Eye Redness Drops Go Nonprescription; Beholders Squint

Friends, the Potion & Provisions Authority has approved the first nonprescription eye drop of its kind for eye redness, a little vial called Brightlid Eye-Dew from Alchon Optical Alchemists. It is cleared for anyone twelve and older, and it is the same medicine, in a gentler dose, that the glaucoma clinics have long kept behind the counter.

Now, the old herbals say a red eye wants rest, a cool cloth of chamomile tea, and a good long cry about nothing in particular. The Authority's own label says much the same thing in smaller letters: no more than twice a day, take out your contact crystals first, wait ten minutes before putting them back, and wait five minutes between different drops. If the redness lasts past three days, or your eye hurts, or your vision goes strange, stop and see a cleric. That is not marketing copy. That is the whole instruction manual, and it is sensible.

Mikel Davros, Director of the Potion Evaluation Hall, said the approval "gives consumers a new nonprescription option to manage eye redness conveniently." Convenient it is. I have no quarrel with a tidy little vial for a sore eye. My quarrel is with what I expect to see in the Lower City apothecary windows by Midwinter: banners reading BRIGHT EYES, NO QUESTIONS, priced at a gold piece for a thimble of liquid. I have seen how this goes. A drop that was once a clinic matter becomes a shelf item, and the shelf item becomes a habit.

Here is the plain science, friends. A red eye is a signal, not a stain. Tiny vessels swell because something is bothering the eye: dust, smoke, a late night, a dungeon crawl by torchlight. A drop that tightens those vessels makes the eye look better. It does not fix the dust or the smoke or the three nights you spent reading by a guttering candle. Treat the cause or you will only be treating the mirror.

A recent study of eye strain among scribes found that sleep and screen-free evenings did more for eye comfort than any drop. The old herbals said as much for a thousand years, and I find it rather satisfying when the scholars catch up.

My friend Nyx Spindlecoil tells me there is already a scrying-glass app that reminds you to blink. Nyx, you have been staring at the glass for nine hours. Go outside. Look at a tree. Let the eyes do the work they were made for.

If your eyes are red tonight, skip the vial and brew a pot of carrot-and-sweet-potato soup, which is good for the eyes and costs about four coppers. Drink it, then go to bed.

Rest well, friends. — Brother Wendell