Every parent thinks their child is the most wonderful one in the world and they should. I’m sure that’s part of our genetic programming to ensure the survival of our offspring when they deliberately keep us up all night, or play with their poo. It’s just natural. (Adoration that is; not entertainment via fecal matter.)
Having said that, I have it on good authority that my little mate, is pretty darn amazing. It’s not unusual for someone to tell me he is ‘just the most beautiful little boy,’ at which point I have to heartily agree with them. He really is, the most beautiful little boy.
Which is why when the optometrist on Monday terrified me by insisting we see an Ophthalmologist ASAP, I couldn’t really comprehend what was going on. I mean I understood the possible nasty scenario’s that can not bear speaking, let alone writing, but I couldn’t understand why. Or how? Illness is never easily comprehensible to anyone, but didn’t they know who he was? This is my boy. My beautiful boy! Surely nothing can happen to him? That is all kinds of wrong.
I realise now, that it wouldn’t matter which child it was, I would have felt the same. And more than that, it doesn’t matter whose child it is, I would have felt the same. The fact that anything sinister could ever happen to any child ever, is all kinds of wrong.
Thankfully, this is a story that has a not so sinister ending.
Late Tuesday afternoon, Boatman armed himself with he referral from the Optometrist, and marched himself into the ophthalmologists office to ask if it had been seen. The Optho chose that moment to emerge from his office, had the referral thrust into his hands, and we were given his earliest appointment for Tuesday.
Earliest being 1230 arrival time, but told to wait because he was in surgery and running late. We finally got seen at about quarter to 2.
You know what’s possibly more stressful than worrying if you’re about to find out your small child has some life altering condition? Spending over an hour in the tiniest waiting room ever with a three-year old and a five-year old, right over the three-year old’s nap time, and directly opposite another family that included a tantruming toddler and his tantrum provoking older brother.
I could have thrown myself on the floor in frustration a couple of times.
When we finally got seen we were all over it. Ava had gone past tired to over stimulated and was calling out all the pictures before Bailey could even look at them. “It’s a bird! It’s a flower! It’s a puppy dog!” Bailey himself was nervous and not really keen on the whole thing, which then turned into over helpfulness after some gentle encouragement.
“I can see a truck!
It’s still a truck.
I can still see the truck.
Still a truck.
It’s still a truck.”
Yep buddy, we got that. You could see the truck 🙂
There were photographs taken, drops administered that involved me holding him down squealing whilst the doc squeezed them in, and some weird glasses things with holes in, which, amazingly, helped him see one out of the four pictures!
That was pretty amazing, until I started wondering if in fact he was fine and we were wasting everyone’s time over nothing.
No, not nothing.
After a good 45 minutes all up, the ophthalmologist, looking puzzled, said he doesn’t think this was sudden. Instead he’s pretty sure that since birth BJ has been extremely near sighted to the point that he can basically see nothing unless it’s right next to his face. Some thing I never would have guessed cause the kids is awesomely coordinated and has great depth perception.
He has referred us to a paediatric ophthalmologist who we see in February, but until then he has to wear glasses (or a monocle! No, not really 🙂 ) and a patch over the good eye to strengthen the not so good one. The main concern at the moment is that the left eye is not being used enough so is getting lazy and not developing as it should, so we need to get on to that as soon as we can so that it can get much better in the future.
It’s great to have an action plan, and know that it’s nothing really horrid, though I am fighting my mummy guilt at somehow feeling responsible. The idea that he has had it since birth makes me somehow think this is something I did which I know is stupid, but you get that. Or maybe I should have known earlier? But like Boatman says, you don’t usually walk around covering your kids eyes and asking if they can still see. We just have to take comfort that he said something when he did, and he is young enough to have a great shot at recovery.
We finished off yesterday buying magnums from Coles as a treat for great behaviour and braveness. He got to choose the flavour, and because he is BJ, he chose the box of pink ones, because even though it was his treat, ‘Ava likes pink.”
Trying not to well up in the ice-cream aisle, I told him to pick two boxes, cause kids like that should have all the ice-creams.
All the ice-creams and never anything bad ever happen to them ever.
All kids should get that.
Go buy your kids an ice cream. 🙂