I am NOT dramatic. Nuh-uh. No Sir.

I bet you thought you came here today and were going to be greeted with another post all about my post-lasered eyeballs, right, right? Ha! You were so . . . correct. You would have to be completely bonkers if you thought that spending a week cooped up in a house eating recuperating has left me with any witty stories to tell you.

(Aside from the whole Rusty story, that is. Quick side note; Laurel, it totally rained the next day. I now dub thee, Sassy Rainmaker.)

Anyhoo, I may or may not have mentioned previously that the operation has left me with a particularly fugly deformity. There is a gigantic burst blood vessel on the side of my left eye, and it appears to be moving every now and again.

(Another side note; I totally just had to do the "L" signs with both hands to figure out which one was my left and which one was my right, and then magically use that knowledge to figure out which eye was blotchy. Am clever like that.)

I went into panic mode at first after seeing it because, it's um, really ugly? And as exciting as it sounds, I don't particularly like walking around looking like I've taken some kind of illegal drugs, have had several huge nights involving alcohol or have some strange eye disease. Next, I decided it must be somehow related to my vision and that its presence is a forewarning that I am going to go blind and OMG what the fuck was I thinking letting them zap my eyes with laserbeams? In true cycle form, I'm now back to focusing on the ugliness factor. I dislike it. Alot. I want it to go. Away. Now.

So I did what any neurotic sensible blogger of the internet-age would do; I consulted Doctor Google. Turns out, the icky red spot seems to be something which can occur after the stress of any eye surgery; "The procedure can sometimes cause small blood vessels to burst, resulting in
bleeding or subconjunctival hemmorage
into the
white of the eye, a harmless
side effect that resolves within several weeks."
I just hate it when I fall into the 'sometimes' category. Fuckers.

But more to the point, see? Not a thing to worry about! (Other than terrifying small children and possibly being arrested under suspicion of illegal narcotics.) All is well. I felt much better afterwards. And I'm absolutely not paranoid anymore. Everything is just dandy.

[Cue to a conversation taking place inside my brain at this moment.]

Crazed Brain: Fuck! The spot is a hermorrhage? Oh no! Shit!
Rational Brain: Settle down dear, it's just a fancy schmancy word for popping a blood vessel. No worries. Is it lunchtime yet?
Crazed Brain:
Rational Brain: Your eyeballs are fine, shut up dork. It's common after laser surgery. They say it will go away in a week or so.
Crazed Brain: I have a HEMMORRAGE! And it's MOVING. In my eye.
Rational Brain: I'm hungry. I feel like a chicken pot pie.
Crazed Brain: But it's a HEMORRHAGE. And it MUST be bad, because people can't even decide how to spell it on the internet!
Rational Brain: If it makes you feel any better, let's go check your Itunes. Haven't you got a Fuel song with that name?
Crazed (and temporarily distracted) Brain: Ooh! I like that song!
Rational Brain: They say HEMORRHAGE. See? They must be right.
Crazed Brain: Okay then. I feel better now, thanks.
Rational Brain: Better? Really? You're pretty calm about it all. But you're still bleeding from the eyeballs. I'd be panicking if I were you.


Crazed Brain: [flails off into the distance and then explodes.]

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