The doctor looked at the thing and had a disgusted look on his face as he said, "Well, it could be a lot of things. I don't know." He then wrote me a prescription for some cream, told me to slab it on there twice a day and if the monster gets any bigger to see my regular physician. Or not. Maybe a dermatologist. Or something.
So I went to the pharmacy and they didn't have the stuff and they asked me if I wanted to wait two days to have it shipped in. I looked at the lady with my one eye and asked her to call around. Somebody must have this crap. Somebody did have that crap. I went to the pharmacy next door, picked the junk up and bolted to the car. It was only 11am and if I was lucky I could be back to work by 11:30.
On the road, going 35mph while heading down a windy hill I decided now would be a good time for my first application. I opened the tube, put a dab on my finger and gently touched it to the mountain that used to be my eye. And it stung!!! I mean... STUNG! I screamed, my car swerved and through the tears in my one eye I did my best to realign my car back between the white and yellow lines.
By noon, I could open my eye a little bit. I went to work and had a crap of a day. Seriously. It was pretty bad. I almost threw my little teaching notebook down and walked out of there. Who do they think they are, anyway??
I tried the cream again that night for my second daily application. It didn't go much better than the first. The only thing more disturbing than the searing pain that went through the back of my eye, into my head and down my spine was the fact that my matching screams didn't attract a single neighbor to check up on me. Comforting.
Good news, though. I can open my eye. It's ugly. But it's open.