12/11/11: Bug-eyed and Baffled

It was 4 a.m. on a rainy, cool November morning. Yawning, I put the kettle on. A cup of delicious freshly ground coffee would soon follow.

I yawned again, then paused. Hmmm. My face felt weird. Trotting into the bathroom I looked in the mirror — and reeled back, horrified. My left eyelid was massively swollen! The eye underneath had vanished. Sleep-mussed hair poked in every direction, adding to the awful picture.

What on earth had happened?!

I paced the floor, hyperventilating, and nearly witless with worry. That left lid looked as though a jokester had inserted a steroid-pumped purple grape into it. My heart pounded. I felt panicky. Was Urgent Care open at this hour? Joe was in Saginaw, so I was alone… Whoa! I was skittering into ‘the sky is falling’ mode. I forced myself to stop flapping around and think about what I did know. Assemble facts, then build solutions.

1. Only the left eyelid was distorted. It was a vivid purple-red, and getting bigger by the minute.

2. Was this a tumor? They can grow fast, but this would make the record books! Gulp! How far could the lid stretch before it split?

3. I’d been hit by a three-quarter-ton pickup truck nine years ago. The optic nerve fried from the heat of subsequent swelling, leaving my left eye blind. Bugs always sniff out my injured side, even years after the incident. (One good thing: this horror didn’t hurt, because that part of me is partially numb.)

4. Wait! Go back to number 2. No tumor could grow this fast, dummy. I relaxed slightly.

5. Review number 3 - the part about bugs. Something similar had happened before, about seven years ago. But it was my tear duct that a no-see-um or mosquito had attacked. The left side of my face ballooned into an enormous, slit-eyed Miss Piggy countenance: that awful, asymmetrical nightmare had had to be endured for over two weeks. (Even my doctor had recoiled. I wore a bag over my head that time.)

6. A closer examination now revealed two puncture wounds. Conclusion: a spider had speared me while I’d slept. She must have dumped her whole poison sac in there. (This is one disadvantage to living in a venerable old house.)

7. The rest of me was OK. I wasn’t dying, except for a cup of coffee. (More good news: though poked, I’d joked.)

And so, having sorted the situation, I settled down to wait it out.

The first day passed. I applied hot compresses and OTC cortisone cream to the balloon, and stayed indoors.

Three more days passed. The best news: the massive swelling stayed put. The rest of me remained normal. I had to laugh: it looked as though Rudolf’s red nose had taken up residence in/on my eyelid. I looked ridiculous.

A week trundled by. Wearing a pair of enormous extra-dark sunglasses I managed to shop for groceries, but slipped up: I took them off to write the check. The clerk’s horrified reaction required a lengthy explanation. I didn’t forget again.

It’s much improved after nearly three weeks. Only a fat, pea-sized red ball remains. I wouldn’t frighten anyone now. Much. Another week should do it.

Some final thoughts:

- That eyelid, when in full bloom, eerily resembled spider orbs.
- Why did she inject herself into my life? Why there?
- Wayward spiders are always escorted outside, but, clearly, those countless rescues hadn’t earned me points. Spidey had attacked me anyway.

It won’t happen again. I’ve thoroughly sprayed my bedroom with spider-killer, not forgetting the vents.

Even bug-eyed, I can bite back!

Leave a comment