Blue Lenses
D. du Maurier
This was the day for the bandages' to be removed and the blue lenses fitted'. Marda West put her hand up to her eyes and felt the bandage. The days had passed into weeks since her operation, and she had lain there suffering no physical discomfort, but only the darkness, a feeling that the world and the life around was passing her by. As for the operation itself, it had been successful.
"You will see," the surgeon' told her, "more clearly than ever before."
But always during these days of waiting, she had the fear that everybody at the hospital was being too kind. Therefore, when at last it happened, when at his evening visit the surgeon said, "Your lenses will be fitted tomorrow," surprise was greater than joy. She could not say anything, and he had lef t the room before she could thank him. "You won't know you've got them, Mrs West" – the day-nurse assured her, leaving.
Such a calm, comfortable voice, and the way she held the glass to the patient's lips. These things gave confidence that she could not lie.
"Tomorrow I shall see you", said Marda West, and the nurse, with the cheerful laugh answered, "Yes, I'll give you your first shock."
"Aren't you feeling excited?" This was the low, soft voice of her night-nurse, who, more than the rest of them, understood what she had endured4. Nurse Brand was a person of sunlight, of bearing in fresh flowers, of admitting visitors.
Meals, too, even the dullest of lunches were made to appear delicacies through her method of introduction.
The night brought consolation and Nurse Ansel. She did not expect courage. It was she who had smoothed the pillows and held the glass to the lips. At night the patient had only to touch the bell, and in a moment Nurse Ansel was by the bed. "Can't sleep? I know, it's bad for you. I'll give you just two and a half grains, and the night won't seem so long".
All she did was faultless. She never annoyed. And when she went off duty, at five minutes to eight in the morning, she would whisper, "Until this evening."
It was with a special secret sympathy that Nurse Ansel would announce the evening visitor. "Here is someone you want to see, a little earlier than usual," the tone suggesting that Jim was not the husband of ten years but a troubadour, a lover, someone whose bouquet of flowers had been plucked in an enchanted garden and now brought to a balcony. Then shyly, the voice would murmur, "Good evening, Mr. West. Mrs. West is waiting foryou." She would hear the gentle closing of the door, the tip-toeing out with the flowers and the almost soundless return, the scent of the flowers filling the room.
It must have been during the fifth week that Marda West had suggested, first to Nurse Ansel and then to her husband, that perhaps when she returned home the night-nurse might go with them for the first week. Just a week. Just so that Marda West could settle to home again.
"Aren't you feeling excited?", asked Nurse Ansel.
"In a way", said Marda West. "It's like being born again. I've forgotten how the world looks."
"Such a wonderful world," murmured Nurse Ansel, "and you've been patient for so long."
"It's strange," said Marda West, "tomorrow you won't be a voice to me any more. You'll be a person."
"Aren't I a person now?"
"Yes, of course, but it will be different."
"Sleep, then. Tomorrow will come too soon. Good night, Mrs West. Ring if you want me."
"Thank you. Good night."
"Well, we can't complain of the weather!" Now it was the day itself, and Nurse Brand coming in like the first breeze of morning.
"All ready for the great event?" she asked.
Then the surgeon removed the bandages and did something to her eyelids.
"Now, don't be disappointed," he said. "You won't know any difference for about half an hour. Then it will gradually clear. I want you to lie quietly during that time."
The dark lenses, fitted inside her lids, were temporary' for the first few days. Then they would be removed and others fitted.
"How much shall I see?" she asked at last.
"Everything. But not immediately in colour. Just like wearing sunglasses on a bright day. Rather pleasant."
His cheerful laugh gave confidence, and when he and Nurse Brand had left the room she lay back again, waiting for the fog to clear.
Little by little the mist dissolved.
All was in focus now. Flowers, the wash-basin, the glass with the thermometer in it, her dressing-gown. Wonder and relief were so great that they excluded thought.
"They weren't lying to me," she thought. "It's happened, It's true."
Colour was not important. To see, to feel. It was indeed rebirth, the discovery of a world long lost to her.
She heard Nurse Brand's voice outside, and turned her head to watch the opening door.
"Well... are we happy once more?"
Smiling, she saw the figure dressed in uniform come into the room, bearing a tray, her glass of milk upon it. Yet, absurd, the head with the uniformed cap was not a woman's head at all. The thing bearing down upon her was a cow … a cow on a woman's body. The frilled cap was upon wide horns. The eyes were large and gentle,but cow's eyes, the nostrils broad and humid, and the way she stood there, breathing, was the way a cow stood placidly in pasture”.
"Feeling a bit strange?"
The laugh was a woman's laugh, a nurse's laugh, Nurse Brand's laugh, and she put the tray down on the cupboard beside the bed. The patient said nothing. She shut her eyes, then opened them again. The cow in the nurse's uniform was with her still. It was important to gain time. The patient stretched out her hand carefully for the glass of milk. She sipped the milk slowly. The mask must be worn on purpose'. Perhaps it was some kind of experiment connected with the fitting of the lenses – though how it was supposed to work she could not imagine.
"I see very plainly," she said at last. "At least, I think I Cio."
Nurse Brand stood watching her. The broad uniformed figure was much as Marda West had imagiaed it, but that cow's head tilted, the ridiculous frill of the horns... where did the head join the body, if mask it in fact was?
"Is it a trick?" Marda West asked.
"Is what a trick?"
"The way you look ... your ... face?"
The cow's jaw distinctly dropped.
"Really, Mrs West. I'm as the good God made me."
"I didn't mean- to offend you," she said, "but it is just a little strange. You see..."
She was spared explanation because the door opened and the surgeon came into the room. At least, the surgeon's voice was recognizable as he called. "Hullo! How goes it?" and his figure in the dark coat was all that an eminent surgeon's should be, but... that terrier's head, ears pricked, the inquisitive, searching glance?
This time the patient laughed.
"Mrs. West thinks us a bit of a joke," the nurse said. But her voice was not over-'pleased.
The surgeon came and put his hand out to his patient, and bent close to observe her eyes. She lay very still. He wore no mask either. He was even marked, one ear black,the other white.
"I'll be in on Thursday," he said, "to change the lenses." Marda West could not demand an explanation. Instinct warned her that he would not understand. The terrier was saying something to the cow, giving instructions.
As they moved to the door the patient made a last attempt.
"Will the permanent lenses," she asked, "be the same as these?"
"Exactly the same." said the surgeon, "except that they won't be tinted. You'll see the natural colour. Until Thursday, then."
He was gone, and the nurse with him. She could hear the murmur of voice outside the door. What happened now? If it was really some kind of test, did they remove their masks instantly? She slipped out of bed and went to the door. She could hear the surgeon say, "One and a half grains. She's a little tired. It's the reaction, of course".
Bravely, she flung open the door. They were standing there in the passage, wearing the masks still.
"Do you want anything, Mrs West?" asked Nurse Band.