Last week I got some great news. News that had me whistling happy tunes, snapping my fingers and tapping my toes. I had a stye in my eye — left to be exact.
That’s it.
That is my happy news.
I went to the urgent care center in Oxford, sat down on the table-bed thing with the white, crinkly rolled paper. Talked to the nurse for a minute or two, then the doctor entered the room. He kept his distance — about four feet between your hero (that would be me) and him and said, ‘Yep. You got an eye stye. Put a warm compress on it a couple of times a day and I’ll write you a prescription.?
He turned and vanished out the door.
Hot damn! I’m feeling all warm and fuzzy all over again just reliving the moment. I got a stye in my eye and I am thankful. Thankful I had an infection of the hair follicle of an eyelash in my left eye. I am happy I had a sore similar to a boil or a pimple that formed on the inside of my eyelid. I was happy to know by doing the warm, moist compress thing I would speed up the process of bringing said stye to a head so pus could go on my eye once the thing popped. All this information made me happy.
Before the doctor issued his eye stye proclamation I was under the firm belief I had that most dreaded of ocular sicknesses, PINK-EYE.
Oh gosh, I thought I had pink-eye. I have never had pink-eye (or an eye stye for that matter). I didn’t know how it felt to have pink-eye and only knew it looks yucky. It’s unpleasant and I thought I had it because a fellow female worker (who shall remain anonymous to protect her social standing in the community) said she actually had pink-eye. I wouldn’t know, once the word was out I couldn’t look at her for fear of being grossed out by seeing pink, pus-y eyes.
Oh man, I was bumming. The vision from my left eye was foggy and blurry. My left eye was swelling, it was itchy and the thing looked like it was starting to turn pink. I was positive it was pink-eye. Dang it!
If I had pink-eye, I reckoned, then Jennie and the boys would get pink-eye. I followed the slippery slope down and found out that dogs too can get pink-eye. And, wouldn’t you know it, if I passed pink-eye on to the kids and Jennie and the dogs, then they would in turn pass it on to our cat, who would then pass it on to the two guinea pigs. A whole house of icky pink eyes.
Does anybody remember the episode of the Dick VanDyke Show, where he has a nightmare of walnut eating turning his friends and family into aliens with eyes in the backs of their heads? I was certain a similar nightmare would strike our home, except all eyes would be gooey pink.
Oh, the horror!
I don’t know why, but there is a certain negative stigma surrounding those befallen with pink eye. It is not an new phenomenon. As a matter of fact, the shunning of pink-eyed people is old. I am almost positive there are parables about people with pink-eye in Jesus? time being stoned before He had the chance to touch and cure them.
‘Look, he has pink eyes! Stone him!? Stone.
‘Ouch.?
‘Stay away!? Stone.
‘Ouch!?
‘Unclean!? Stone.
‘Ouch!?
‘Don’t look at us!? Stone.
‘Ouch.?
Then, I believe a sandaled Jesus stepped forward and said, ‘Brothers and sisters with eyes of pink let me heal your pain.?
* * *
I got on-line and Googled ‘eye stye? and ‘pink eye? to find out more about them, to be more understanding and wiser in the ways of eyes. I recommend all pious and caring people do this because knowledge is power. Don’t however type in ‘eye sti? because STI in the health world stands for Sexually Transmitted Infections and you’ll learn of more yucky stuff than pink-eye.
Comments for the blue-(not pink)-eyed Mr. Rush can be e-mailed to: dontrushmedon@charter.net

Hey, it’s Labor Day weekend and I wanna? take a break . . . so here is an oldie but a goodie from 2004. Read, smile and I hope, enjoy. — DPR
* * *
Sept. 1, 2004 — Last week I got some great news. News that had me whistling happy tunes, snapping my fingers and tapping my toes. I had a stye in my eye — left to be exact.
That’s it.
That is my happy news.
I went to the urgent care center in Oxford, sat down on the table-bed thing with the white, crinkly rolled paper. Talked to the nurse for a minute or two, then the doctor entered the room. He kept his distance — about four feet between your hero (that would be me) and him and said, ‘Yep. You got an eye stye. Put a warm compress on it a couple of times a day and I’ll write you a prescription.?
He turned and vanished out the door.
Hot damn! I’m feeling all warm and fuzzy all over again just reliving the moment. I got a stye in my eye and I am thankful. Thankful I had an infection of the hair follicle of an eyelash in my left eye. I am happy I had a sore similar to a boil or a pimple that formed on the inside of my eyelid. I was happy to know by doing the warm, moist compress thing I would speed up the process of bringing said stye to a head so pus could go on my eye once the thing popped. All this information made me happy.
Before the doctor issued his eye stye proclamation I was under the firm belief I had that most dreaded of ocular sicknesses, PINK EYE.
Oh gosh, I thought I had pink eye. I have never had pink-eye (or an eye stye for that matter). I didn’t know how it felt to have pink eye and only knew it looks yucky. It’s unpleasant and I thought I had it because a fellow female worker (who shall remain anonymous to protect her social standing in the community) said she actually had pink eye. I wouldn’t know, once the word was out I couldn’t look at her for fear of being grossed out by seeing pink, pus-y eyes.
Oh man, I was bumming. The vision from my left eye was foggy and blurry. My left eye was swelling, it was itchy and the thing looked like it was starting to turn pink. I was positive it was pink eye. Dang it!
If I had pink eye, I reckoned, then my family would get pink eye. I followed the slippery slope down and found out that dogs, too, can get pink eye. And, wouldn’t you know it, if I passed pink eye on to the kids and wife and the dogs, then they would in turn pass it on to our cat, who would then pass it on to the two guinea pigs. A whole house of icky pink eyes.
Does anybody remember the episode of the Dick VanDyke Show, where he has a nightmare of walnut eating turning his friends and family into aliens with eyes in the backs of their heads? I was certain a similar nightmare would strike our home, except all eyes would be gooey pink.
Oh, the horror!
I don’t know why, but there is a certain negative stigma surrounding those befallen with pink eye. It is not an new phenomenon. As a matter of fact, the shunning of pink eyed people is old. I am almost positive there are parables about people with pink eye in Jesus? time being stoned before He had the chance to touch and cure them.
‘Look, he has pink eyes! Stone him!? Stone.
‘Ouch.?
‘Stay away!? Stone.
‘Ouch!?
‘Unclean!? Stone.
‘Ouch!?
‘Don’t look at us!? Stone.
‘Ouch.?
Then, I believe a sandaled Jesus stepped forward and said, ‘Brothers and sisters with eyes of pink let me heal your pain.?
* * *
I got online and Googled ‘eye stye? and ‘pink eye? to find out more about them, to be more understanding and wiser in the ways of eyes. I recommend all pious and caring people do this because knowledge is power. Don’t however type in ‘eye sti? because STI in the health world stands for Sexually Transmitted Infections and you’ll learn of more yucky stuff than pink eye.
Don’s Note: Sept. 9, 2015 — I have not gotten another stye, nor have I got Pink Eye. Knock on wood! Share your comments. Follow me on the Twitter, twitter.com/DontRushMeDon