(This picture has nothing to do with jalapenos. But it does have to do with cooking. So... 1-for-2?)

I have been doing my best impression of a blur today as I rush around getting work things done, getting packing things done, and getting photography things done. That’s a lot of things for just one of me. (Does anyone have a cloning device they’d be willing to loan me? Anyone?) In an effort to maintain what residual sanity I have left after it all , I’m bringing to you a past post from my since-retired blog.

God speed.

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June 30, 2010 — Have you ever heard of gazpacho? It’s a cold, summer-type soup, tomato-based and chock-full of vegetables. Well I decided yesterday while working away that I needed to have a healthy dinner. And what’s healthier than vegetable-y (Emily’s word, not mine) soup? So I diligently copied down the recipe and after work went to the store for supplies.

All good and well, yes? Looks innocent enough.

Simple.

No problem.

All right, so here we go. I puree, chop, dice, mix, add, and blend, and with relatively little effort I have at hand, gazpacho. And it tastes great (not to toot my horn or anything). By all appearances, this endeavor is a success.

We eat, I clean up, go out on a photo adventure, have a great night, return home and like every other night of my life since getting contact lenses six years ago, I get into my pajamas, and remove my contacts. Harmless, typical behavior.

Now, what you have to bear in mind is that that recipe up there, it calls for a single, seeded and minced jalapeno pepper. Don’t forget that.

I go to bed. Sleep beautifully. As I don’t have to work until noon the next day, I sleep in, relax, and follow the same morning routine. That is, until I get to the part where I take those oh so harmless contacts, removed without a second thought just hours before, and put them back into my eye sockets.

The previous night, as we milled about the kitchen munching on gazpacho, my mother asked if I’d ever accidentally rubbed my eyes after handling jalapeno peppers. No, I reply, have you? She had, years ago when all of us children were much younger.

Now, my mother, God bless her, has given birth to four children. Four. That’s a lot of labor and physical, let’s say…discomfort. (Every mother out there just laughed incredulously at that choice of words.) And according to my mother, that experience of getting jalapeno juices into her eyes was more excruciating than child birth.

Keep that in mind too.

Back to that morning. I’m standing in the bathroom, the contact lens for my left eye is on my finger, and I oh so slowly reach up to reinsert it……

You all know where this is going right? If this were a bad horror movie you’d all be yelling, “Don’t do it, Anya! The ax murderer is hiding in the closet!”

Except that in this tale, the ax murderer is the rather lethal oils of that seemingly innocent, seeded and minced jalapeno, and it was hiding not in a closet, but in the minuscule folds of my fingers when I had removed my contacts the night before. As far as I can figure, I hadn’t been particular enough about scrubbing my hands after making dinner (don’t be grossed out, I did wash them!). So there were still some fiery jalapeno oils lingering on my fingers, and when I removed my contacts, those oils transferred from my hands, to the lens, to the case that I keep them soaking in over night. Which gave them a good seven hours to really saturate in those oils like holiday revelers in a hot springs spa.

The pain was instantaneous, not some twinge that increased into a flare, that eventually turned into a burning pain. This sucker meant business.  And let me tell you, my mother wasn’t joking.

My eyelid clamped shut immediately, encasing the contact between my eyeball and lid and I literally dropped to the floor in agony. I knew I had to get that lens out of my eye in order to assess the damage being wrought to my poor cornea and more importantly at that exact moment, make that awful, awful pain go away. I knew this, but I couldn’t open my eye. It wouldn’t budge.

Instinctively, my eyelid thought it had to stay closed in order to fend off further burning attacks. Didn’t seem to occur to the poor eyelid that it was actually causing more damage than not.

Several deep breaths later I managed to stand back up and wrench open my eye long enough to rip the offending piece of soft plastic out of there. Oh my, dear readers, the war zone that was my eye. I’ve never seen the thing look so red, ravaged and watery. I think if it had had any say in the matter, it would have abandoned ship, jumped out of the socket and found a more careful human being to gently nurse it back to health. Unfortunately for it, no such luck.

Twelve hours after the fact, I’m happy to report it has recuperated nicely. I popped open some fresh lenses, washed and rewashed my hands and started anew. I don’t believe there’s any permanent damage, but we’ll just have to see what the good doctor says next time I go for a checkup.

Thank heavens I have health insurance…

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I’m even more happy to report, nearly a year later, that there was no lasting damage. Rejoice! I do still get all cringe-y with memory of the pain however.  Never again!

I will attempt to bring you an update or two from the east coast, but if something goes awry and I’m unable to, everyone please take care this weekend and I will see you Tuesday!