An Open Letter To Persil About My Eyeball Injury

Dear Persil,

I am writing to you about your non bio small and mighty washing detergent. See Exhibit A below.

Exhibit A

Exhibit A

Firstly, let me tell you a bit about myself. I am an Irish mother of four living in Dublin. I spend an awful lot of money on washing detergent because my children love dirt and I spend a significant proportion of my time washing clothes. I will admit to being fickle in my washing powder choices and will mostly purchase whatever is on offer but nonetheless I am a loyal enough Persil consumer over the years.

Dublin is currently in the middle of a heatwave. It is pretty disgustingly hot, truth be told, but the one advantage is that there is great drying out. Ireland in the sun means there are thousands of Irish people stipping beds, curtains, seat covers and washing them right now to get the full benefit of the great drying.  I digress……..

Let me tell me about my morning, Persil. My youngest daughter is two months old. She was due to get her first vaccinations earlier this month. Our GP runs a ridiculously busy  surgery so you can imagine my delight, when I phoned this morning to be told, that there was nobody there this morning and if I came down quickly, the doctor could administer the vaccinations then and there with no wait time. This is such a rare occurance and so much better than having to sit around waiting in a doctors waiting room with four children in the oppressive heat. I was delighted, then my luck changed.

I decided I would put a wash on before we ran out the door and took out my recently purchased bottle of Persil Small and Mighty whilst telling the kids to get their shoes on and hurry up. As you well know there is a top on the bottle which you need to remove before using. Please see exhibit B below.

Exhibit B

Exhibit B

Its a tricky little bugger and requires some force to get out but out it came and with it came a small dollop of the detergent. This dollop, which I can confirm , is indeed very small and very mighty, shot out of the bottle at great speed into my eyeball.  MY EYEBALL.

I cannot begin to explain the shocking excruciating pain. It was like a thousand burning forks being stabbed into my eyeball. Persil, I am not bad with pain. I recently gave birth at home with no medical assistance or pain relief. The pain of your small and mighty detergent shooting into my eye was more horrendous. I screamed. I wailed. I considered trying to remove my eye myself to make the pain stop. My eldest daughter got me some tissue and my boy offered to get me a plaster. Thankfully they were more amused than scared by my blood curdling screams. I am pretty lax about swearing around the kids but never use proper really foul language. Until today. Today they may have learned the c word.   I wanted to curl up into a ball and scream continously but the doctor was waiting…….

So I loaded my children into the car and off we went. It is only a short drive to our GP. Persil, have you ever noticed when your are concentrating on one sense, your other senses are compromised? For example if I am trying to read a road sign, I need to lower down the car radio. In this instance because I was concentrating so much on trying to see properly , my sense of smell failed me. I got to the doctor, my injured eye was now bright red, bloodshot and throbbing with pain and it was only when I took the baby out of her carseat did I notice she had  had a rather explosive poo. You know the type that soaks through a nappy and  clothes. The doctor took one look at me- Bedraggled, red eyed, surrounded by children, weary. Weary and it was only 9.45am. I had to change the baby on the doctors examination table. I then had to strip the table and the baby because they were destroyed. I too was covered in poo at this point but I didn’t have the option to strip, athough had I, it may have distracted from my hideous looking eye.

The baby then got her vaccinations. Did I mention she is my fourth baby? It doesn’t get any easier watching a needle being plunged into your tiny baby’s soft little thigh and the accompanying look of horror on her face when the pain hits her. She wailed. I cried. Then because of her wailing, my boobs started to leak, badly. The severe eye injury had distracted me and I had forgotten to put on breast bads. So baby screaming, other three children watching, me red eyed, still in pain, covered in poo and breast milk. You still with me? Good.

The doctor asked what was wrong with our eyes……. I looked around confused. My four year old daughter were wearing 3D glasses with the lens removed. I hadn’t noticed. I explained there was nothing wrong . He asked when she had gotten glasses. He asked what had happened my eye. I tried to explain  but it was all too much at this stage and I didn’t want him to touch my eye or explain about my four year old’s fashion statements. I don’t like anything or anybody touching my eyes,Persil. We got up to go. I was broken at this stage. The pain was getting worse.I considered giving in, telling the doctor what happened and getting a referral for the eye hospital and then like magic, the tiny drop of detergent, rolled out of my eye. Very small and very mighty. The pain eased. We came home. The 4 year old got out her doctors set and used the fake otoscope to check my “very sore fooking eye”. She has repeatedly banged this against my eye over the last hour.

Persil, it hasn’t been a very good morning. To be fair there is a warning on the bottle to say keep out of eyes. I did keep it away from eyes. It was a good two feet from my eyes, when it shot out and attacked my eyeball. Perhaps you would consider adding a warning or maybe a line under the kind to skin on the packinging. How about “kind next to skin, fucking horrible to eyeballs?”

Kind to skin, very unkind to eyeballs

Kind to skin, very unkind to eyeballs

Best regards,

From a broken person who thankfully still ,just about, has two functioning eyes.


46 thoughts on “An Open Letter To Persil About My Eyeball Injury

  1. Suzy says:

    Yikes! I feel bad for laughing at your pain, but I totally am. I don’t know about you, but whenever shitty things happen to me (usually involving actual shit – so it goes when you’re a parent), there is a tiny part of me that celebrates the fact that I’ll get a good blog post out of it. At least we get to channel our pain/faeces/eyeballs into art…

  2. Lisa says:

    Oh no, it definitely makes my puke covered start to the morning less of an issue! Hope your eye is ok! And you got a v funny post out of it, some form of reward!

  3. SusieChopstick says:

    Poor you! I’ve had the poo-filled visit to the doctor, mind you. Plus the hands-in-the-nappy-and-poo-around-the-mouth episode. My bottle of Persil disgorged its little stopper the other day and hit me just below the eye – so maybe they do have an issue there that they need to address! Thankfully none of the kids tried to open it. I have never, thankfully, got Persil in my eye but the granddaughter of a colleague burst a dishwasher capsule in her eye, and was under medical care for 6 months. You were lucky.
    And yes, your mini hipster is adorable. Even if she does give her glasses to the dog.

      • SusieChopstick says:

        It was everywhere. Poo on the mattress, walls, bars of cot. In his hair, around his mouth, on his hands, smeared on his toys. So he had eaten some of it without a doubt. He was our third though, and we had developed a level of sanguinity about certain things. Did you know that if you google ‘my child ate his own poo’ roughly half of the answers are ‘OH MY GOD get him to the ER fast!’ and half are ‘Oh my kid did that. As long as it was his own poo it’s ok.’ We went with the second. He’s never looked back – but he ALWAYS wears a onesie in bed now, regardless of how hot it is!
        That little girl is fine – started school last year. But had a lucky escape, her eye had to be irrigated and dressed a good few times before it stopped being swollen and really sore.

  4. Aileen says:

    This is so funny. Sorry for laughing!!! I can just imagine the state of you at the doctors!!!! I call those explosive nappies ‘poonamis’

  5. socialbridge says:

    Can hardly see with the laughing to write this! Hope you’re doing better today.
    AND I hope that Persil sees your blog. It reminds me (a little) of a time when I was very small and with my mother’s encouragement sent back a bar of gone off choc to a major choc company. They sent me an ENORMOUS ribbon covered box instead. So, let’s hope you get a free holiday out of this!!

  6. karen Oliver says:

    Thank goodness I found this letter! The same thing has literally just happened to me – unfortunately it is Friday night and the wrath of my anger will have to wait until their customer services opens! Wish I had taken photos of my eyes – I was dealing with the EXCRUCIATING PAIN! I loved your letter – it made me properly belly laugh! Hope your eyes feel better!

  7. worzelodd says:

    When my sister was five, my brother and I were in school, so she had our Ma to herself most of a year. They had the bright idea to preserve starfish in formaldahyde, they aquired a large jar from the Chemist, and my sister dropped it in the bread aisle of the grocers…there was a mass barf-o-rama and complete evacuation of the store. Ma lived there all her life and never set foot back in that grocers. At least no one got it in their eyes…

  8. ticklestobother says:

    One of those situations where you know you shouldn’t laugh but you just can’t help it! Great blog post by the way and congratulations on being Freshly Pressed. I love you style of writing, glad you could find humour in it all. Thank you.

  9. Angie K says:

    Wow, Iove your style! My face is wet with tears. I had stop reading this a few time simply because I was laughing so hard I could’t stop. 🙂 Sorry for your pain, but a bloody good read!!

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