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In Clinical Practice
Stephen G. Schwartz
Department of Ophthalmology, Bascom Palmer Eye Institute, University
of Miami Miller School of Medicine, Naples, FL, USA
Prashanth G. Iyer
Department of Ophthalmology, Bascom Palmer Eye Institute, University
of Miami Miller School of Medicine, Miami, FL, USA
Lyubomyr Lytvynchuk
Department of Ophthalmology, Justus-Liebig-University Giessen, Eye
Clinic, University Hospital Giessen and Marburg GmbH, Giessen,
Germany
Andrzej Grzybowski
Foundation for Ophthalmology Development, Institute for Research in
Ophthalmology, Mickiewicza, Poznań , Poland
The publisher, the authors, and the editors are safe to assume that the
advice and information in this book are believed to be true and accurate
at the date of publication. Neither the publisher nor the authors or the
editors give a warranty, expressed or implied, with respect to the
material contained herein or for any errors or omissions that may have
been made. The publisher remains neutral with regard to jurisdictional
claims in published maps and institutional affiliations.
Financial Disclosures
Dr. Harry W. Flynn Jr.—None
Dr. Nidhi Relhan Batra—None
Dr. Prashanth Iyer—None
Dr. Lyubomyr Lytvynchuk—None
Dr. Stephen G. Schwartz discloses personal fees from Alimera,
Bausch + Lomb, and Welch Allyn within the past 3 years.
Dr. Andrzej Grzybowski reports grants from Alcon, Bausch&Lomb,
Zeiss, Teleon, J&J, CooperVision, Hoya; lectures honoraria from Thea,
Polpharma, Viatris; member of Advisory Boards: Nevakar, GoCheckKids,
and Thea; all outside the submitted work.
Endophthalmitis
Endophthalmitis is characterized by marked inflammation of
intraocular fluids and tissues. Infectious endophthalmitis may be
categorized by the apparent cause of the infection, including the onset
of symptoms, the degree of inflammation, and other factors. The
classification helps to plan further management and helps in predicting
the treatment outcomes.
Endophthalmitis may be exogenous (caused by inoculation of
microorganisms from the external environment) or endogenous
(caused by hematogenous spread from other parts of the body). All
categories of endophthalmitis are associated with variable degrees of
marked intraocular inflammation, typically with hypopyon, in addition
to visual loss, redness, and pain.
The diagnosis, treatment, and prophylaxis of endophthalmitis have
been discussed in this book.
1. Classification of Endophthalmitis
4. Endophthalmitis Categories
5. Antimicrobial Treatment
6. Endophthalmitis Prophylaxis
8. Antibiotic Stewardship
Stephen G. Schwartz
Email: [email protected]
1. Post-operative endophthalmitis
Following cataract surgery: Acute-onset post-operative
endophthalmitis
Coagulase (−) Staphylococci, Staphylococcus aureus,
Streptococcus, Gram-negative bacteria
Following cataract surgery: Delayed-onset post-operative
endophthalmitis
Cutibacterium acnes, coagulase (−) Staphylococci, fungi
Following glaucoma surgery: Conjunctival filtering bleb-
associated infection and endophthalmitis
Streptococcus species, Haemophilus influenzae, Staphylococcus
species
Following glaucoma surgery: Endophthalmitis associated with
glaucoma drainage devices
Following elective corneal transplant
2. Post-traumatic endophthalmitis
Bacillus species (30–40%), Staphylococcus species,
Cutibacterium acnes, Pseudomonas, and Streptococcus species.
3. Endogenous Endophthalmitis
Candida species, Staphylococcus aureus, Gram-negative bacteria
(Klebsiella), Aspergillus.
2. Differential Diagnosis of
Endophthalmitis
Harry W. Flynn Jr.1 , Nidhi Relhan Batra1, Stephen G. Schwartz2 ,
Prashanth G. Iyer1, Lyubomyr Lytvynchuk3 and Andrzej Grzybowski4
(1) Department of Ophthalmology, Bascom Palmer Eye Institute,
University of Miami Miller School of Medicine, Miami, FL, USA
(2) Department of Ophthalmology, Bascom Palmer Eye Institute,
University of Miami Miller School of Medicine, Naples, FL, USA
(3) Department of Ophthalmology, Justus-Liebig-University Giessen,
Eye Clinic, University Hospital Giessen and Marburg GmbH,
Giessen, Germany
(4) Foundation for Ophthalmology Development, Institute for
Research in Ophthalmology, Mickiewicza, Poznań , Poland
Stephen G. Schwartz
Email: [email protected]
Table 2.1 Differences between toxic anterior segment syndrome (TASS) and
endophthalmitis
"She was when I left the house," said Carl, who seemed determined not
to commit himself.
"Any one with her?" again inquired the young gentleman, looking as
indifferent as possible.
"So she was, but I went for her this morning; couldn't be bothered doing
her work and my own both any longer," said Carl.
"I suppose I may go in?" said Willard, feeling a sudden thrill of pleasure
at the knowledge that this radiant girl was an inhabitant of the island.
"Yes, I suppose you may, if you like," said Carl, in a tone of the utmost
unconcern.
Thus kindly permitted, Willard advanced and rapped at the door. It was
opened by Mrs. Tom, whose surprise was only equaled by her delight at
being honored by this unexpected visit.
Near the window that overlooked the lodge, stood the golden-haired
vision of the beach. She turned round with a quick, shy glance, and blushed
most enchantingly beneath the deep, dark eyes of the stranger.
"My niece, Christie, Mr. Drummond," said Mrs. Tom, directing his
attention to her with a wave of her hand. "She got back this mornin'. I allers
find it powerful lonesome here without Christie."
"I have no doubt of it," said Mr. Drummond, seating himself. "But I
have had the pleasure of seeing Miss Christie before."
"Oh, yes."
And again Christie blushed vividly, as she recollected how she had been
caught singing.
"Miss Sibyl has gone to N—— with the clergyman's family, and will
not return for a week; and Captain Campbell has gone to Westbrook, where
his vessel is undergoing repairs. So I am left all alone, and came to pay my
respects to you."
"Then you'll stay and spend the evenin'?" said Mrs. Tom, smiling
complacently.
The evening passed away with the rapidity of magic. Christie, after
much solicitation, consented to sing for him; and if anything was needed to
fairly enchant him, that sweet, clear voice would have done it. Then, too,
Carl added to the general hilarity, by drawing out a rusty Jew's-harp, and
playing a favorite tune of his own composition. Not once during the
evening did he think of Sibyl; her dark, resplendant face, and wild fierce,
black eyes, were forgotten for the golden locks and sweet, fair face of blue-
eyed Christie—this dainty island Peri.
The hour for leaving came all too soon. As he reluctantly rose to go, he
pressed the hand Christie extended, to his lips, with such passionate ardor
that the blood flushed to her very temples, but not with pleasure. Ere he left,
Mrs. Tom cordially invited him to visit her house while he remained on the
island—an invitation he was not loth in accepting.
"I like him, Cousin Christie; don't you?" said Carl, when he had gone.
But Cousin Christie turned away without reply, longing to lay her
burning cheek on the pillow, and muse over the new and delicious joy that
was thrilling her whole heart, and in her slumber to lie dreaming "Love's
young dream."
"Christie, Christie!"
CHAPTER VII.
With a head throbbing, and pulse quick and feverish with the inward
conflict, Willard descended to breakfast.
"I don't know about that," said Captain Campbell, with his eyes fixed
anxiously on his face, "You are looking terribly feverish, and you were
complaining of a headache yesterday. I hope you are not going to be ill."
"Well, if it is not, I will have to call up Mrs. Tom to nurse you till Sibyl
comes. And, by the way, I regret exceedingly that I shall be obliged to leave
you solitary and alone for some days. Important business, that cannot be
postponed, demands my immediate attention."
"No, I think not," said Willard, with affected carelessness. "I may go
during the course of the day."
Captain Guy laughed, and hurried down to the beach. And when he was
gone, Willard arranged his slightly disordered dress and disheveled locks,
and sauntering out, almost mechanically took the road to the cottage.
It came in sight at last—this little, quaint, old house, that held all of
heaven to him now.
He thought of Sibyl, and her dark, bright, menacing eyes arose before
him, as if to warn him back.
"For your honor's sake—for your life's sake—for your soul's sake—go
not there!" said the threatening voice of conscience.
"And have I not a right to love whom I please? Why should I offer
violence to myself in leaving this bright enchantress, for that dark, wild
Amazon? Go, go, and be happy," said passion.
Mrs. Tom sat near the window, spinning and singing to herself.
Willard's eyes wandered around in search of another; but bright Christie
was not to be seen.
The widow arose, smiling, to welcome her guest, and placed a chair for
him near herself. And still Willard's eyes went wandering round the room.
"She will appear presently," he thought, not yet liking to inquire for her.
"Yes, it's as old as the hills," said Mrs. Tom, resuming her work; "and
has been in our family since the flood. I think I spun on that there wheel all
the yarn that makes the socks, mittens, and comforters for half the county
round; besides making sheets, blankets, and lots of other things for
ourselves," said Mrs. Tom, with conscious pride.
"Well, you may be jokin' now, and I dare say you are; but it is true, for
all that. Many a true word is spoke in jest, you know," said Mrs. Tom, as her
wheel went merrily round. "There ain't many women in this place o' my age
and means, can do, or does do more work than me, though I say it as hadn't
oughter. I knit, and spin, and sew, wash, brew, bake, sow, and reap, and fifty
other things, too numerous to mention, besides. Carl, if I go out there I'll put
an end to your lazin', you idle, good-for-nothin' vagabone, you!" she added,
breaking off in sudden wrath, as she espied Carl, leaning on the spade with
which he should have been digging in the garden.
"You should make Carl do these things, Mrs. Tom," said Willard, still
impatiently watching the door and wondering why Christie did not come.
"Carl?" said Mrs. Tom, with a short laugh. "Lor'-a-massy! he ain't worth
his salt; that there's the laziest, most worthlessest young scape-goat ever any
living 'oman was plagued with. I hain't a minute's peace with him night nor
day; and if scolding was a mite of good, the Lord knows he might have
been a saint by this time, for he gets enough of it."
"Christie will be disappointed at not seeing you," said the old lady,
following him out. "She went out berrying to the woods this morning, and
hain't got home yet."
Willard started at the information; and, inwardly cursing the folly that
had detained him so many hours talking to a foolish old woman, he darted
off, with a rapidity that quite amazed Mrs. Tom, in the direction of the pine
woods.
Her dress was a loose, light muslin robe, fitting to perfection her
rounded waist and swelling bust. Her straw hat lay on the ground beside
her, and her golden, sunshiny hair floated, with all its wealth of rippling
ringlets, round her ivory throat. How dazzlingly fair looked that smooth,
snowy brow, contrasted with the full crimson lips and delicately flushed
cheeks—how enchanting the long curved lashes, falling over the deep-blue
eyes—how beautiful that faultless form, that soft, gentle, happy smile of
guileless girlhood.
Willard Drummond's breath came and went, quick and short, as he
gazed, and his dark eyes filled with a subdued fire.
He advanced toward her. His shadow, falling on the grass at her feet,
was the first token she had of his coming. With a quick, startled cry, she
sprang to her feet in terror; but when she saw who it was that stood before
her, she stopped short, while the color flushed gloriously to her rounded
cheeks. Her first impression was: He has read my thoughts in my face, and
knows I was thinking of him.
"Oh, no!" she answered, blushingly. "I was only waiting to rest a little
while before going home."
"I wasn't dreaming," said Christie, innocently. "I was wide awake all the
time."
"To see me?" said Christie, with another quick, glad blush.
"And found me," she said, laughing. "If I had known you were coming I
should have staid at home."
"Perhaps it is better as it is, bright one; for I have found you alone. It is
very pleasant to have found so fair companion on this lonely isle."
"Not if I could find any better," said Christie, with a laugh; "but I have
grown so accustomed to being alone now that I do not mind it at all, as I
used to."
"And so you are perfectly happy here, fairest Christie, reigning queen of
this fairy isle?"
"Ah, no! beautiful Miss Sibyl is queen of the isle. I am only her most
loyal subject," said Christie, gayly; "you ought to know that, having paid
her your allegiance."
"What if I should say that the subject is more lovely than the queen?"
said Willard, in a low voice, and in a tone that brought the hot blood
flushing to Christie's face.
"I should say you were laughing at me, as of course you would be.
Certainly no one would ever think of me while Miss Sibyl was near. Oh!
how I wish she would always stay here, and then I would have a
companion."
"Ah, bright one! if I were in her place, what would I not surrender for
such a privilege!"
Her innocent words, her enticing beauty, her child-like candor, were a
strong temptation. For one moment he was about to fall before her, to clasp
her in his arms, to hold her there forever, while he breathed forth his mad,
passionate love, and told her nothing on earth should ever part them now.
But again rose before him the dark, warning face of Sibyl to allay the fever
in his blood. It seemed to him he could see her black, fierce eyes gleaming
on them through the trees—he could almost hear her voice shouting
"Traitor!"
And still in Willard's heart went on the struggle. He dared not look at
her as she stood before him—-bright, radiant, bewildering—lest the last
lingering remains of fidelity and honor should be swept away by the fierce
impetuosity of passion in his unstable heart.
But his good angel was in the ascendant still, for at that moment the
voice of Carl was heard calling loudly;
"Christie! Christie!"
"Here, Carl! Here I am," she answered; and in another instant honest
Carl stood before them.
"Aunt Tom sent me looking for you," said the young gentleman, rather
sulkily; "and I've been tramping through the woods this half-hour, while
you were taking it easy here," said Carl, wiping the perspiration from his
brow.
"It was all my fault, my good Carl," said Willard, as Christie hastily
snatched up her hat and basket and fled, having a just terror of Mrs. Tom's
sharp tongue. "Make my excuses to your good aunt, and here is something
for yourself."
Mrs. Tom's reproaches fell unheeded, for the first time, on Christie's ear
that day. She heard not a word of the long lecture delivered with more than
the good widow's usual eloquence, for she was thinking of another voice,
whose lowest tone had power already to thrill to the innermost recesses of
her heart. She loved without knowing it, without wishing to define the new,
delicious feeling filling her breast, only conscious she had never been so
happy before in her life, and longing for the time when she should see him
again. Ah, well had it been for her had they never met more.
CHAPTER VIII.
"Well," said Aunt Moll, to her son and heir, Lem, as he entered the long,
high kitchen of Campbell's Lodge, "I would like ter know what dat ar
Master Drummin's up ter? I doesn't understan' dese yer new-fangled young
men 'tall. Fust he comes a courtin' of our Miss Sibyl, and jes' as soon as her
back's turned he goes rite off an' takes up wid dat ar Miss Chrissy."
"'Tain't no business your'n, ole woman," said Lem, gruffly. "I 'spec's as
how Marse Drummin' knows what he's about."
"Yes, honey; but 'pears to me I ought to tell Miss Sibyl 'bout it. Ef he is
her beau, he oughtn't to be takin' up wid dat ar Miss Chrissy.'
"Better let Miss Sibyl look arter her own beau," replied her dutiful son.
"How does ye know he's a courtin' Miss Chrissy?"
"'Cause I seed dem, chile—yes I did—las' night, down on de shore. De
moon was shinin' jes' as bright as a new pin, an' I took dat ar litter o' kittens
down to de shore to drown 'em, when I seed Marse Drummin' a walkin'
along wid Miss Chrissy, and he had his head stooped down jes' so,"—and
Aunt Moll ducked her woolly head to illustrate it—"an' was whisperin' soft
stuff, jes' as folks do when dey're in love."
"Well dey come up ah' seed me, in course, an', Lor', Lor'! I jes' wish you
seed de look Marse Drummin' give me. 'Peared as ef he'd a liked to knocked
my ole head off. But I warn't afeared, 'deed I warn't, chile; so I jes' stood
still an' drapped a courtesy, an' Miss Chrissy, she got red rite up to de roots
ob her hair. 'Good-evenin', marse and young miss,' sez I; 'don't be skeered; I
only wants to drown dese little kittens,' sez I, for I thought as I might be
perlite jest as well as not.
"'Oh, how does yer do, Aunt Moll?' sez Miss Chrissy, a laughin' an'
blushin'; 'how is Lem and yer rheumatiz, dese times?'
"An' den Marse Drummin' he pulled her arm right troo his'n, and
marched her off wid him; an' den I pitched de kittens right in de water an'
come home."
"Well, dat ar warn't much," said the skeptical Lem. "Dey might be
walkin' on de beach, but that ain't by no means courtin'. Marse Drummin'
walk wid her, 'cause Miss Sibyl's gone, an' he ain't got nobody else to talk
to."
"'Cisely so, chile; but dat ain't all," says Aunt Moll. "Dis berry mornin',
as I was passin' troo de hall, de sittin'-room door was open, and I heered
voices a talkin' dere; so I listened and peeked in, an' dar was Marse
Drummin', rampin' up and down, a talking to hisself."
"Well, dat ain't nothin', eider," said the still contradictory Lem. "I've
hearn dat ar Carl talk to hisself when Miss Tom sent him out to work; an' he
ain't in love wid no one."
"But listen, honey, and don't you be puttin' me out so, 'cause 'tain't
'spectful—'deed it ain't," said Aunt Moll, getting slightly indignant. "As I
was sayin', I clapt my ear to de door, an' I heered him sayin' jes' as plain as
nothin' 'tall;
This last was a settler. Lem felt that his mother had the best of the
argument, and unwilling to seem defeated, he went out, leaving the old lady
to enjoy her triumph.
Three days had passed since the departure of Sibyl, and certainly
Willard's conduct seemed to justify Aunt Moll's suspicions. Unable to break
the thrall which bound him, wishing, yet unable to fly from the spell of the
enchantress, he lingered still by her side. There were shame, dishonor, sin,
in remaining, but oh! there were death, misery, and desolation in going. All
worldly considerations, her unknown birth, her obscure connections, her
lowly rank, were swept away like walls of cobweb before the fierce torrent
of passion that overwhelmed, conquered every other feeling in its
impetuous tide.
And she loved him, this angel of beauty, this fairy princess of the isle;
he could see it in the quick flush of joy at his approach, the quick, burning
glances shot from her beautiful eyes, more quickly averted when they met
his—her low, impassioned tones, her bright, beautiful blushes. There was
joy, there was rapture in the thought; and yet, unless he forgot honor, vows,
all that should have been sacred, what did this love avail?
Once only, fearing lest her suspicions might be aroused by his absence,
he had visited Sibyl, whose rapturous greeting and confiding love made him
feel far more of a villain than ever. He looked forward with dread to the
period of her return, fearing for the discovery of his falsity; but, more than
all, fearing for the effects of her fierce wrath on Christie, knowing well
what must be the strength of Sibyl's passion when unchained.
And so, when Mrs. Brantwell proposed that Sibyl should remain with
her another week, instead of returning to the dreary isle, instead of feeling
irritated now, he backed the proposal, saying that perhaps it would be better
for her to do so, more especially during her brother's absence.
And Sibyl, in her deep love and woman's trust, suspecting nothing,
fearing nothing, consented, to the inward joy and sincere relief of her false
lover.
Resolving to visit her frequently, and so allay any suspicions that his
absence might give rise to, Willard Drummond returned to the island and to
—Christie, yielding himself without further effort to the witching spell of
her love.
"But, I suppose," was always her conclusion, "It's because it's Miss
Sibyl's home, and, for her sake, he stays there until she comes."
But Christie, though she only blushed and was silent, was of a different
opinion—one that she would scarcely own to her own heart. As to his being
in love with Christie, Mrs. Tom would have scouted the idea with scorn and
unbelief, had she heard it. Every circumstance was against such a
conclusion. He was rich, highly connected, and proud as a prince of the
blood; she was poor, unknown, and, compared with him, uneducated.
Besides, in the good widow's opinion, she was a child in feeling, as she
certainly was in years, scarcely knowing the meaning of the word love.
Ah! she had been till he came; and his fervid, impassioned words, his
burning glances, his thrilling touch, had swept away the glamour of
childhood and simplicity, and revealed to her the passionate woman's heart
within her. His words, his looks, his tones, were all new revelations to the
artless, island maiden, changing her, as if by magic, from a child to a
woman. She revered him as the embodiment of all that was brave, generous,
and noble; worshipped him as a god, and loved him with all the affection of
her fresh, young heart, with all the ardor of a first, deep love.
As yet, she knew not whether that love was returned; for, unfaithful as
he was in thought to Sibyl, passion had not yet so totally conquered his
reason as to make him sin in words. He had never said, "Christie, I love
you;" but, ah, how often had his eyes said this, and much more; and how
long would this slight barrier stand before the fiery impetuosity of unstable
youth?
And so that day passed, and the next, and the next, and the next, and
with every passing hour the temptation grew stronger and harder to be
resisted. Matters must come to a crisis now, or never. Sibyl, in a day or two,
would be home, and this wild frenzy of his could be hidden no longer. If she
should come, as matters stood now, all would be lost.
It was a glorious August afternoon. The island wore its bright dress of
green, and nestled in the blue shining river like an emerald set in sapphire.
The birds in the deep pine forest were filling the air with their melody, and
the odor of the wild roses came floating softly on the summer breeze.
"Oh, that I had never met this dark, passionate girl!" he murmured,
distractedly, "who now stands between me and the heaven of my dreams; or
would that I had seen this beautiful, enchanting Christie first! Oh, for that
angel as my wife! And but for those fatal vows once made to Sibyl, she
might be mine. I was mad, crazed, to mistake my fancy for that dark, wild-
eyed girl for love! And now, for that one mistake, am I to be wretched for
life? Shall I give up this beautiful, radiant creature, who loves me, for one I
care for no longer? No; the struggle is past. Christie shall be my bride, and I
will brave the worst that may follow!"
He set his teeth hard; and, as if fearing second reflection might make
him change his mind, he left the house and hurried out to meet Christie.
She sat, sewing, under the shade of the drooping willow, singing softly
to herself, and looking like some sylvan goddess of a sylvan scene; or some
beautiful sea-nymph, just risen from her grotto of coral and chrystal.
Radiant and bewildering was the smile and blush with which she
welcomed him—a smile and blush that might have been found too strong
even for more potent principles than his.
"And why should you be troubled, bright one? What can there be to
grieve one so fair?"
"You offend me, gentle one—you who never offended any one in your
life? No, no; it is not that."
"Oh, Mr. Drummond! what has happened!" she cried, laying her hand
on his, and looking up wistfully in his face.
Her touch, her tone, her look swept away every remaining trace of
fidelity. He forgot everything he should have remembered—his vows, his
honor, his truth—and saw nothing but the bright, radiant, bewildering
vision before him. In an instant he was on his knees at her feet, exclaiming,
with impassioned vehemence:
He was pale and panting; his eyes were fierce and burning; his tones
low, thrilling, and passionate.
Trembling, shrinking, blushing, yet, with a deep, intense, fervent joy
thrilling through her heart and being, Christie listened. The blood swept in
torrents to her face, neck, and bosom, which rose and fell with her rapid
breathing. She dare not look up to meet his ardent, burning, gaze.
Still no reply, only those downcast eyes, deepest blushes, and quick,
hurried breathing.
"Speak! speak! my beautiful love! only one word from those sweet lips;
but one touch of your dear hand to tell me I may live," he cried, growing
more wild and impassioned.
With a low, glad cry of intense joy, she buried her blushing face on his
shoulder.
"Oh, Mr. Drummond, your love is all the reward I ask!" she said, in the
deep, earnest voice of perfect trust.
"But oh! can you love me thus—me, a poor, little, nameless, uncultured
girl, while you are rich, distinguished, and highly connected. Oh, Willard,
will you not, some day, repent this choice—you, who might win the highest
and fairest in the land?"
"Speak not of death; it is not for such as you, bright, beautiful Christie.
And now, only one thing is wanting, to make me the happiest of men."
"Christie, one little word from you, and ere the sun rises on a new day,
my joy will be complete—my cup of earthly happiness will be filled to the
brim."
"Dearest love, you will not refuse? It will be but a small matter to you,
and will make me supremely blessed."
Again the eloquent blood swept over her stainless neck and bosom, but
she did not reply.
"You will not refuse me, my own Christie, this last, greatest favor?
Comply now—to-day; for if the present opportunity passes, it may never
occur again."
"But how—how can we be wedded here?" she said, shyly, lifting her
eyes to his impassioned ones, and dropping them in brightest blushes.
"Christie, yonder lies a boat; it is three hours to sunset; long before that
time we can reach Westport; there we can find a clergyman, and there you
can become my own for life!"