Alexis’s wedding should have been the happiest day of her life, but a simple beauty treatment landed her in hospital…
Walking into the gym, I caught a familiar face smiling at me.
‘Hi, Cameron,’ I waved.
We were friends in school, but I hadn’t seen him since.
We hopped on to treadmills next to each other and started catching up.
Before long, we were regular work-out buddies.
Although I’d never thought of Cameron as anything more than a friend before, I soon realised I had feelings for him.
And it turned out he felt the same way about me.
Walking back to my car one evening, Cameron turned to me.
‘I love you,’ he blurted out.
I confessed my feelings for him, too.
We had our first date at his favourite Italian restaurant, where we flirted over the pasta.
'I don't know if I'll make it'
The following year, we went on a romantic trip to a country park.
The weather was glorious and the landscape beautiful with multicoloured autumnal leaves.
We stumbled across a waterfall and climbed to the top.
After taking in the view, I turned to face Cameron, who was down on one knee.
‘Alexis, will you marry me?’ he asked.
I burst into tears, unable to speak.
‘Yes!’ I cried through sobs.
Back home, I dived headfirst into wedding planning.
Cameron and I had both had large weddings with our previous partners, so this time, we wanted an intimate day with just our close friends and family — including my four kids, aged eight, seven, four and three.
We picked a beautiful mountain backdrop for the ceremony and a week-long break afterwards with the kids.
It was a 10-hour drive away from home, but it would be worth it for the views.
I chose a beautiful lacy dress and arranged the flowers, decorations and cake.
As a beautician, I decided to do my own hair and make-up on the morning of the wedding, but booked a lash extension appointment for a couple of days before.
I usually wore fake eyelashes, but I’d had extensions before and knew they’d save time getting ready.
At my appointment, the technician cleaned my face and taped down my bottom lashes, so they wouldn’t get glued together.
‘That’s a bit sore,’ I said, noticing how uncomfortable it felt.
‘Your eyes must be sensitive,’ she replied, taking little notice.
As the technician worked away and made small talk, all I could think about was how much my eyes hurt.
But every time I told her, she dismissed my concerns.
‘It’s almost done,’ she said.
Before long, the tape felt like razor blades against the whites of my eyes.
By the end of the two-hour appointment, I was desperate for it to be over.
‘You’re done,’ she finally said, peeling it off.
The relief was instant, but my eyes were still incredibly sore.
As I started driving home, a deep stinging sensation began, particularly in my right eye.
I pulled over and used tissues to create a makeshift eye patch.
Back home, I went straight to bed, thinking my eyes would be fine once I’d slept.
Plus, I needed a good night’s kip to prepare for the drive to our venue the next day.
But I spent the night constantly waking up due to the pain.
And in the morning, my eyes were bloodshot and raw. It felt like they were on fire.
I snapped a photo and sent it to the lash technician. She reassured me that the irritation was common.
I just need to get through this drive, I thought, taking some painkillers before bundling the kids in the car.
Two and a half hours in, the burning sensation became too much, so I pulled over.
Is there anything I can do? I desperately messaged the lash technician.
Get some eye drops and they should feel better, she replied.
We stopped off at the next shop, but it didn’t help.
It’ll be OK, the pain will go away, I told myself.
We finally arrived at our cabin at 10pm, and I told Cameron about the true extent of my pain, falling into his arms in tears, which only made the burning worse.
‘You need to see a doctor,’ he said, concerned.
The next morning, my eyes were nearly crusted shut with blood and pus.
I’m getting married today, I panicked.
I headed straight to the local hospital.
'You might lose your sight'
The doctor put some dye in my eyes, then looked at them under a special light.
‘You have cuts almost the entire length of both eyeballs, and the right one is particularly deep,’ she said. ‘You also have haemorrhages in your right eye.’
It dawned on me that the uncomfortable feeling during my appointment was because the tape was slicing away at my eyeballs, and the doctor agreed.
‘We need to give you some antibiotic eye drops urgently. If it gets infected, you could lose your sight,’ she added.
I was terrified.
I couldn’t believe that wanting to look my best for one day could change the course of my entire life.
But rescheduling the wedding was off the cards.
Our venue was nonrefundable, and we’d spent so much money.
I had no other option than to say ‘I do’ while in excruciating pain.
The doctor gave me numbing eye drops then sent me to the local pharmacy for the prescription.
But when I got there, the medication wasn’t in stock and had to be called in.
Our 5pm wedding ceremony was fast approaching.
‘I don’t know if I’ll make it in time,’ I sobbed to Cameron on the phone.
I was getting frantic when a pharmacy worker finally brought me the prescription.
Racing back to the cabin, I had just two hours to get myself and four kids ready.
It was incredibly stressful. I was rushing so much, I didn’t even get to do my hair how I wanted it.
But, thankfully, we made it in the nick of time.
Cameron and I said our vows, and although I tried my best to smile through the pain, I was in agony.
And my swollen eyes didn’t go unnoticed.
‘Your eye looks really bad at this angle,’ the photographer said as we cut the cake. ‘Can we do that again?’
It really put a damper on the day.
After a few hours, Cameron could tell I was struggling and just going through the motions.
‘Don’t worry if you need to call it a day,’ he said.
I went to bed heartbroken that my wedding had been ruined over something as small as eyelashes.
Even the rest of the trip was overshadowed by the constant aching in my eyes.
Ten days later, my left eye had fully healed, but I still had to have regular appointments with my doctor.
‘The pressure in your right eye is very high, and if that continues, you might lose your sight,’ he said.
It was a shock to hear.
I kept my lash technician updated, but she was dismissive, saying I was the only person it had ever happened to.
Five months on, I can still feel pressure in my right eye and the vision is blurred.
It might improve on its own, but I might need surgery if not. I’m stuck in limbo.
Cameron has suggested we have a vow renewal or a wedding photoshoot, so I can have a pain-free day looking the way I’d wanted to.
Although I’ll happily marry Cameron again, one thing is for sure — I’ll never get lash extensions again.
Alexis Theriot, 33