I would not recommend or encourage developing an ulcer in your eye. I will also not pretend that an eye ulcer is anything but an excruciatingly painful experience.
Horse fly reactions are not very pleasant either, not to mention inconvenient when your foot impersonates the size of an elephant on steroids and a basic function, such as walking, is virtually impossible.
In fact, the common cold is sounding more appealing than ever. You sneeze, your bedroom resembles an advertising set for Kleenex, and your nose feels a delicate shade of sensitive red. But at least you can walk. And you can see.
I suffered from an allergic reaction to horse fly (again) a little while ago. My foot blew up like a bruised balloon and I had to sit in bed for two days, eating cheese and watching television, until the swelling subsided and walking became bearable.
Looking back at my two day cheese sit in, this seems a far friendlier alternative to an eye ulcer. At least I could watch Come Dine With Me and read Heat magazine. When one has an ulcer in one’s eye, a bright television set and trashy reading material are practically as painful as placing pins in ones eyeballs.
Last week was a very dark week. Literally. One day my right eye was a little sore, the next day it was horrendously sore. Wincing at sunlight, wearing sunglasses to protect my eye, and feeling very sorry for myself, I visited a London eye hospital.
“How long have you been like this?” was the horrified doctor's reaction when she examined my eye and diagnosed the ulcer.
I was horrified to see her horrified reaction. It was only a little sore the previous day. How terribly and painfully your life can change in a matter of 24 hours.
I was prescribed eye drops by the hour, even through the night, for the next two days and two nights, then every hour for three days and every three hours for three nights, then at intervals throughout the day for the next nine days.
“You’re in for a rough five days and nights,” the slightly annoying and smug doctor warned me.
I bought myself a tuna sandwich to cheer myself up, and went home with my shocking shade of red, swollen, half closed, extremely vunerable, sore eye.
At home I sat in my bedroom, in the dark, wearing my shades, and contemplated what to do for the next fourteen days.
Oh when would the pain stop?
I couldn’t use the Internet because it hurt my eye.
I couldn’t watch the television screen because it hurt my eye.
I couldn’t read a book or a magazine because it hurt my eye.
I couldn’t continue with my photography course work because it hurt my eye.
I couldn’t even sleep because my eye hurt. Not to mention having to attend to it with eye drops every hour to relieve the pain for about a second.
Lovely boyfriend then texted me.
I couldn’t read his text because it hurt my eye.
Lovely boyfriend telephoned.
Lovely boyfriend arrived at my flat with chocolate and sympathy.
At last, something which didn’t hurt my eye! A hug and a packet of minstrels.
Lovely boyfriend had to place the drops in my eye, every hour, on the hour. My disastrous attempts meant wet cheeks and soggy pillows, I couldn’t prise my eye open and squeeze drops in at the same time.
Every single hour, for the next 48 hours, my alarm rang, to remind me it was medication time. Like zombies working the night shift, boyfriend and I turned the alarm off, opened eye, injected into eye, went back to sleep, until the next hour, and so forth and so forth.
By the third night it was every three hours. But this was still too much! I began to pretend I hadn’t heard the alarm and I was sound asleep.
Lovely boyfriend did not fall for my pretend sleep. He also ignored my pitiful pleads of, “Please let me sleep! I can’t do it anymore! I just want to be left alone!”
Lovely boyfriend was looking out for my best interests, but my sleep deprived body was not appreciative at the time.
What a trooper hey. He certainly came to my rescue and aided my recovery.
That was last week and I can laugh at the ordeal now. Time is a great healer, and the bucket loads of liquid which entered my eye. I have firmly placed those dark sinister days, from the dark depths of last week, into my murky past.
So I’m back in the office. It's nice to be somewhere other than my dark bedroom. My eye is still a little sensitive but I’ve booked an eye test for tomorrow and I’m hoping the horrible ulcer has vanished. Gone. Departed from my life and this universe. Never to be seen again. Ever. Amen.
I’m also going to splash out on a pair of trendy frames and allow my eyes a break from my contact lenses.
Take my advise, for I am the voice of eye ulcer knowledge - don’t ever get an ulcer in your eye.
And by the way, why didn't the slightly annoying and smug doctor place an eye patch over the offending problem?
Surely that would have slightly helped the situation?
Just an after thought.