My so-called journal

Well, who isn't, these days?

Yesterday I broke up with my optometrist; I didn't expect to, but the university has a policy in which they don't allow masks that have vents on the front. I had taped up the vents with gaffers tape and showed this to the guard at the front desk, but he wouldn't budge, so I left. (Plus, the mask has an N95 filter inside.)

I'm feeling pretty hung-over about this decision to leave, but there's nothing I can do now. I wrote an email to my doctor at the University Optometric Center explaining why I hadn't been at the appointment and why I was leaving. I admitted it was a "pretty odd hill to die on," but I felt it was better to give the security guard power in this situation. My (now ex-) doctor has not returned the email. I reason he's a popular doctor and will appreciate having his schedule freed up even by just one less patient.

I also have to return the lenses; they're scleral lenses—meaning they cover the entire iris and a little more. They provided superb comfort, because only the edge of the lens touches the cornea; the lens itself vaults over the eye. I only wore them for a few weeks and they're in good condition. I may ask if I can mail them; I'll gladly pay the postage and insurance if I never have to set foot in there again.

Although the State University also operates an Ophthalmology school, word is that the optometry school is so good, even the ophthalmology school students and faculty go to them for their glasses and contacts. I may have my records switched to the Ophthalmology school, though; there's no rush.