Saturday, August 29, 2009
The story of the eye
So I woke up in the morning with that infected pimple in my cheek feeling worst, Ned was still asleep, I went to the bathroom and looked at the mirror and it was really swollen, my whole cheek was puffed up and my face, on the left side just felt and looked like they belong to someone else. My lower eyelid was really swollen and tender. I was so nervous about it, didn't know what to do. I went back into bed and fall asleep.
When we woke up, much later at around 4:00, I asked Ned if he thinks I should go to the hospital, he couldn't say. I really wished he would, I know that this is my body, that I'm an adult and have to be responsible for it, but when I'm sick, or weak all I want is for someone else to take charge to tell me what to do to have all the answers.
Eventually I decided to go, we figured out that the best place would be the eye and ear clinic on 14 street, we got dressed and took the train. On the way there, I kept feeling like everyone is looking at my deformed face, my swollen eye and this ugly red rose on my cheek. I just wanted to go home and hid under the blanket.
We went into the clinic which was totally empty, just us, a couple of doctor and someone at the desk. The Doctor couldn't even see the swelling at first, he asked if I got bitten by an insect, but I said I don't think so. He said that there might not be a connection between the pimple and the eye, though to me, it does feel like it, like there's a big pool of water under my cheek, which is making my skin feel heavy and painful.
He checked by eye site which was unaffected by this, and told me that unless there is extreme pain or that I can't move the eyeball there's nothing to worry about, gave me prescription for 2 types of ointment and send me home, didn't even charge us any money or anything.
It was my first hospital experience in over 10 years I think, and the first one in NY.
I was happy to get out of there so fast, at the same time, I felt so silly for getting so scared about something that small and insignificant.
We spend the next half an hour at Duane Reade trying to get my prescription and listening to a group of Israelis yelling and trying to find the antibacterial soap.
I hate looking at myself in the mirror now, my face looks like they are heavy, all the wrinkles an lines look twice as bar, I feel and look like an old woman. I feel so guilty for not bouncing right back, for being weak and sick and needy. For not being beautiful and young.