Fucked in the Eye

Last Sunday I woke up with a small bump under my right eye. I was mildly annoyed at its appearance but there’s not much I could do about it so I slapped a little spackle over it and moved on.

And then by Thursday this seemingly harmless bump turned into a raging red swollen Cyclopsian eye that threatened to eat the rest of my head. People at work kept looking at me, heads cocked to one side, saying “Do you have really bad allergies or something?”

“No. My eye’s fucked.”

And by Friday morn, the shit had gone viral for sure and there was no doubt it would require medical intervention.

Icky.

So I rushed through my morning to be the first one through the door at The Urgent Care facility. Girlfriend and I arrived ten minutes before the place was scheduled to open only to find the waiting room already full of people including a teenage girl with The Plague Mono Typhoid Fever which she undoubtedly caught while making out with and perhaps having anal sex with the entire baseball team this past weekend (but don’t worry because she’s still a virgin), chatting away on her cell phone about getting her nails done for Prom. When I was in high school “getting your nails done” meant going to the drugstore and buying yourself a pack of Lee Press On Nails that inevitably fell off approximately 32.5 seconds later. But whatever. Times change.

I went up to the window to register and the nurse, or whatever those people wearing Winnie the Pooh scrubs are, asked me why I was there.
“My eye is all gross”
She looked at me and said “which one?”
Pointing to my eye, “Uh. My right one. See it? It’s all gross.”
“Have a seat and I’ll call you.”

We sat down and Girlfriend was remarkably well behaved and showed concern for each and every patient in the waiting room by loudly saying things like “Mommy, what’s wrong with that man’s face?” and “Mommy that woman is too big for the chair. She needs a big, big one! Silly woman! Ha, ha, ha, ha!”

Shut. up. before they throw their foreign person monkey diseases at us Girlfriend!

It was finally our turn and I answered all sorts of uncomfortable questions about my period and now I’m thinking I should have asked the nurse what my proper functions had to do with my eye being gross. And Girlfriend was good while we waited patiently for Dr. GoodDrugs to come and remove my bum peeper with what I imagined would be a rusty spoon or something like that.

The Doctor at this Urgent Care is notoriously pleasant and upbeat and you just know he’s tapping into the sample closet like a vampire in a blood bank a little bit and he’s not sharing. I choose to go to this particular one because I’m hoping he’ll OD on the happy, happy, happy and accidentally give me a little.

So far he’s been a selfish prick.

He took one look at my Cyclopsian eye and diagnosed me with The Blepharitis. This is not to be confused with The Tracoma which only poor people get in underdeveloped countries where they wash their faces with shitwater. That’s not the case here. I apparently rubbed my eye after touching something I’m allergic to, probably something at work, and it got irritated and infected.

Fabulous.

So Dr. GoodDrugs gave me a prescription for some eye de-fucking serum and out and out refused to give me Oxycontin for the pain.

Such. terrible. pain. doctor.

He didn’t believe me, the wanker.

We went across the street to Target and dropped off the prescription and clearly the Target Pharmacist is brighter than the woman at The Urgent Care because he noticed my eye was fucked right away and promised to have the eye de-fucker ready ASAP. I appreciated that because being out in public looking like this

is not on my list of fun and sexy.

As it was I still had to do the groceries and you know Friday is my Italian Stallion day at the the deli counter right?

When I got home I began my treatments immediately. I don’t know about you, but I’d rather be eaten alive by ravenous Alsatians than put stuff in my eyes. I have to use this stuff every 2-3 hours in both eyes, and it stings like a motherfucker and leaves things all blurry and so I about go into convulsions with every drop. My husband does it for me but I get in trouble because I blink so much in preparation for the stinging that he has to hold my eye open like this

to get the drops in.

Do you know what he did though? He spent the weekend carrying the eye de-fucking serum in his pocket so that it would stay warm and wouldn’t be so stingy.

I didn’t ask him to do it, he just did because he’s nice and because he knows I won’t do the drops unless he sits on my chest and holds my arms down with his knees helps me do them.

Anyway, my eye is feeling much better and the swelling and the itching and the burning have gone down considerably and maybe tomorrow I will look like a normal human and it will be time for some other minor, yet annoying malady to attack me.

Maybe it will even be the crotch rot.

We’ll see..

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