Eye, Eye

by Patsy Collins
^{(creative writers at http://www.morewriting.co.uk)}

Darren couldn’t believe what he was seeing; the woman of his dreams had just walked past him. He rubbed his eyes and looked again. She was still there. He blinked a couple of times. She was walking away from him, but he was sure it was the young woman he’d dreamt about last night.

“What’s up with you?” his colleague, Tim, asked. “Seen a ghost or something?”

“What?” Darren asked then realised he’d walked out into the corridor and was staring, mouth open, after the woman. “Did you see her?”

“Who?”

“The redhead who just went by.”

“Melissa?”

“You know her?”

“Well, not ‘know’ exactly, but I met her on Monday. Oh, I forgot you were away weren’t you? She’s the new occupational health wotsit.”

Darren turned to look at his friend. “Tim, I dreamt about her last night.”

“Dreaming? Really? You don’t look as though you’ve slept for a week.”

“Well, I have,” Darren snapped.

Tim chuckled. “Melissa is the woman of your dreams is she? Well you’d better get yourself sorted out, the way you look at the moment, you’ll give the poor girl nightmares.”

“Thanks, Tim. You’re a great mate you are.”

Darren was well aware he didn’t look like the man of anyone’s dreams.

“Just being honest. What is up with your eyes anyway?” Tim asked as they returned to their office.

“I don’t know. It’s not exactly my eyes, I can see OK, but the eyelids are really sore. I’ve had it before; it flares up from time to time. Usually I find that if I press a warm flannel on them for a few minutes, it eases the irritation, but that hasn’t helped much this time.”

“So what has your doctor said?”

“Nothing. I haven’t been. I hate going, first you’ve got to persuade the receptionist to book you an appointment. You know what they’re like.”

“Yeah, always asking if it’s medically urgent, as though we’d be ringing the doctor to lay our carpets or something.”

“Exactly. Then you have to take time off work and sometimes when you get there, whatever it is has cleared up, or if it hasn’t they say you should have come in sooner!”

Darren shook his head, remembering his last visit to the doctor.

“I know. You can’t win,” Tim agreed. “Hey, I know why don’t you go and see Melissa? She’s got medical training hasn’t she? And it’d be a good way of getting to know her.”

“No way, Tim. You just said I look like the living dead.”

“I didn’t say that exactly, but now you come to mention it …”

Over the next few days, Darren’s eyes didn’t improve. In fact, the more he thought about his problem, the worse they felt. He guessed that rubbing his eyelids wasn’t helping, but they were so sore it was impossible not to.

Whenever he caught sight of Melissa, he’d go into a nearby office, or turn his back to make sure she didn’t see his distinctly unattractive eyes.

At the weekend, he woke up with his eyelids stuck together and after he’d washed away the sticky discharge, he saw he’d developed a sty. He rang his doctor’s surgery on Monday morning.

“Is this medically urgent?” he was asked.

“I don’t know,” Darren said. It seemed urgent to him, but would the doctor see it that way?

“I can make you an appointment for next Wednesday, at eleven.”

“OK, thanks,” Darren said.

He wore dark glasses to work. When he saw the e-mail from Melissa, he was glad he had. It stated that as the new occupational health adviser, she would be talking to each member of staff individually. Darren knew that, he’d had an e-mail last week inviting him to pop in for a chat with her. He hadn’t realised she’d book appointments for those who didn’t arrange their own. His was at one.

“I can’t possibly go,” he said to Tim.

“You’ll have to, mate. Don’t worry; I shouldn’t think anything medical will put her off.”

Darren took off the glasses. His eyelids had developed crusts, the sty was red and angry, small dandruff like flakes decorated his lids and they were inflamed and greasy.

“Yuck!” Tim said.

The phone rang. Darren answered. “Darren White, how can I help?”

“This is Melissa Black; I’m just calling to confirm your appointment for this afternoon.”

“Ah, right.”

“You do know where my office is?”

Darren did. He’d found out so that he could avoid it.

“Good, then I look forward to meeting you.”

“Yes, me too.” He heard her laugh before he hung up.

At one precisely, Darren knocked on her door and was invited in.

“Thank you for coming, I didn’t think you would,” Melissa greeted him.

“Why would you think that?”

“You don’t like me much, do you, Darren?”

“I do!”

“Then why have you been avoiding me?”

It was a good question. Darren knew there was only one way he could convince her it wasn’t because he disliked her. He removed his dark glasses.

“Blepharitis!” she said.

“There’s no need to be like that; I can’t help it.”

She laughed. “Sorry, I wasn’t being rude. I think that you’ve got Blepharitis.”

“Oh.”

Melissa came closer and gazed into his eyes. It was almost like his dream, except now she was medically, not romantically interested. “Are your eyelids sore?”

“Very.”

“Have you had this before?”

“It flares up from time to time, but it’s never been this bad.”

“I’m sure it is Bleparitis, but you should see your doctor to be sure.”

“Is there anything I can do to cure it?”

“Yes and no. It tends to recur, so you probably can’t be sure to get rid of it, but there’s a lot you can do to ease the problem and reduce occurrences. As it’s quite bad now, I expect your doctor will prescribe you some antibiotic cream. That will help.”

“I’ve got an appointment for next week.”

“Good. In the meantime, try pressing a hot flannel on your lids for five minutes every morning and evening.”

“I’ve done that before. You’re right it does help a bit.”

“Another thing you can try is to clean them with some baby shampoo. Mix up a solution and apply it with a cotton bud. Be careful not to get any in your eyes though. You could also try rinsing them with boiled and cooled water; some people say that adding a teaspoon of bicarbonate of soda to the water helps.”

“OK. Anything else?”

“After doing the flannel thing, you could gently massage them by rolling your finger over the eyelid. That can help push some of the mucus out of the glands. Don’t rub though, that’ll make them worse.”

“I know,” Darren agreed.

That night, he tried the techniques Melissa had suggested. He did the same again in the morning. He had to stop himself rubbing his eyes when he got to work and switched on his computer.

There was an e-mail from Melissa asking him how his eyes were and if he’d like to pop in at twelve. As that was lunchtime, he guessed the interest might not be purely professional. He was right.

After gazing again into his eyes, she said, “If you like, I could pop in to your office each day?” She blushed. “Er, just to see how you're getting on.”

Darren’s doctor confirmed the diagnosis Melissa had made the previous week.

“You’ve got Blepharitis. I’ll prescribe some antibiotic cream. That should clear it up for now, but it’s likely to recur. You’ll need to keep your eyelids scrupulously clean all the time to aid treatment. That will also go some way to prevent further outbreaks.”

“I’ve been pressing hot flannels on my lids and cleaning them with baby shampoo solution.”

“That’s good. Make sure you keep the flannel in place for several minutes. Re-warm it with more hot water if you need to. The baby shampoo is fine. There are also special eyelid scrubs available at the chemist, you might like to try them. One of my patients uses the preserved water that contact lens wearers use to clean their eyes and says that helps. It’s really a question of trying things to see what works best for you.”

“OK, I will. I’ve heard bicarbonate of soda is worth a try?”

“Yes, a teaspoonful in a cup of boiled, then cooled water applied with cotton wool or a cotton bud, is recommended. The best routine seems to be soaking with a flannel, then a gentle massaging of the eyelids, like this.”

The doctor demonstrated rolling his first finger across the eyelid.
“Then clean in one of the ways we’ve discussed. After that, you should apply a little of the antibiotic cream on the edge of your eyelid. Continue with the cream until the inflammation and soreness are completely gone. After that continue the cleaning routine twice a day.”

“Thanks. I will.”

“Do you suffer with dry eyes at all?”

Darren shook his head. “No, I haven’t noticed that.”

“That often does occur with Blepharitis, but not always.”

“What happens if I get that?”

“Your eyes would feel gritty and uncomfortable. There are drops available if they’re needed.”

Darren’s eyelids gradually improved and, as promised, Melissa popped in almost every lunchtime to check on his progress and chat to him and Tim.

One day, when Tim was absent, she said, “You have probably guessed that my interest isn’t entirely professional?”

Darren blushed. “Well, I did wonder.”

“The thing is, I rather like your friend Tim.”

“Oh, I see.”

“I hope this isn’t too cheeky, but as we’re now such good friends, I wondered if you and Tim would make up a foursome with me and Tanya.”

“Tanya?”

“Blonde girl in accounts?”

“Oh, yes. I know who you mean. OK, I’ll ask Tim and see what he says.”

That night, Darren had a lovely dream about Tanya from accounts gazing lovingly into his eyes.