A Day in Menopause · A Hormonal Comedy by Nurit Rozenblat
Chapter Thirteen: 19:03 — Sand in My Eyes
At 19:03 Dana sat on the sofa in the living room and tried to read.
The food ordered for seven hadn't arrived yet.
Eyal had decided on seven.
The delivery man decided otherwise.
The book had been open on the same page for ten minutes.
Not because the plot was complicated.
Because her eyes burned.
She read a line.
Blinked.
Read the same line again.
Blinked twice.
Dana checked whether her lash extensions were still holding up, blinking rapidly.
The third time, the line already looked like hieroglyphics.
She held the book out at arm's length.
The letters stayed blurry.
She brought it closer.
Even blurrier.
"Great. Not close, and not far either."
"Great," she said. "Now the eyes, too."
She put the book down and rubbed her eyes.
"Don't rub."
"Excuse me?"
It was the voice.
"Oh. It's you. For a second I thought the sofa was talking."
Today anything was possible.
"What's wrong with them?"
Dry eyes, the voice remarked. During the transition to menopause, hormonal changes can also affect tear production and the quality of the tear film. The result, for many women, is dry, burning eyes, and sometimes a feeling of sand in the eyes.
"Sand."
Yes.
"I live by the sea and didn't know it?"
You don't need a sea for that feeling.
"And the print?" Dana asked. "Why are the letters running away from me? I held it away, I brought it closer — they refuse to cooperate."
That's a different story, the voice said. Near vision weakens in most people after the age of forty. The lens of the eye becomes less flexible, and it has trouble focusing on nearby objects. It's called presbyopia. It's mainly a matter of age, not a classic hormonal symptom — it simply arrives in the same years, so everything piles up together. And when dryness joins in, reading becomes twice as hard: the dryness blurs, and age doesn't help. The solution is usually simple — an eye exam and reading glasses when needed.
"So — two problems, one bill."
More or less.
Dana blinked again.
"And the tears? Why are my eyes suddenly flooding? You just said dryness."
It happens. A dry, irritated eye sometimes produces tears in response to the irritation. But those tears don't always relieve the dryness, because the problem is also in the composition of the tear film, not just the quantity.
"So there is water, just not the right kind."
In simple words, yes.
"My body runs an entire irrigation system with breakdowns. Too hot on top, dry in the middle, and dry down below too. Is there any zone that gets proper service?"
The ears are fine for now.
"Don't give it ideas."
Eyal, sitting at the other end of the sofa with his tablet, raised his head.
"Are you crying?"
"No."
"Your eyes are red."
"Thanks for the report."
"And teary."
"A thorough examination."
He put the tablet down.
"Is it because of the book? Is it sad?"
"It's a thriller."
"So why are you crying?"
"I'm not crying, Eyal. My eyes burn. I feel like I have sand in my eyes."
"Sand?"
"Sand."
"Sand from where? We're in the living room."
"That's what I've been trying to figure out for ten minutes."
Eyal took his glasses off his forehead and held them out to her.
"Try these."
"Those are your reading glasses."
"Exactly."
She put them on and looked at the book.
"Now the letters are big and blurry."
"With me they're just big."
"Put them back on your forehead, Eyal. That's where they work best."
He put them back on his forehead.
Eyal got up.
"I'll bring you water."
"Water is for the mouth."
"So what do you bring for eyes?"
"Drops. Which we don't have."
He sat back down.
"I'll write it down. Pharmacy tomorrow."
"Tomorrow. And in the meantime?"
"In the meantime, blink."
Dana looked at him.
"That's your medical advice?"
"That is good advice, by the way," the voice remarked.
"Excuse me?"
When we read or look at a screen, we blink much less than usual. The eye dries out faster. Short breaks and conscious blinking really can help a little.
Eyal, who hadn't heard the voice, said at that exact moment:
"I told you. Blink."
Dana looked at him.
"Do you two work together?"
"Who?"
"Nothing. Go on."
There is something else that can help, the voice continued. A warm compress on closed eyes for a few minutes. The warmth can help the oil glands in the eyelids, which keep the tear film from evaporating too quickly.
"A warm compress. On the eyes."
Yes.
"Because this day wasn't hot enough."
On the eyelids it's a gentle warmth. It's not a hot flash.
"I'll write it in the protocol: requested heat, unrequested heat."
And preservative-free artificial tear drops can help many women. If the dryness persists, comes back, or there is pain, significant redness, discharge or a change in vision — you should be examined by an eye doctor. And sometimes there are other causes, like certain medications or other medical conditions, and those are worth looking into.
"So, pharmacy tomorrow, and a doctor if it doesn't pass."
Right.
"I wrote it down. In my head."
As always.
"This time I'll really write it down," she said, and opened the notes on her phone.
She typed:
Eye drops.
She looked at the screen.
Her eyes burned even more.
"Eyal, you write it. My eyes are on strike."
Eyal took his phone and wrote.
"Written: eye drops. Pharmacy. And also — ask the pharmacist what's suitable."
"And add: an eye exam."
"For you?"
"For both of us."
"Nice. You're progressing."
"I know. Today I learned where cream goes and where it doesn't."
"An important lesson."
Dana placed a small warm towel on her eyes, as the voice suggested.
She leaned back.
"How is it?" Eyal asked.
"Warm. But the good kind of warm."
"There's a good kind of warm?"
"Apparently."
He went back to his tablet.
After a minute he said:
"Dana."
"What?"
"I've read the same line four times now."
"Maybe the sand in the eyes is contagious."
"Or I need glasses."
"Your glasses are on your forehead."
He raised a hand to his forehead.
"Oh. Right."
Dana smiled under the towel.
"At least with you it's a storage problem, not sand."
At 19:21 the doorbell rang.
The food had arrived.
Twenty-one minutes late, but it had arrived.
Dana removed the towel and blinked slowly.
Her eyes still burned, but less.
She looked at the book on the table.
"Tomorrow," she told it. "Tomorrow I'll know who the killer is."
Eyal got up toward the door.
"If he waits."
"He'll wait. He's in a book. He has nowhere to go."
It was 19:23.
Dana discovered that her body knew how to produce heat, sweat and tears — but one properly organized tear film was apparently too big a project for one day.
Eyal discovered that he and the inner voice sometimes agreed.
It was a surprise to both of them.
And the book?
It stayed on page 112.
The killer would wait until tomorrow.
Together with the pharmacy and the eye exam.
End of Chapter Thirteen.
Continued in Chapter Fourteen: 19:47 — Who Is Beeping in My Ear?
© 2026 Nurit Rozenblat. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or distributed without the author's prior written permission.
