‘I’m sorry, but that will teach you for getting under my damn feet,’ I cried. ‘Like it’s not dangerous enough when I can actually see.’
She growled and I heard her padding across the carpet, then the gentle rhythmic thumping of her taking one step at a time to head down to the kitchen. I decided that trying to navigate the house while I was blind wasn’t a great move, so I dropped onto all fours and crawled. I was thankful I had a cat who slept in my bed, as it meant I kept my door ajar overnight. Keeping the bathroom wall and door against my left-hand side so I wouldn’t end up rolling down the stairs, I crawled across the landing.
‘I’m never going to make it through this alive,’ I grunted when I bashed my head on the office door. Seriously, how did blind swimmers not do that when they got to the other end of the pool? I eased myself up, located the handle, and made a wobbly and tentative beeline for the desk, walking straight into the corner of it and swearing again. I knocked over my pen pots, the noise making me jump. It was like losing my sight had heightened all of my other senses. I was like Daredevil! He didn’t need his sight to do anything, but I wasn’t sure my skills extended to fighting crime in a tight red leather suit, especially not when I was carrying a few extra pounds in weight. Plus, leather was so in and out of trend. No one wanted to be an untrendy blind superhero.
‘Get back on point, Charlie, now’s not the time for your vivid imagination,’ I warned myself as I patted around the desk for the landline handset. ‘Ha, got you.’
I felt my way around the buttons, got a dial tone, and then pressed one for Abbie’s number. It was rare for her to work on a Saturday, whereas Georgie was usually busy with her doggie clients, especially owners who couldn’t make appointments for them mid-week.
‘Hello?’ Abbie mumbled, her tone sleepy.
‘Abbie, please come, something awful has happened. I can’t see.’
‘Charlie? You can’t see what?’
‘Anything. Anything at all! I thought I’d gone blind, but I realised my eyes were shut.’
‘Well, opening them would be a good start,’ she yawned.
‘Oh, of course, silly me. Go back to sleep, crisis averted. How stupid of me not to try opening my eyes when I woke up, the way I’ve done every day for the last thirty-one years of my life,’ I almost screeched, my voice rising as I got more frustrated.
‘You’re serious? You really can’t see anything?’
‘No. I mean yes, I’m serious, and no, I can’t see. It’s like my eyelids have been superglued shut. I’m scared, Abbie. Please come.’
‘Ok, stay where you are. With your track record, adding blindness is asking for trouble,’ she said, her voice quickly changing to her efficient accountant’s tone. ‘I’ll throw on some clothes and come and let myself in. Where are you?’
‘My office,’ I sniffed, feeling the need to start crying, but worrying where the tears would go if they couldn’t leak out. The last thing I needed was my eyelids bulging out with a lake of salty tears unable to escape.
‘Ok, sit straight down on the floor and don’t move a muscle, understood?’
‘Yes,’ I whimpered, then did as I was told.
‘I’m going to hang up and I’ll be with you shortly. If I can’t see what’s wrong, sorry, poor choice of words in the circumstances, I’ll drive you to the hospital, ok?’
‘Ok. Hurry, Abbie, I’m seriously scared.’
She ended the call. I put the phone in my lap, then reached up to feel my eyelids and gasped. They didn’t feel normal, they were hot and puffed up really badly, and so damn itchy. I curled my fingers into my palms to resist the temptation to rub or scratch, not wanting to make matters worse. It wasn’t long before I heard the front door open and close and Abbie running up the stairs.
‘Oh my God,’ she exclaimed. ‘Are you allergic to shellfish? Your eyes are so swollen, no wonder you can’t see. I bet it was those prawns you had last night. You’re having an anaphylactic reaction.’
‘The next morning? With my breathing not impaired? I don’t think so. How bad are they?’
‘Well, you can’t open them, so even without the benefit of seeing them with my own eyes, I’ll go out on a limb and say they’re not looking pretty. Do you have any ice packs in your freezer? Putting something cold on them should help.’
‘No, but there’s some of those pouches of ready mixed cocktails.’
‘Oh, which ones?’
‘Lemon vodka sorbet.’
‘Oh, they’re so nice, but I’m not sure alcohol is a great move, Charlie. What if you need urgent medical attention and drugs?’
‘I wasn’t suggesting drinking them, Abbie. Though, if I have to go to hospital and face Dr. Fitton looking like this,’ I gesticulated in the vicinity of my face, ‘I might need to drink them to give me courage.’
‘Oh right, let me go and get them and I’ll put some teaspoons in the fridge as well. They always help when I have puffy eyes after crying.’
She helped me back to bed and arranged the pillows so that I could lie with my head slightly propped up, then dashed off. She returned soon after and told me that she’d got the cocktail packs and had wrapped them in tea towels. She carefully placed them over my eyes.
‘Thank you,’ I whispered, enjoying the cooling sensation. ‘Sorry to drag you out of bed.’
‘Don’t worry about it. That’s the benefit of being good friends with your neighbours, we all look out for each other. I’d say you look like you’ve had a tearful night, and knowing I looked like that after I ran from Miller, I think it’s going to take a few hours for the swelling to go down enough for you to see anything. I’ll go and do you some toast and bring you some water, then it might be best for you to have a sleep and we’ll see how they look later before deciding if you need to go to hospital, ok?’
‘Ok,’ I agreed with a heavy sigh.
‘Sweet mother of … owww … son of a … shit,’ I hissed as I sat on the toilet in my en-suite. Like it wasn’t bad enough I was partially sighted, having a pee felt like someone was pouring acid on my lady parts.
‘Are you ok?’ called Abbie from outside the en-suite door. She’d ended up sitting in bed with me, distracting me from my predicament by making me laugh as she filled me in on how she planned to woo Miller next weekend in New York.
‘No. My damn jeans have chafed me.’
‘Oh, thigh rash? Nasty.’
‘Not there, there. You know, down below.’
‘I’ve never heard of anyone getting beaver rash from jeans,’ she laughed.
‘Honestly, I swear it feels like someone has taken a sander to my privates. I need to pee so badly, but it hurts too much.’
‘Maybe your knicker elastic cut you,’ she suggested. ‘Take a look.’
‘How flexible do you think I am?’
‘With a mirror,’ she tutted.
‘I’m not sure I could see anything even with a mirror, not with these squinty eyes.’
‘Well, don’t ask me. Muff inspections aren’t in the “things girlfriends do for each other” handbook.’
‘What do I do then?’ I huffed. ‘I don’t know what’s wrong and I’m too scared to pee, it kills.’
‘I’ll go and run a bath.’
‘Please, feel free to relax in my Zen-like spa bathroom while I die all alone in agony on the toilet.’
‘Not for me. Maybe if you sit in it, the water will neutralise the acidity a bit.’
‘Oh my God, you want me to pee in the bath while I’m sitting in it?’ I shuddered at the grossness of it.
‘Well, you can always stay in there for the rest of the day, letting out a drop at a time and then moaning about it for an hour before trying again.’
‘God damn it, sometimes my life sucks!’ I shouted in frustration. ‘Run the damn bath, but this is like Fight Club. The first rule of me peeing in the bath is no one talks about me peeing in the bath. Got it?’
‘Got it,’ she called with a giggle.
‘Charlie Faulkner
?’
I sighed with relief as I turned to see a female nurse holding a clipboard. ‘Oh, thank God, it’s not him.’
‘Do you want me to come in with you? If you don’t, that’s fine, I’ll wait here.’
‘I’d rather you come, just stay at the head-end, ok?’ I suggested.
‘You have no worries on that front,’ she confirmed with a vigorous nod.
I stood up, and Abbie grabbed my arm to guide me. The idea of coming to A&E with my eyes still hideously puffed and a vagina that looked like it had caught the worst ever case of measles and chickenpox combined hadn’t exactly thrilled me. It was going to be bad enough to have anyone looking down there, let alone Dr. Fitton. We followed the nurse into one of the side rooms, me bouncing off the doorframe since I’d put on my sunglasses to try and hide my eyes.
‘I’ll leave you alone for a moment. Please undress from the waist down, lie on the bed with your ankles together, legs bent, and let your knees flop apart, then cover yourself with the blanket. I’ll be back shortly and we’ll take a look, shall we?’
‘Great,’ I replied, feeling my cheeks flush at the mortification of having to lie down with my legs akimbo so a stranger could ogle my mangled lady parts. I heard the door close.
‘We won’t take a look, I’m honouring the head-end deal,’ Abbie said. ‘I’ll help get you settled on the bed if you keep your knickers on, then I can cover you and you can shuffle your knickers off yourself.’
‘Thanks, Abbie, sorry to ruin your Saturday.’
‘It’s ok, it wasn’t like I had anything planned. Witnessing your embarrassment is far more entertaining than doing some accounts.’
Five minutes later, feeling like I was about to give birth in this position, I heard the door open.
‘Right, let’s take a look,’ the nurse said. I shut my eyes and felt myself automatically clench as she lifted the blanket. The cool air was actually quite nice, as my beaver had never been so hot. ‘Oh. That looks sore.’
‘Sore is an understatement. What’s wrong?’ I asked, as Abbie gently took my hand and squeezed it.
‘To be honest, I’m not sure. Have you had sex recently?’
‘I wish,’ I muttered.
‘Sorry, what was that?’ she asked.
‘No, no sex recently.’
‘Well, on first glance I’d have said it was something like herpes.’
‘What?’ I shrieked, bolting up. ‘There’s no way it can be herpes.’
‘Well, I’m really not sure,’ she said as she snapped on some gloves. ‘I need to look a bit closer, if you don’t mind.’
‘Oh my God,’ I groaned as her head dipped down again. I flopped back on the bed and shook my head.
‘I didn’t think you’d had sex for a while?’ Abbie asked.
‘I haven’t, and I’ve never had herpes, she’s made a mistake.’ I grimaced as the nurse examined me more closely, then sighed and covered me up again.
‘I need to bring a colleague in for a second opinion,’ she said, as she removed her gloves and placed them in the medical waste bin. ‘Just try and relax and I’ll be back as soon as I can, ok?’ She didn’t wait for my reply before disappearing and closing the door.
‘You’re sure you didn’t use any orgasm enhancements last night?’ Abbie asked again. ‘It could be an allergic reaction.’
‘Well, I’m confident it’s an allergic reaction, I just don’t know what to. And yes, I’m sure, I’ve never even tried any cream.’
‘Well, don’t make a mistake and use eucalyptus rub by mistake,’ she chuckled.
‘Oh my God, what on earth possessed you to put that down there? It stings like hell if you accidentally put some on a raw nose when you have a cold.’ I burst out laughing when she filled me in on the battle of wills she’d had with her arch nemesis Fi-Fi, and was laughing so hard I didn’t hear anyone come in.
‘Good afternoon. Nurse Walters here has asked for a second opinion. I’m Dr. Fitton, I’m going to need to take a look at your genitals if that’s ok, Miss Faulkner.’
My laughter died in an instant and I heard Abbie suck in a gasp as she realised who was standing in front of us.
‘Now, I understand there’s some blistering. Can you tell me when the symptoms first occurred?’ his deep and sexy voice asked, as I cringed and hoped that my sunglasses would mean that he wouldn’t recognise me. Hell, with his track record, even without them he probably wouldn’t recognise me, but I was still mortified.
‘Ermmm, possibly last night, around eight o’clock as I was having dinner with my friends.’
‘Any history of food allergies?’ he asked as he pulled some gloves from the dispenser on the wall.
‘No,’ I replied, taking advantage of the fact that he couldn’t see my eyes to check him out.
‘And when did you last have unprotected sex?’ His question made me die a little on the inside.
‘Trust me, it’s not a sexually transmitted disease,’ I said firmly.
‘I think it’s best you let me make a diagnosis. How long?’
‘It’s been a while,’ I squeaked, my cheeks heating up.
‘Can you define a while?’
‘Two years,’ I mumbled quietly.
‘I’m sorry?’
‘Yes, me too,’ I huffed. He had no idea just how sorry I was about it.
‘You too, what?’
‘I’m sorry, too.’
‘I think we’re at cross-purposes here. I didn’t catch how long it had been since you last had sex.’
‘Oh right, sorry. I thought you were sympathising, because … you know, it’s worthy of it.’
‘So how long exactly?’ he repeated, turning his back as he fiddled in a drawer and extracted something.
‘Two years,’ I squeaked, beyond embarrassed. I just wanted to be magically teleported out of there.
‘Ok, do I have your approval to take a look?’ he asked, turning around.
‘Oh God,’ I grumbled. He was strapping a head torch on. If he found out it was me lying here, it would be bad enough that he’d have seen my vagina before he’d even bought me a drink, but that would never happen now as he’d think either I was so undesirable that no one wanted sex with me or I was frigid.
‘Is that a yes?’
‘Yes,’ I hissed reluctantly, my toes curling up tightly with the shame. My love interest was about to go spelunking around my own personal cave. And we hadn’t even been on a first date. ‘Someone shoot me now,’ I whispered to Abbie as the bright torch was turned on and he moved closer to the car crash that was my privates.
‘Now that’s what I call diving in head first,’ she giggled, squeezing my hand tightly.
‘Hmmm,’ he murmured. Considering I’d spent all day wanting nothing more than to be able to open my eyes, I couldn’t squeeze them shut tightly enough. It wasn’t exactly how I’d imagined the first time I felt his breath down there to be. And what was with the “hmmm” every damn time he examined me. ‘Well, I’ll need to do a swab for formal confirmation, but it’s not herpes,’ he stated confidently.
‘No shit, Sherlock,’ I muttered. I didn’t need a potholer with a fancy medical degree to tell me that.
‘And these blisters are unusually symmetrical,’ he advised, making me jump as he ran his gloved fingertip over them. I banged my head on the thin pillow on the bed a few times out of sheer sexual frustration and mortification. ‘Do you have any history of allergic dermatitis?’
‘Not that I’m aware of.’
‘No other incidences of blistering, itching, or swelling anywhere on the body?’ he asked.
‘Your eyes, Charlie,’ Abbie exclaimed, making me suck in a breath as she revealed my name.
‘I was going to examine those next. I’ll just change gloves, if you can take off your sunglasses for me.’
‘They’re fine, honestly. If you can just give me some cream for whatever’s going on south-of-the-border, that would be great.’
‘Well, I suspect that the two flare
-ups might be related, so I’ll have to insist on examining your eyes to make a diagnosis, please,’ he said in that oh-so-sexy dominant tone. Or at least it would be if we were anywhere but here. I let out a heavy sigh as I heard the waste bin clang, then him washing his hands and grabbing another pair of gloves. I gritted my teeth as Abbie gently removed my glasses, since I seemed unable, or unwilling, to do it myself.
He moved closer and asked me to close my eyes and shone a bright light over them, before asking me to open them again. He showed no sign of recognising me, yet again. I wasn’t sure if I was insulted or relieved.
‘Have you come into contact with any metal in either area in the last twenty-four hours?’ he asked.
‘Not that I can think of …’ I mused. ‘Oh, actually yes, I use metal eyelash curlers, why?’
‘And how about in the vaginal area?’
‘No! What would I use eyelash curlers for down there?’ The mind boggled. I was surprised to hear Dr. Fitton laugh at the same time as Abbie and the nurse.
‘I didn’t mean eyelash curlers. I meant any possibility of any metal making contact. What were you wearing yesterday?’
‘A body.’
‘A what?’ he asked, and this time the nurse and Abbie laughed.
‘It’s like a swimsuit with arms, but far sexier than it sounds. Oh my God, that’s it. It has metal poppers on, so you can part them to take a pee, because… well, you know… women can’t just flop it out and do it standing up through a hole in their knickers.’
‘Quite,’ he chuckled, choosing the most inappropriate time to develop a sense of humour with me. ‘Well, it appears that you’ve suddenly developed contact dermatitis. You have an allergy to something in the metal, most likely nickel. Any time it comes in contact with your skin, you’ll develop an itchy blistering rash, which is what has happened here.’
The Best Medicine Page 8