I had a truly excellent trip to A&E yesterday. Oh wait, let me back track a little... I AM QUASIMODO. I shit you not. Well, almost. I have terrible posture (I didn't realise until last week, but now I'm hyper-aware of it. It's funny, because I put so much effort into my posture when I was about 13, because I heard good posture burnt more calories) and I can speak about 10 words of French and I talk to gargoyles and I HAVE A DEFORMED EYE. Oh shit the bed, Quasi was ginger too, right? My hair is purple at the moment, but the ginger is coming back through. It's weird that Quasimodo was ginger, when you think about it, because his parents were gypos so you'd think he'd have dark hair and that. I guess it's summat to do with gingers being UGLY AND WEIRD AND DEFORMED.
So, the deformed eye.
When I was in fat camp (eating disorder treatment, hahaha), I got 5 styes. Probably summat to do with all the nutrients in the tinned mushrooms and potatoes (TINS, GLORIOUS TINS! POTATOES, FRUIT AND MUSHROOOOOOMS!) just erupting from me. I'm not used to such goodness, clearly. One of them has been knocking about since then and has evolved into a beast. Seriously, it's on the verge of growing nails and hairs and tentacles, and I am on the verge of getting an Extraordinary People TV programme made about me. I finally saw my GP about it on Monday (I have to go to the doctors every week, to get my Bipolar meds because they won't give me more than a weeks worth at once, because I'm a risk to myself. Hahahaha. But because I'm there so much, I don't like making extra appointments) and he booked me in to get in sliced in a few weeks time, in Goole. Seriously, Goole. Before it goes wrong and I am utterly blinded, the last sights I will see are Goole. I'm soaking up all the Scunny goodness I can, I want the steelworks imprinted on my brain if I'll be blind for ALL ETERNITY.
Poor Quasimodo eye really inflated this week though, and Momma Ginge took me to A&E yesterday, because she was worried that it would explode and the fallout would be even worse than the Iceland volcano thing and there would be no aeroplanes in the ENTIRE WORLD that could fly and I'd be sued by everyone. I might have to go into script form for the conversation with the dr, because it was brilliant and you should really, really want to act it out.
(Momma Ginge and I walk in, I'm wearing sunglasses)
Doctor- what can I help you wi-
(I remove my sunglasses)
Doctor- (awestruck) WHOAAAAAA.
Me- I don't want my eye to explode, because then the world will hate me.
Doctor- (recovering composure) Sorry? OK. Right, um... So. FIRST OF ALL, you should have BLAHBLAH called the out-of-hours GP service BLAHBLAH who would have told you to come here, instead of BLAHBLAH. Money, BLAHBLAH. Anyway, your eye is BLAHBLAH pus, BLAHBLAH pus-pus-pus, BLAHBLAH. INFECTION, BLAHBLAH, pus-pus-pus-pus. I'm going to prescribe you some penicillin, are you on the contraceptive pill?
Doctor- Because if you a-
Me- I'm not, though.
Doctor- But if-
Me- My last name sounds like CONDOM. Like, as in... A CONDOM.
(Momma Ginge starts fidgeting and nudging me)
Doctor- Is there a problem?
(Momma Ginge mutters about medication reacting with others)
Me- Oh! I'm on Seroquel.
Doctor- What're you taking that for?
Me- I'm crazy.
Doctor- Oh, it won't react, it'll be fine.
(Doctor stares at me, obviously terrified and I try to wink which must have ended up as a grimace, because of Quasimodo eye. He looks more scared)
(Momma Ginge starts fidgeting and nudging again)
Doctor- Is there a problem?
Momma Ginge- He wants you to take an ORAL antibiotic!
Me- Oh, i get it! Hahahahahaha, ORAL. HAHAHAHAHAHA. What? Oh, oh! No, RIGHT! Oh, doctor, she's stressing 'cause I'm Bulimic and she thinks I'll throw it up.
Doctor- How do you take the Seroquel?
Me- THAT'S A VERY GOOD QUESTION.
Anyway, then we left and I got this cool-arse eye drop gel shit, that I love and is magic (Quasi is shrinking, I'll miss him. He's a best friend) but that I can't really use because I wear contacts and ANTIBIOTICS. I love antibiotics. Ear infections thrill me, because I loves da pillz.
PS. Ignore my last post. After a week of detox and panic attacks, I have decided I really have NO desire to go back to an inpatient setting. I think I may be on my own, kids. But I'll beat this shit. I'm getting better, I'm getting better, I'm going to BE better.