August 22, 2011

so twitchy has officially been with me for 6 months. if she were a baby, i’d be easing her into solid foods {oatmeal and rice- since they’re more fiber rich and less constipating}, and introducing the sippy cup.

but she is not a baby. she is not something i birthed from the bliss of my happy marriage. nor did she stem from a deep need to create new life in the genetic ice blended of my husband and me.

this hooch just showed her unwelcome, irritating self in and up into my lower, right eyelid. she settled in, pulled up a chair, ordered a pizza, watched a little direct-tv, went through my clothes and made herself at home. and she’s been there, 24 hours a day, 7 days a week, save for a couple of hours, post mexican vacation bliss.

attempting to rid this unwanted houseguest, i went through a solid round of acupuncture. although soothing and calming, the needles were a bust. it was a bit confusing when my persian doctor would extol the merits of chinese medicine, but then tell me she was praying to jesus for my recovery. my meridians didn’t know whether to make the sign of the cross, bow or kneel.

my potassium, magnesium, b-vitamin, and caffeine levels have all been checked too…i’m a big time supplementer as it is, but now, just for good measure, i’m a mega-supplementer. i’m my own GNC store these days. yet it’s done nothing for the party bus in my eye.

two weeks ago, after a three-month wait, i finally was able to get in to see the wonder woman of eye specialty. doctor eye-fix-you-up was going to cease the six month mardi gras in lower right peeper.

as i was lead into the exam room i had to harness my deep, diaphragmatic breathing. i was excited and anxious. i was hopeful doctor-sight-for-sore-eyes was going to find twitchy a new home. i snuggled down into the large, vinyl reclining chair and waited to be cured.

three hours and 48 minutes later, i was still in the chair, still had not seen  doctor-eye-have-better-things-to-do and was one month’s salary poorer. rather than kill the wait time with the provided woman’s day and runner’s world magazines, i killed my bank account with ipad shopping. new shoes from net-a-porter, a doo-dad from 1st dibs and some potions from i was getting confirmation receipts as well as s.o.s alerts from my bank wondering if my credit card had been stolen.

when doctor-eye-get-waiting-room-kickbacks-from-american-express finally appeared, i was so grateful for the shopping intervention, i couldn’t get angry for the wait; and after all this was the woman who was about to work a miracle.

she shined blinding lights in my irises, checked my vision {20-15 thank you very much}, squirted some drops which made me cry, not tear, cry, and finished with 2 rounds of what felt like ping-pong paddles to my eyeballs. afterward, i had the disposition of declawed cat who had been given a cold, wet bath.

i was not a happy kitten. even with new fancy shoes coming in the mail.

dr. kiss-my-ass had determined that my twitch issue wasn’t of a vision origin, and decided that the best solution was to inject botox into the trouble-making party. she also decided that somewhere down the line i should come back and get a “very simple, out-patient surgery, to remove the deep, puffy bags under {my} eyes.”

doctor, you also should decide what kind of, in-patient, surgery you will need after i break your face! 

although i was not exactly thrilled with the botox idea {a giant needle of botulism into my bottom eyelid?}, i signed the waiver agreeing to possible permanent disfigurement and loss of vision, betting my money {what was left} that this woman knew best.

in went the needle. i silenced my scream, but not my tears. twitchy did her version of a scream, and twitched in hammer-time. i actually felt a bit guilty for my 6-month old, baby twitch. doctor-i -hate-children told me the botox {did you know botulism means sausage in latin} takes a couple of days to take effect.

i stumbled out, hand covering my right eye, protecting my now beloved cub.

coming home, exhausted from the ocular rape, i fell into bed, and tried to nap my morning beating, to my bank account and my eye, away.

waking up, the first thing i felt was the absence of twitchy. she was gone! hand to cheek, that reverberation down my face had vanished. something felt strange though. was it just that i was so used to my eye fluttering, that “normal face” now felt odd. i ran to the mirror to check out my miracle:

yes, my twitch had fled my lower, right eyelid.

but the little minx had journeyed her way up to my upper, left brow.


it has been three-plus weeks post socket assault. bitch twitch continues her artist in residence status. she’s partial to my lower, right barker lounger, but occasionally spices it up in the high, left loft.

i’m at a loss. i go back to doctor-my-numbing-cream-sucks in september. stay tuned.

monday happy m’loves.

  • UGH….. so much for my {self-proclaimed} brilliant Botox idea. as it is, the licensed Esthetician in me hated the idea. now, I hate it even more….


  • I know I should not be shedding even a giggle but you weave your plight so well dear Katie. I have had a twitch off & on in an eye & it seems to always be from an extra serving of stress. The photos you chose were perfect, and I mean perfect. Really truly sorry for you though Katie. It's annoying as all hell and you've been through a lot.

    Happy Monday to you too?!!! xo xo

  • Holy crap.

    I wanna see the shoes.

  • This twitch is really quite persistent. I wish I had a solution for you. Maybe an exorcism would help?

  • The way you weave the pictures with your story is brilliant, but oh how i cringed when i read about the shot to the eye {near the eye? under the eye?} i hope this twitch takes flight soon! i get them periodically–always so annoying and the only way i can get it to leave is to take a 2 day hiatus from the computer.

    xo mary jo

  • Oh my God, your stories are priceless, you have just given me the best (and only) chortle of the morning with the shifting twitchy. Is it stress? Funny also how they are prescribing Botox for everything these days, migranes, excessive sweating (which is how they discovered it)… the lot. (Sharon Stone wanted to inject her son's soles for his stinky feet, apparently) It will be the new Acai berry by the winter time.

  • Instead of a "coming to Jesus meeting", I believe I need to make the drive south for a "kick that twitch bitch ass once and for all" gathering. We shall start with sitting on the beach talking about everything and nothing at all, and wrap the however long we wish session up with exactly the same theme…chill, spill, and let 'her' know to move out for real!

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