Dark Souls II gave me a viral infection.
At the very least it was a contributing factor.
Some background. I have bad eyesight and I wear contacts exclusively. During my 30th birthday party I lost my glasses and I simply didn’t replace them. I just got contacts and since that day I’ve worn them every single day. This may I turn 33 years old. This means I’ve been wearing contacts for 16 hours a day, every day for almost three years straight. Long story short, my eyeballs take a fair bit of punishment.
So when I woke up and felt an incredible amount of pain emanating from my right eyeball, I thought nothing of it. Par for the course.
It started on Wednesday last week. I woke up at 545am with my alarm and had real problems opening my eyes. The pain was sharp, water leaked out liberally as I squinched my eyelids shut. Again, I thought nothing of it.
‘I’m super tired,’ I thought to myself. ‘That must be the problem.’
And I was super tired. Since the release of Dark Souls II I’d been getting an average of 5 hours sleep a night — interrupted sleep mind you, since I share a bedroom with a 14 month old baby who has decided that sleep is for the weak.
On Friday night I had stayed up until 1.30am playing Dark Souls II. That Saturday morning my son had decided he wanted to wake up at 4.45 am. That was when I started to wonder if something had gone seriously wrong.
My right eyeball was throbbing. It was massively sensitive to light. As the sun began to rise my little boy ran in tight concentric circles gargling with excitement. I, on the other hand, was in the fetal position clutching my eyeballs, moaning in boxer shorts like a domesticated vampire as orange morning light slowly peeled into the room. That was when I realised something might be wrong.
Whatever. I went ahead and put my contact lenses in regardless. Then later, when my son went for a nap, I started playing Dark Souls II again.
Sunday morning. I wake up. Complete agony. Nope. Bugger this. I need to go to the optometrist. I walk in, 1040am. The optometrists sees me.
“Well, you’re going to have to stop wearing contacts for at least two weeks,” he says.
What the hell do you mean? I need those contacts to see things. Dark Souls II things.
Nope. He is certain. No contacts. No dice.
More tests. The Optometrist shines multiple different lights into my eyes. Weird eyedrops. At one point he actually flips over my eyelids with his finger so he can see what’s underneath. Sheer panic. I am freaking out here. I count my breaths, trying to meditate through the sheer otherworldly freakiness of another human being flipping my goddamn eyelids over.
Okay, it’s worse than he first thought. This is viral. I have a virus in my actual eye.
Have I been feeling tired, rundown, he asks. No shit, I think to myself. I’ve been exercising six days a week, doing intense training, playing Dark Souls into the wee hours before being woken up by my sociopath of a son who has absolutely no remorse or sympathy for my need of sleep. Hell yes I’ve been feeling rundown.
He nods his head. There’s more.
I’m highly infectious. I have to refrain from touching the hands of my own child, I have to limit contact with other people. I have to stay home from work. I have to wear glasses. No contact lenses, under any circumstance.
But I don’t have glasses! I need to see things!
I need to keep playing this stupid goddamn video game.
“What about glasses?” I ask. This is Specsavers after all. You guys still sell glasses right? Just give me one of those ones you have out there on the shelf, then I’ll be right.
“It takes 7-10 working days for us to make glasses.”
When can I wear my contacts again?
Well that’s that then.
After some shopping around, I managed to find a place (OPSM) that would be able to get a pair of glasses delivered to me by Wednesday but, until then, I’ll have to sit one foot away from the television if I want to play Dark Souls and, considering the fact that my eyes are sensitive to light, that’s just not a recommended course of action.
For the time being at least, I’m going to have to stop playing Dark Souls II.