A couple weeks ago I received the latest in a long string of contact lenses we've been trying in a vain attempt to make one work. I wore it for about a week, and, as has become a custom, it didn't work. But I have to wear it anyway, seeing if it will eventually settle down.
By last Friday (the day after Thursday and the day before Saturday, after which come Sunday) it was becoming quite uncomfortable. Actually, very painful. I assumed it was just because of a bad fit.
So I had an appointment set for yesterday, to see just how this latest lens was doing. As has also become our custom, I sat in the big chair, Dr. Ralph looked at my eye through the big machine, and, upon seeing whatever he sees, he swore. I've been through this enough times to know that that's not a good sign.
So, two things. First, the lens didn't fit like he had hoped.
But more. . .it seems sometime last week my body woke up and said "hey! there's some sort of foreign object here! We need to get rid of it!" So all that pain wasn't the contact lens, it was my body trying to reject the graft. All sorts of white blood cells were flooding the eye, trying to kill off this foreign object which was actually my new cornea.
It's never a dull moment in this ongoing saga.
The good news is it's treatable with steroids, and shouldn't cause any longterm issues. The bad news is that we can't move forward with lens fitting until this is over, since it could actually change the topography of the lens. Which. . .in a convoluted way, may end up being a good thing, since the current topography isn't working out anyway.
In the meantime, if I look a little bloodshot, don't think I've been out doing something I shouldn't. It's just that my cornea is feeling a little rejected.