eyesight, health, life in pictures, parenting, terrible twos

Margaritaville

WFAM

walk at the mall part twoWe went back to the outdoor mall to go on the notorious train. It was actually my idea. I know it’s shocking. Since Full Speed’s surgery we are limited to what we can do for outings. We want to avoid communal play areas because they are breeding grounds for bacteria and he isn’t allowed to jump and run as it may jeopardize the stability of his retina. A train ride seemed to be a contained and calm option. Because I was choosing to do it for Full Speed’s sake, I embraced it fully. The strangest thing happened; we ended up having a fantastic time.

We arrived before the train rides began and made our way down to a Mexican restaurant with outdoor seating. The boys were well-behaved and the food was the best Mexican food I have ever ingested (I may have been slightly biased by the additional best margarita I’ve ever ingested but who knows?).

After lunch we make our way to the train (it went so much more smoothly now that we actually know its point of origin). On our way there we randomly run into the boys’ eye doctor. She spots us immediately (we are hard to miss with one kid in a taped on shield and another in glasses) and we chit-chat for a moment or two. She comments on the train (T.Puzzle at this point is jumping all over yelling, “Choo! Choo!”) and that she had never seen it before. The way she references it reminds me of a person who is at a mall to actually shop or meet with other adults for adult conversation. I vaguely remember what that used to be like (again, my memory is a bit fuzzed at the edges as I am still walking off my delicious margarita).

walk at the mall

We say our goodbyes and go our separate ways. The boys get along marvelously during the ride and Mad Dog and I are peacefully coexisting. It was virtually pain-free. The boys are doing so well they actually hold each other’s hands for a while without fighting. We reward them by going to the train table at the bookstore. We are having a perfect outing. There are a plethora of engines to choose from, no one else is utilizing the table and T.Puzzle and Full Speed have cooperatively constructed a train made of four cars. They are pushing this train in nonviolent unity. Mad Dog and I sort of forget the time and let them play at length.

We end up pushing T.Puzzle’s naptime. Even though he doesn’t always nap, some days he absolutely needs one. Today was one of those days. He does not handle the news well that it is time to leave the train table. I have to take him outside and place him in time-out. It doesn’t help that he is undeniably cute and that every passer-by stops to say ‘hi’ or comment on how sweet he is. He loves the limelight. He refuses to apologize to me which is standard procedure to get out of jail (you know the Supernanny credo and all). Mad Dog has to manhandle T.Puzzle to get him to comply and he slumps against Mad Dog’s chest in defeat.

He rallies for the ride home but it all hits the fan again when we pull in the drive-way. He refuses to enter the house. Instead, he books it as fast as he can down towards the street. Mad Dog and I collectively had to drop the hammer. Mad Dog brings him in, takes off T.Puzzle’s socks and crocs (he is steadfastly attached to both these entities) and takes away his Lightning McQueen car.

I swoop in and carry his screaming self up to his room. He wails and flails about during his diaper change. I place him in his crib and remove anything else he is attached to. He has no blankets or stuffed animals to speak of. All he has is his pillow and his thoughts as I shut the door behind me.

He tantrums on for about thirty or so minutes and finally gives into the surrender of sleep. We are thankful for the interlude of quiet. It doesn’t last long. Maybe forty or so minutes pass and we can hear him begin to whimper on the monitor. We bring him downstairs and he tries futilely to put his socks and crocs back on. We are allowing him to have them back but we are not helping him put them on. He is feeling wholly misunderstood.

His suitcase is still out by the front door from the night he spent at Grandma’s and Grandpa’s while we were getting Full Speed ready for surgery. He grabs his suitcase, leans against the door and pleads, “I go to Grandpa/Grandpa’s house (he calls Grandma, Grandpa for some reason)!”

If I had my way, he already would have been packed and gone.

I know that seems harsh but believe me, our evening with T.Puzzle did not get any easier. Does it ever get easier? Please, if you are a Mom, don’t tell me your answer. Denial and margaritas are the only things keeping me sane (slightly).

eyesight, health, parenting, surgery

Ladies’ Man

WFAM

Our doctor graciously agreed to perform Full Speed’s second surgery on a Friday. This meant that she would have to meet us at the Children’s Clinic on a Saturday for a follow-up. Since the clinic is technically closed on Saturday, we had to have the security guard let us in, the lights were out in the building and we had to go in a back way through a maze of offices.

Full Speed’s follow-up was good. He struggled a little because his eye was sensitive to light as it is still dilated from all the drops from yesterday’s surgery. He was uncomfortable and that was obvious.

We are currently waiting for his new prescription to come in and hoping we get it sometime next week. To get him adequate vision to function in the meantime, the doctor put in an extended-wear contact in his right eye while he continues to wear a protective shield over his left. He struggled through the contact process. He fidgeted and would flinch almost every time the contact was nearly in place. We tried it with him seated, then lying down and then finally seated again. I marveled at how challenging it was for even the doctor to get a contact on him. How I managed to change them in and out when we tried them before is quite miraculous.

Eventually, the contact was in place and we were given clearance to go home. Before we left, the doctor hands us two spare contacts in case he loses the one in his right eye. Mad Dog and I are astonished at this. When Full Speed had contacts ordered before, we had to wait over a month for them to come in because they were so highly specialized. Once we had them, we were only allowed one pair so when we lost one, we were out of luck. With his new prescription, the Children’s Clinic came up with a contact for him in a day and gave us two spares no problem. It is surreal being in the world of the normal range prescription. We are so thankful.

As we go down the stairs to the parking lot, Full Speed holds the doc’s hand. They have hit it off tremendously and it seems like a perfectly natural gesture. As we pull out from the parking garage, Full Speed tells us again that the doctor is his girlfriend. He then goes on to list all of his lady friends. After the doctor it’s our babysitter, then two girls from his class and last but not least, his Mom. It’s an honor just being nominated really.

eyesight, health, loss of parent, mommyhood, surgery

The ‘Game Face’

WFAM

We are home after the surgery and we are thankful to be so. As evening approaches I make some popcorn and we head up to our family loft area to watch ‘The Fox and the Hound’. It feels good to be all snuggled together.

It was nice to sort of let the events of the day fade into the background. It’s exhausting constantly to have your ‘game face’ on for your children.

There was a moment when Full Speed was done with the surgery and Mad Dog and I were with him that I almost completely lost it. I was standing next to his metal crib watching him. He was still and peaceful. He was hooked up to an I.V. and all the other contraptions to monitor his vital signs and the tears started to pour down my cheeks.

I couldn’t fathom all this year has put us through. I thought back to when my Mom was diagnosed with stage IV pancreatic cancer and the dreadfulness that ensued. I remembered going through some of my own medical procedures and testing this summer (all relatively minor with positive results) and how physically and emotionally demanding that had all been on the heels of my Mom’s medical disaster. I thought of the countless trips to downtown Jacksonville to the Children’s Clinic as I tried to get Full Speed the best vision possible, failing miserably with contacts and Mad Dog and I making the scary decision to move forward with his last-ditch eye surgeries. I also tried to process some of the strangeness of my family dynamics with my Mom missing from its core.
p7232915

Feeling overwhelmed, I wanted to curl up in a tiny ball and cry. Instead, Full Speed woke up and he was awfully cantankerous shaking off the anesthesia and I had to get my ‘game face’ back on.

When do Mommies get their moments to lose it? I’ll let you know when I finally have mine.

eyesight, health, humor, life in pictures, parenting

Dying to Get Started

WFAM

We are in the pre-op prep room waiting for them to take Full Speed to the OR. He’s had what they call ‘happy juice’ to calm him and he is loopy. The nurse comes to check to make sure his left eye is correctly dotted. He is snuggled in the boat on wheels they use to transport the patients.

The nurse peers over the side and looks at his eye. “It’s dilating nicely,” she says.

Full Speed misunderstands her. “Am I dying?” he asks.

“No, no, sweetie. She said ‘dilate’ not ‘dying’,” I say.

He cracks up like it’s the silliest thing he’s ever heard. We all laugh and the tension in the room floats away in a humorous bubble. It feels good to smile when in such a serious setting.

Laughter truly is the best medicine. I know my Mom would have completely agreed.

eyesight, health, mommyhood

Eye Surgery: Take Two

WFAM

silly face twoWe are on the eve of the second surgery so I am posting this the night before. The process leading up to this has been much calmer since we know exactly what to expect. Full Speed is becoming a seasoned pro at eye drops and honestly that is half the battle. Poor guy is still getting two drops twice a day in his right eye. “The yellow one burns, Mommy,” he says each time we do them. We have progressed from long ago when I would have to straddle him to keep his arms locked in place and peel his eyelids back to get drops of any sort in. Now, he sits pleasantly on our counter, tilts his head back and I plop the drops in without incident. Maturity and growth are a beautiful thing. That is good because soon we will be starting with a series of drops for several weeks with his left eye.

The afternoon for Full Speed’s pre-op appointment ended up dragging on for over four hours before all was said and done. The doctor did her best to configure a most likely eyeglass prescription for Full Speed that she wanted us to get to an optometrist ASAP. This is her best guess until the completion of the second surgery and subsequent eyesight tests are done on Full Speed. It was already four in the afternoon. Full Speed and I booked it to the optometrist’s and made it (everything closes early in Florida). The staff marveled at his prescription’s gigantic leap from – 30 to +7.5. The ladies were in such a titter that they forgot to measure his head for his frames before we headed out the door (mistake!).

Full Speed was already done with his day. He had lost patience even when we were with our doctor (whom he adores and calls his ‘girlfriend’). He was tired of sitting and waiting. He had sat patiently (kind of) while we picked out new frames at the optometrist’s. I could sense he was on the edge of losing it. The reason he held it together is because he knew he was going to have another date at Applebee’s with his Mom. So we get the frames picked out and leave all the fussing eye-people behind and make the drive over to Applebee’s. No sooner did we walk in the door, my cell phone rings. They need us to come back to get the forgotten measurements.

You should have seen the dark cloud that descended on Full Speed’s face. He was NOT happy. We head back and get the measurements needed but he is aloof with the fawning staff and at times, down-right rude (I completely understood because it was almost six o’clock at this point). Before we leave for the second time I pointedly ask, “Do you have everything you need? Because if you don’t and we have to come back, I don’t know what that will do to Full Speed.”

They assured me all was complete. We finally get to Applebee’s, have our table and drinks, and our orders were in. It had been such a long afternoon and a long time since a potty-break, so we left our drinks and headed to the bathroom. When we return to our table our drinks are gone. They bussed our table and we hadn’t even consumed anything. Not even a drop of our beverages. It doesn’t help that our waiter is a good ten years younger than me, brings me the wrong order and has to keep saying ‘sorry ma’am’ over and over. I felt like I was one-hundred and twenty seven years old!

Eventually Full Speed and I went on to have a lovely date. He even told me that he looked forward to it all day. “I couldn’t wait to have a date with my favorite woman in the whole world. You, Mommy.” I’m quoting him exactly. That’s worth all the ‘sorry ma’ams’ in the world.
bathtime

It is now close to bedtime and I just gave Full Speed his last allowed food until the surgery is complete. He picked Oreos. I would have let him have pretty much anything he wanted. T.Puzzle is at Grandma and Grandpa’s so all is quiet. Full Speed is playing with cars and we are waiting for Mad Dog to get home (I said Full Speed could wait up for him if he was good and let’s face it, after all the nonsense today, he earned it).

I’m going to bed tonight with many prayers of thanks in my heart. I am thankful for the excellent medical care that we have access to and the hopeful certainty Full Speed will come through the other side of surgery with much improved vision in his left eye. I thank my loyal readers for their support that continues to inspire me. Most of all, I thank God (or whoever may be out there) for giving me an amazingly spirited, gift of a child (and a spare to boot). Good night!