Yesterday, Scott made a disappointing discovery.
“Hey, Katrina!” He called. “Come over here and take a look at Jolie’s eye!”
I did as he asked. Indeed, things looked a little different from normal. The white of her eye had turned pink, and there was quite a bit of liquid oozing out.
“I think she has pink eye.” he said with a great deal of concern.
“I didn’t know dogs could even get pink eye.” I responded. “Isn’t that something you only get if you’re in kindergarten?”
He scooped up Jolie, nestling her in his arms while dramatically stating, “It’s definitely pink eye.” Being that he works in medicine, I assumed he knew what the heck he was talking about. Being that I’m a bit of a hypochondriac, I immediately started to go batcrap crazy. Jolie and I had basically spent the last thirty minutes sitting on the sofa and rubbing our eyeballs together.
Alright, that may be a bit of an exaggeration, but we had been snuggling, and being that pink eye is highly contagious, I was concerned to say the least. Still, life had to go on. I entered the bathroom, washing as much pink eye off my hands as possible before changing into my workout clothes. Conjunctivitis or not, I had a Turbo Kick class to teach at the gym.
By the end of class, my right eye was feeling a little irritated. I walked up to the mirrored wall in the group exercise studio so that I might further examine things. Sure enough, my right eyeball was watering like crazy, and covered with red splotchy veins.
The pink eye had got me.
Pink eye on its own is bad enough. To make matters worse, I’m attending a big wedding this weekend, and a crusty right eye the color of a piggy bank is not going to work with my dress. Grouchy and frustrated, I went downstairs to wait for Scott to finish his lap swim, blinking the offending eye as dramatically as possible the entire way there.
It was at this point that I ran into a woman who had just taken my class. She let out a loud giggle before declaring, “I’m sorry! You just look like a Pirate!”
Heh. I wish all I had was a case of the Pirates.
I explained to her that my dog had somehow contracted pink eye, and I suspected that my right eye had been contaminated. Hence, the eye-patch-esque squinting. Her giggling continued.
“I’m sorry,” she laughed, “It’s not funny, but, well…it kind of is funny!”
I smiled and nodded. Honestly, the entire situation was slightly comical.
“Plus,” she added, “I didn’t know dogs could even get pink eye.”
Neither did I, matey. Neither did I.
Fortunately, I was able to get Jolie into the local animal clinic today for an early morning appointment.
Want to know the first thing the Veterinarian said to me?
“I’m guessing Jolie is experiencing some sort of irritation. Dog’s don’t really get pink eye.”
I suppose that’s what I get for taking veterinary advice from a Dermatology P.A.
An eye stain test revealed that Jolie did in fact have irritation as the result of a pretty serious scratch her left eye. Ten minutes and $104 later, we left the clinic with some very expensive eye ointment and pain killers.
Yet none of this explains why my right eye was so red and sensitive.
This is the part where I should probably explain that I had a bit of a…um…Netflix binge over the weekend.
And by “Netflix Binge” I mean “27 episodes of ABC Family’s Pretty Little Liars via my Instant Queue”.
Before you judge, let me explain that this show has a lot of redeeming qualities.
Qualities like a captivating plot surrounding an unsolved murder, a web of lies thicker than the cobwebs in my garage, and most importantly, girls that wear really cute outfits.
Really cute outfits.
So how does the relate to my pink eye scare?
I may or may not have watched a YouTube tutorial on how do my makeup like character Hanna Marin, who unlike me, probably never gets mistaken for a pirate.
This online tutorial may or may not have suggested I use eyeliner on the inside rim of my upper and lower eyelid.
As it turns out, my right eye doesn’t like to have eyeliner on it’s inside rim.
So really, my imaginary case of pink eye was actually the universe’s way of telling me that I’m far too old to be emulating the beauty routine of a fictional high school sophomore from ABC Family.
(And that I should never follow any beauty trend that causes others to mistake me for a swashbuckling pirate.)
Lesson learned, universe. Lesson learned.