The mange

Last night, I was in bed, all exhausted, ready to go to sleep and my eye, which has been giving me trouble, started hurting and itching like crazy. Really really hurting. I lay in bed for about two hours, trying not to touch it until I couldn't stand it any more. I went and got a warm compress and sat there for another two hours trying to get the pain and itching down. Still nothing.

At this point, it is around 4 am and I decided it might be good to get a change of scenery, I went out and put the television on, ended up watching The Last King of Scotland until 6.30 in the morning. My eye was still killing me, but I was so exhausted I fell in to a fitful sleep from 6.30 until 8.00.

However, when I woke up at 8.00 in the morning I had somehow, in those two hours, turned in to some sort of a character in a horror story. My eye was swollen to the size of a ping pong ball and, obviously, swollen shut, leaking some sort of pus-like substance out of the side and it felt like someone was stabbing me with a pencil in the tear duct every few seconds.

I walked out in to the office where everyone went "YICK" and started inching away from me. Obviously, then this was a case for the clinic. I walked down to a place near us run by some Lebanese, I think, and the nurse, comfortingly, said "Ewwwww, that's gross" instead of hello.

Apparently I have some sort of an infection and am now on an interesting cocktail of drugs and drops. The swelling has gone down to the point that I can now open the eye but believe me, I am even less likely to win a beauty contest now than usual. I got through all the customs searches at the airport like a breeze, though, I don't think any of the inspectors wanted to touch me.