Blinded by the light...

We all know that there is a price to pay for having a good time.  Not sufficient with inflicting a headache like no other and giving me the means to try and break the world land speed record, my body threw me yet another curve ball on Sunday morning.

As you all know, I had got up ever so early on Sunday and written my blog, and then, on the advice of Mrs W, had gone back to bed. All well and good so far.  I then slept till around 11.00 (outrageous, I know) when the husband placed a lovely cup of tea next to the bed.  As I drank it, I slipped the old specs on to see whether any photos had materialised from the Halloween party the night before. 

Oddly, I couldn't see a thing out of my left eye, so I slipped the glasses off, gave them a professional clean with the corner of the duvet cover, and one of those 'Huh!' breaths and popped them back on.  Still nothing.

As the day went on, the eye eventually closed up, and I sat on the sofa feeling very sorry for myself with a folded piece of kitchen paper pressed up against the eye to soak up the incessant weeping.  The husband (ever the caring, sympathetic one) said around 4.00, 'I'm fed up of this, come on, I'll take you to A&E'.

It was at the parking ticket meter in the hospital car park when my visual limitations became apparent.  He needed change, and having rummaged in my bag, I passed over some coins and put them in his upturned palm.  Or not, as it would appear, as the money just fell straight onto the floor.  It would appear that one eye doesn't do the job of two.  When the huffing and puffing were done (there was a long queue behind us unfortunately) we walked into the hospital reception, and the husband planted me firmly in front of the desk.

'What seems to be the problem?' asked the receptionist with a smile.  Pointing at the square of tissue firmly clamped to my eye.  'It's my eye', I said unnecessarily. So she took all my details, and told me to take a seat (this had to be to the left of the husband as I couldn't see him otherwise.

A few minutes passed (I joke you not), and I was called into triage.  The nurse looked like he was up for a joke, so when he said to me, 'I was going to ask you what the problem was, but I don't think that's really necessary', I was tempted to say that it was my leg which had problems.  But wasting time with the NHS is just not OK, so I told him all about the face paint and the fact that I couldn't see out of my left eye.  

'Shall we see how bad it is?' he asked, steering me towards one of those boards of letters of diminishing sizes which the optician is particularly fond of.  I was impressively good on the right eye, but when it came to the left, I asked him whether he'd moved the board as I couldn't see it at all.  'Perhaps you might be better with your glasses on?' he suggested.  Now I did as I was told, remembering as I slipped them on, that my glasses are just over the counter reading ones.  

'Is that any better?' he asked, flicking the paddle between the two eyes.  Well now I couldn't see anything out of either eye, and I thought it best to explain to him that because they were reading gasses, that result would probably be expected.  How he laughed....I told you he had a sense of humour.

It was then off to see the eye surgeon.  After much probing, he gave me the diagnosis.  The face paint (this would be the one which clearly states that it's not to be used around the eyes) had stripped the cells from the front of my eye ball, hence the weeping and fogginess.  He dripped various potions into my eye, and then bandaged a soft pad over it to protect it.

This completely made the husband's day, and any anger at having his Sunday afternoon ruined was swept away by the vision of his lovely wife looking like she'd stuck her hand up too quickly at a First Aid Course when volunteers were needed.

I think I'm on the mend now, except for the dilated pupil which makes me look like a drug addict, and causes me to reach for my sunglasses and cry 'The light!  The light!'  every time I go outside.

 Like I said, there is always a price to pay....


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