch on the toe of a three-year-old? Kids today have no compassion, I tell you what.

1 comment:

Lori said...

Ouch! That sounds painful. You have MY sympathy Dan. And tell us how is your foot? You are a walking disaster area these days. But we love you and hope the best for you. Later dude.