At the end of any relationship there are tears. Whether you are sad for the loss, angry for the time spent unhappy, or just plain tired and overwhelmed. I remember my third year of optometry school I broke up with a boy. As many small optometry schools would have it, there were about 60 students in it so it was near impossible to get over it without running into him. Luckily it was during finals and I hit the books hard and the breakup ended in all A's. So, I guess it was for the best. When it first happened I remember the Sunday afternoon I spent cooped up in my apartment. I sat on our couch (haha by couch I mean Futon- remember those poor days?) Anyways, I spent hours sitting in an oversized Tshirt, boxer shorts, and a giant bag of potato chips crying hysterically. I consider that my lowest point and when anything goes bad, I think about that day, give myself a minute (one minute only) to cry and then laugh about how ridiculous I was.
Well, like most break ups, they never break even. Thanks, The Script - you definitely summed it up. I listened to the song, and sang along naturally, on my way to work. The morning was fairly uneventful. After a lunch, I came back, donned my white coat and walked in to see my first patient of the afternoon. A young girl, the acuity girls couldn’t even get a measurement. Her right eye was swollen shut and tears were trickling slowly and she sat uncomfortably in my chair.
I cut the bullshit and threw her straight into the slit lamp. “You are already in pain, Im sure the light bothers you like no other, and you are most likely going to want to punch me in the face after this… but give me a few minutes, let me pry open this eye and see what is going on” After much struggle y mucho lagrimas, a 2.5mm epithelial defect in the inf/central portion of her cornea were discovered. More importantly I finally got out of her that a year prior her daughter, a baby at the time, scratched the front of her eye resulting in the original corneal abrasion.
The tears streamed down her face without a whimper as if there was a faucet back there that wasn’t quite shut tightly. After the first few days after breaking up, it’s just easiest to be sad. You think about all the good times and how they aren’t ever going to happen again. For a brief moment your life might be over. By over, not as sweet and silent as say death… but more horribly than that you picture your life growing old, alone, with pungent aroma of feline urine surrounding your entire home. There will be floral muumuus. In later life, maybe even an oxygen tank and a large brimmed hat.
Once that lovely picture has finally left your mind, there comes the email. ‘How are you? How was the move?’ I debated for a while whether I answer at all. But, my mother above all other things always stressed manners. Despite how rude I would most generally like to be in life, I usually don a fake smile and suck it up. After a round of prophylactic antibiotics, the epithelium healed over, although it would never be the same. I put her on artificial tears during the day and lacrilube at night.
Weeks pass and I run into his old roommate. We had a nice chat and I was generally excited to see him. I had met a lot of people through him. A lot of people Id have liked to have been friends with. Within an hour came the instant messaging. She forgot the ointment that night. The next morning after hours of blissful sleep, her eyes a little dry in the summer heat, that right eyelid opened with the sunlight creeping through her window and in an instant ripped whatever epithelium attempted to cover that now very old abrasion. Tears again.
I preluded this blog to say I know nothing of boys. And I don’t. But one thing I do know is they lay in wait until you’ve forgotten their existence and then they chime in and open up old wounds. My ipod on and Paulson’s playing (old school and jersey pride here) To quote a song since I get all my relationship advice from songs, heaven forbid I listen to Dr Phil… ‘relationships never end they’re just abandoned.’ I know nothing of men and nothing of how to keep them happy but what I do know in life is that sometimes things work and sometimes they don’t. And generally that’s just fine- it goes on. I just wish sometimes you could walk away completely and let that epithelium heal for good. Until then, artificial tears, a few glasses of wine, and hopefully new men might just be the best medicine.
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