What If You Survive the Apocalypse and Only Have One Pair of Contacts?

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My biggest fear goes something like this: The apocalypse or an apocalyptic event happens. There are earthquakes, asteroids, nuclear wars—whatever, it doesn’t really matter. After the flames finally stop raining down and the world has settled into an ashen plain of sorrow I come to a startling realization: My glasses are at home and I’m wearing monthly disposable contact lenses.

I would be at a competative disadvantage should I ever have to enter "survival mode" without the aid of glasses or contacts. Even the smallest and weakest of children who happen to be blessed with normal eyesight would leap above me on the food chain. I would be susceptible to naturally occurring apocalyptic hurdles and booby traps —a comically obvious net placed on the ground could very easily be my downfall.

Assuming my glasses (as well as the home in which they were sitting) were washed away by a river or lava or something equally inconvenient, I would be reliant on the lenses hugging my eyeballs to guide me through the end of the world.

How Long Will My Contacts Last?

If properly cleaned and stored overnight, my contacts remain comfortable for about a month. Given that the apocalypse will probably be pretty dusty, I can't bank on having that much time. In order to prepare for this scenario, I spoke with Gary Heiting, OD, the Senior Editor of AllAboutVision.com. He said that, depending on the person, a pair of monthly contacts can be worn anywhere from one to three months (although three is pushing it). Wearing contacts longer than recommended greatly puts you at risk for serious eye infection.

In fact, infection is the greatest contact lens-related threat I'd face after the apocalypse. Acanthamoeba keratitis, for example, is caused by a one-celled organism that can dig its way into your corneas and eventually eat away at your vision. According to Dr. Heiting, the most likely causes of this kind of ailment are handling lenses with unclean hands or direct exposure to contaminated water.

Cleaning Contacts In The Filthy Apocalypse

I assume clean water will be tough to come by after the apocalypse (especially if I am in some sort of Waterworld-type scenario—surrounded by water but none of it is suitable for washing my hands, the cruel, cruel irony), so Purell would have to do. Dr. Heiting said that, in a pinch, antibacterial hand wash is fine, but you have to be very careful to ensure that all traces of alcohol have completely evaporated before making contact with your eyes. Still, soap and water is always the best bet.

I'll be able to loot a drugstore for saline solution (and snacks and sports drinks), so, for a couple of months, I will have good enough vision to wander the charred Earth and look for roaming bands of survivors whose trust I will undoubtedly have to earn with a series of daring deeds ("That was close..." "You're telling me!" That kind of thing).

What About Fresh, Packaged Lenses?

Even with Purell and fresh saline solution, my contacts won't last forever—soon, it will come time to find replacements. Naturally, I’m going to want to loot either A) an optometrist's office or B) a contact lens manufacturing plant (by this time I will have become very good at looting). Unfortunately, even in sealed packaging and taken directly from the assembly line, these contacts won't last for an eternity.

Contact lenses have expiration dates, and I asked Dr. Heiting how concrete those were. According to a source in the contact lens industry, manufacturers must prove that the lenses are stable up to that date (usually around three years after production). It's not like milk, in that the lenses will necessarily go bad once that time comes, but it's still a risk to wear expired contacts. Dr. Heiting said he can't recommend wearing expired contacts, "except perhaps in cases of dire emergency when the risk of very poor uncorrected vision outweighs the possibility of lens parameter changes or possible contamination."

Well well well, looks like I'm in business. A pair of factory-fresh lenses will last around three years, so I should be okay until civilization is rebuilt. When that time comes, I can visit my optometrist for a long-overdue checkup.

How To Ensure You're Never Up Apocalypse Creek Without A Paddle

Now, there are precautions one can take to ensure that they don't have to worry about their contact lenses during the apocalypse. Dr. Heiting recommends that you consider eyeglasses an "emergency medical device." Keep a pair on you at all times and you'll never have to worry. Still, having glasses isn't a 100% guarantee that the end of the world will be a breeze:

The best bet for a comfortable and crystal-clear apocalypse is LASIK or other types of refractive surgeries. Dr. Heiting says that many firefighters, police officers, and other first responders get these procedures done because they are faced with harrowing situations daily that can be made all the more difficult by cumbersome glasses or finicky contact lenses.

See you after the apocalypse—I'll be the guy dodging booby traps and reading faraway street signs with no trouble.

How Does Alberta, Canada, Stay Rat-Free?

Francisco Martins/iStock via Getty Images
Francisco Martins/iStock via Getty Images

David Moe:

Alberta is the only province in Canada that does not have any rats and is, in fact, the largest inhabited area on the planet that is rat-free. Rats had to come from Eastern Canada, and it’s a long walk, so it was not until the 1950s that they finally reached Alberta. When they did, the Alberta government was ready for them: They instituted a very aggressive rat control program that killed every single rat that crossed the Alberta/Saskatchewan border.

The Agricultural Pests Act of Alberta, 1942 authorized the Minister of Agriculture to designate as a pest any animal that was likely to destroy crops or livestock; every person and municipality had to destroy the designated pests. Where their pest control was not adequate, the provincial government could carry it out and charge the costs to the landowner or municipality.

Rats were designated as pests in 1950. An amendment to the act in 1950 further required that every municipality appoint a pest control inspector. In 1951, conferences on rat control were held in eastern Alberta, and 2000 posters and 1500 pamphlets titled "Rat Control in Alberta" were distributed to grain elevators, railway stations, schools, post offices, and private citizens.

Between June 1952 and July 1953, [more than 140,000 pounds] of arsenic trioxide powder were used to treat 8000 buildings on 2700 farms in an area 12 to 31 miles wide and 186 miles long on the eastern border. Some residents were not informed that arsenic was being used and some, allegedly, were told that the tracking powder was only harmful to rodents. Consequently, some poisoning of livestock, poultry, and pets occurred. Fortunately, Warfarin—the first anticoagulant rodent poison—became available in 1953; Warfarin is much safer than arsenic, and in fact is prescribed to some heart patients as a blood thinner.

The number of rat infestations in the border area increased rapidly from one in 1950 to 573 in 1955. However, after 1959, the numbers of infestations dropped dramatically.

The provincial share of rat control expenses increased to 100 percent in 1975. All premises within the control zone from Montana to Cold Lake are now inspected at least annually. Rat infestations are eliminated by bait, gas, or traps. Buildings are occasionally moved or torn down, and in some cases, rats are dug out with a backhoe or bulldozer. In the early days they also used shotguns, incendiaries, and high explosives to control rats. It was something of a war zone.

Hundreds of suspected infestations are reported each year, but most sightings turn out to be muskrats, pocket gophers, ground squirrels, bushy-tailed wood rats, or mice. However, all suspected infestations are investigated.

A few white rats have been brought in by pet stores, biology teachers, and well-meaning individuals who did not know it was unlawful to have rats in Alberta, even white lab rats or pet rats. White rats can only be kept by zoos, universities, colleges, and recognized research institutions in Alberta. Private citizens may not keep white rats, hooded rats, or any of the strains of domesticated Norway rats. Possession of a pet rat can lead to a fine of up to $5000.

In 2004 someone released 38 rats in Calgary. By the time the rat control officers arrived, most of them were dead. The local residents had formed a posse and killed them with brooms, 2x4s, and shovels. If the authorities had caught the culprit, he could have faced a $190,000 fine (38 x $5000)—assuming his neighbors didn’t get to him with brooms, 2x4s, and shovels first. Albertans don’t want rats.

This post originally appeared on Quora. Click here to view.

Why Do Students Get Summers Off?

Iam Anupong/iStock via Getty Images
Iam Anupong/iStock via Getty Images

It’s commonly believed that school kids started taking summers off in the 19th century so that they’d have time to work on the farm. Nice as that story is, it isn’t true. Summer vacation has little to do with tilling fields and more to do with sweaty, rich city kids playing hooky—and their sweaty, rich parents.

Before the Civil War, farm kids never had summers off. They went to school during the hottest and coldest months and stayed home during the spring and fall, when crops needed to be planted and harvested. Meanwhile, city kids hit the books all year long—summers included. In 1842, Detroit’s academic year lasted 260 days.

But as cities got denser, they got hotter. Endless lanes of brick and concrete transformed urban blocks into kilns, thanks to what was known as the “urban heat island effect.” That’s when America’s swelling middle and upper class families started hightailing it to the cooler countryside. And that caused a problem. School attendance wasn’t mandatory back then, and classrooms were being left half-empty each summer. Something had to give.

Legislators, in one of those if-you-can’t-beat-‘em-join-‘em moments, started arguing that kids should get summers off anyway. It helped that, culturally, leisure time was becoming more important. With the dawn of labor unions and the eight-hour workday, working adults were getting more time to themselves than ever before. Advocates for vacation time also argued (incorrectly) that the brain was a muscle, and like any muscle, it could suffer injuries if overused. From there, they argued that students shouldn’t go to school year-round because it could strain their brains. To top it off, air conditioning was decades away, and city schools during summertime were miserable, half-empty ovens.

So by the turn of the century, urban districts had managed to cut about 60 schooldays from the most sweltering part of the year. Rural schools soon adopted the same pattern so they wouldn’t fall behind. Business folks obviously saw an opportunity here. The summer vacation biz soon ballooned into what is now one of the country’s largest billion-dollar industries.

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