For three years, I've had Wegener's. The first year sported the hospitalization of the ages, dating while on oxygen, and makeovers between IV changes. The second year featured a three-week relapse of the frozen joint pain that drops entire elephant herds. This year, the relapse circled back to where it all began. Scleritis. AKA, why does my eye hurt so much? Why is sunshine the enemy? Are you sure it's okay to drive with only one eye? (don't panic mom, I didn't) This dumb eye pain recurs every couple of weeks.
Before I knew that autoimmune chiggers had taken hold, we just thought I had somehow scratched my eye. An ophthalmologist gave me drops. And a patch. I hate pirates. But I like the Old West. (see photography post of March 16)
"Where's La Boeuf?"
Hey, why am I picturing Matt Damon, Texas Ranger, and the old lady from the Wendy's commercial at the same time? So many applications!! HAAAA
So here's me in my patch the first time around. The first time, my roommate in New Orleans, Karina, gave me a lovely makeover before we found a suitable, saddle up my pony, version.