Sam, kudos to him, came and got me from work, and stayed with me until Andrew got home to take me to the doctor. Andrew, to his credit, offered to come into the exam room with me. I told him that I was a big girl, and if I needed him, I would call for him. (Really, all I needed was a ride to the doctor.)
I almost made Andrew take a picture of it, but he suggested that I do an artist's rendering of it, for the weak of stomach.
Jasmin, on a normal day:
Jasmin, on Monday, with her Freak Eye:
The resemblance is uncanny, right? In any case, the way the universe works, the worse I look, the better looking the firemen/paramedics/ or in this case, ophthalmologist is. Smokin' hot. Seriously.
(He was also incredibly good at his job, and had a sense of humor, which is important when you're dealing with someone like me. It seems that hiring wicked hot, super-good doctors is the trend with Kaiser. It gives all new meaning to "Thrive".)
The exchange went like this:
Dr. EyeCandy: Well, I've got good news for you.
Me: I get to keep the eye?
Dr. EyeCandy: You get to keep the eye.
He then prescribed my FAVORITE prescription to date- to go home and lay on the couch with my eyes shut. I may have professed my undying love for him. Two rest days, a few cold compresses, and some ointment later, my eyes are almost the same size and color again.
(By the way, I love ointment. I love that they're a historic cure, I love that there's an ointment for all that ails you, and most of all, I love to call 'ointment' 'oinkment'. Shades of my pig-loving childhood.)