There comes a time when the heaping of calamities brings on uncontrollable nervous laughter- when, after a final blow from fate, we decide to treat it all as a joke.
- An excerpt from "The Diving Bell and The Butterfly" by Jean-Domonique Bauby
I have to apply petroleum jelly to my right eyeball three times a day. Yes, it's as sticky and disgusting as it sounds.
It's part of the medication that the doctor prescribed me, to counter the strange dry patch in my lower eyeball that developed in the last month.
At least it's not an infection and doesn't require surgery. My eye had been stinging for weeks, and I'd gone off contacts, but my condition persisted so I had to see a specialist to make sure.
"Do you often sleep on one side?" the eye doctor asked rather cryptically.
"Eh?" came my eloquent response. "...I don't know cos I toss and turn a lot in my sleep."
She explained that she suspected that my lower right eyelid doesn't close fully when I sleep, and having an aircon blow at it all night can cause this. But I wouldn't know because I've never watched me sleep.
Two hours of very uncomfortable eye tests later and $130 poorer, I'm hoping my eye will learn to lubricate itself again.