So I did the math:
(Advice I could have gotten from Google)+
($30 prescription that may or may not work)+
(Waiting for 35 minutes at ghetto Kroger's pharmacy window while they tell me my name isn't in the system even though I've had elevenbajillionkerfuckedy prescriptions filled there)+
(Explaining to the pharmacy tech that there's an APOSTROPHE in O'Brien and that's why they can't find me in the computer)+
(Hoping they know what an apostrophe is, but doing the little apostrophe finger gesture just in case)+
(I have no vacation or sick time [or patience] left between now and Christmas)=
FUCK IT, I'LL JUST BE THE ELEPHANT WOMAN FOR A FEW DAYS
Which, even in the last 24 hours, has taught me a valuable lesson.
I would be the most annoying insecure handicapped person ever!
I can't just have elephantitis of the eye and go about my business. I have to keep bringing it up. I have to always call attention to the elephantitis in the room.
--Hey, Amanda. Here's the first round of ad comps.
--YOU'RE LOOKING AT MY EYE, RIGHT? ISN'T IT GROSS? AREN'T I GROSS? I'M SORRY YOU HAVE TO LOOK AT ME! I HAVE NO RIGHT TO EXIST LOOKING LIKE THIS, I KNOW. I'M DISGUSTING.
--Well, I hadn't noticed until you brought it--
--It's okay. Don't feel bad. My eye is sinful and unclean and I am unworthy of love and affection.
I'm always amazed at the confidence of people who have serious physical deformities. They don't seem compelled to tell everyone around them what happened. And of course they shouldn't. It's none of our business. But I know if it were me, I'd be walking around pointing at my head like "Cooking accident. Grease fire. Hideous, right?" And I'd wear a laminated "before" photo on a lanyard around my neck.
Anyway, this is getting long.
If you know something I don't know about swollen eyelids, and you think there is a legitimate reason to see a doctor, please (without scaring the crap out of me) let me know.
Otherwise, I'm going to just wait and see (out of my good eye).