Saturday, July 23, 2011

Random Eye-Thingy

If things like body fluids, pus, zits, and general nastiness bother you, I would not suggest reading this.

I awoke yesterday morning with a red, puffy, sore eye.  When I say sore, I mean it's painful to touch.  That's weird, I thought, but quickly got on with my day.

Last night, I roused John from his peaceful sleep.  There was ooze coming out of my eye.  "Honey, I hate to bother you, but I need you to look at something".  He follows me in to the bathroom, looks at my eye and tells me I have a pimple in the corner of my eye.  Either very near the tear duct or in the corner of my eyelid.  "WHAT?!?  How the hell does someone get a pimple on their eye?".  I decide that whatever was in it has oozed out:  get rid of random eye-thingy.  Check.

WRONG!  I woke up this morning with it swollen shut.  You should have seen the ways I was contorting my face just to get my eye open enough for me to see.  It's just aggravated from me messing with it last night, I thought, it'll go away.  (Denial . . . . party of one?).  The way my eyelid is swollen and eye misshapen, I now look like some sort of Chinese frog . . . . on one side of my face. 

As the day wears on it gets worse.  John tries his best to pop a zit in the corner of my eye.  Yeah, notsomuch.  "You just need to mash it to get the gunk out of it", he says.  Um, not no, but HELL no.  At this point it's REALLY red and swollen tighter than Dick's hatband.  It hurts to blink.  Not only that, whatever is in there I am afraid will drain INTO MY EYE.  Nuh-uh.  I try my best to ignore it.  I go to Subway to pick up lunch.  I raise my sunglasses and the lady beside me notices my eye.  Obviously, 'cause her face scrunches up like she just smelled a rotten egg.  Then she covers her mouth with her hand and gasps.  Nice. I flashed her my "go-to-hell" smile and got out of there as fast as I could. 

My mother says, "You really need to go to the doctor".  Dammitall! 

Off I go to a doc-in-the-box hoping to find some relief.  They are packed.  "Ma'am, go ahead and sign in, but just to let you know, there's at least a two-hour wait".  Great.  She hands me some paperwork and tells me to have a seat.  I scan the waiting room:  there's coughers, hackers, I-don't-even-want-to-effin'-knowers, and body fluids seeping out of various other prisoners there.  Screw it, I'll risk going blind in one eye before I wait here all afternoon.  The nurse suggested I try some warm compresses. Compresses . . . . . . fantastic. 'Cause I hadn't thought of that.

Alas, I will probably be back there first thing in the morning.  Imma have to do something soon because Morgan and Chuck keep looking at it like they're expecting it to up and wave or talk to them.  And the expression both of them have on their face is one of utter disgust.  "Eeeeeew.  What is that?".  Nice.

I have included a nasty picture, so you can spend the rest of the night trying to forget you saw it.  Quite frankly, I really shouldn't have to deal with the trauma of this alone.  Yeah, you're welcome.


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