eyesight, health, mommyhood, parenting, self-discovery

Eye Am Thankful

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So far the result of Full Speed’s surgery has been spectacular. It doesn’t seem real. I am having trouble imagining the possibility of much improved vision.

baby in glasses
Full Speed was first diagnosed with extreme myopia (which means he was off-the-charts nearsighted) when he was 20 months old. The subsequent journey and various doctor’s appointments from geneticists to surgeons has been a test of courage and faith. I have always held out hope in the back of my mind that his vision would be good (excellent even). I have prayed endlessly that he would have 20/20 vision. I have cried and then I have prayed some more. Eventually, I started to take my cues from Full Speed. He began eye-testing with letters when he was two years old. He handled every appointment (well, there were some deep in the heart of the terrible twos that I think I’ve blocked from memory) the best he could. As he matured, he came to respect doctors and followed their directions with ease. He is so comfortable in hospital/doctor office settings now it’s almost like doing anything else we might do during our day.

I also have learned to evaluate Full Speed’s condition based on his functioning. His functioning is awesome. He has mastered all his physical milestones and then some and is right on track intellectually. I began to realize that extreme myopia later diagnosed as ectopia lentis et pupillae with lens subluxation (dislocated lenses) looks pretty amazing if you ask me.

yellow belt kick

I had this strange moment when Full Speed was three years old and he was testing for his first Tae Kwon Do belt. As I sat in the testing room with family and friends I had this sort of out of body experience. I saw clearly for the first time that if all Full Speed was ever allowed was minimal vision, he was going to kick life in the ass and be a huge success. I learned a new prayer that day. The prayer was a thank you for the vision provided to my son for it is exactly what he needs to be who he is. That was the day I started to learn acceptance. I accepted his coke-bottle lenses whole heartedly (I mean come on, they are freakin’ adorable!). I accepted that regular eye check-ups (sometimes done under anesthesia) and doctor’s visits were a part of our lives. I accepted that while some of his eye care may be a challenge (patching his left eye on a daily basis), it’s just what we do.

Flash forward and here we are with another major eye surgery under our belts and on the cusp of much improved vision. I know whatever happens Full Speed will have exactly the amount of vision he needs to be whoever he will be (which is incredible in my slightly biased opinion). I will certainly be thankful if that is anywhere near 20/20 vision.

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health, humor, life in pictures, mommyhood, parenting

Well I Never!

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The surgery was a success. Full Speed’s right lense was removed and it went smoothly and quickly. We learn how much his vision has improved in the days and weeks to come. He handled everything beautifully.

Even though he was a champ, waking up from anesthesia was a bit of a challenge. The drugs can alter behavior and demeanor. That certainly was true for Full Speed.  Granted, he is a stubborn boy by nature, this took it one step farther.

He initially woke up yelling, “I WANT MY PATCH OFF OF MY FACE! I WANT THIS STUFF OFF MY ARM!” He wanted everything off from the patch to his IV immediately. He wanted to let the world know it, too. He looked at me with anger in his eyes and proceeded to successfully yank off his pulse/ox (a tiny contraption that is bandaged to your finger to measure your oxygen level). I managed to stop the yanking and pulling off of everything else, but the pulse/ox fell limp to the floor.

He yelled and yelled. He demanded and yelled some more. Mad Dog and I did our best to redirect. It only made him angrier.

I noticed (as Moms do) that it had been four hours since Full Speed had last used the facilities. The previous time he had emerged from surgery, he peed all over himself and all over me. Moms are pretty on top of things so I had extra clothes for him packed. For me I had nothing. I had to wear scrubs home. Of course Mad Dog thought that was kind of hot. I remember feeling exactly the opposite of hot in that moment.

I asked Full Speed, “Do you have to use the bathroom?”

“NO!” he responded.

“Do you want Mommy or Daddy to take you?” I said.

“I WANT NOBODY TO TAKE ME!”

“Sweetie, you need to use the bathroom….,” I say again. Before I finish my thought he shouts, “NO! I AM NOT GOING TO THE BATHROOM!”

Mad Dog tries to intervene. “Full Speed, you are going to the bathroom. Let’s go.”

He whips his head around and faces us both. He is clearly angry. “NEVER!”

He is never going to the bathroom again apparently. Someone find me some scrubs. Looks like I’m going to need them.

health, life in pictures, parenting

The Waiting Game

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Full Speed has been as brave as he possibly can be. The doctor told him that she was going to put music on in the OR so they could dance. He gave her a signature Full Speed smile (he thinks she’s cute).

Mad Dog and I are coping and getting along (sort of!). I held it together beautifully until they took Full Speed back to the OR. I almost completely lost it. I felt weepy, nauseous and just short of a panic attack.

Doing better now. We wait. That’s the only thing left to do.

health, humor, life in pictures, mommyhood, parenting, Uncategorized

Hey You Knucklehead!

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This post is going to be short and sweet. I am also posting it the night before Full Speed’s first surgery so that I can have one less thing to worry about as we prepare for this momentous day.

Overall, Full Speed was outstanding today. A kind friend of ours from Illinois had sent a care package a few weeks back (when we thought the first surgery would be) and I had saved a hotwheels car from it to get us through the pre-op day. It worked like a charm. That car went everywhere with us today from the doctor’s, to get our prescription and even to Tae Kwon Do.

Full Speed was a champ as we had to wait almost an hour and fifteen to meet with our doctor (who is completely worth the wait; impeccable skills and excellent beside manner). He was calm (mostly), followed directions with charm and made his Mommy very, very proud.

The only time we ran into an obstacle was when we were waiting for his eye drop prescription to be filled. Granted, the kid had been the model of good behavior all day, I can’t fault him that. I also did treat him to a candy bar so the sugar rush could have severely impeded his judgment. No one can be certain in hindsight.

He was playing with his new car and talking silly. The kind of silly talk that, taken out of context, can be considered rude. So the pharmacist says, “Next in line, please.” Full Speed  says loud enough for everyone in a ten foot radius, including the pharmacist, to hear, “Take that Knucklehead!” To the untrained observer, the pitch perfect timing lent everyone to believe he was referring to our pharmacist. I believe (and maybe it’s my own hard-core Mommy denial) that he was talking to his car. We can never be certain. The only thing I knew for certain is that I was mortified. The pharmacist was gracious and filled our prescription anyway. Looking back, it was actually kind of funny but I’m not knuckle-headed enough to ever admit that to Full Speed.

Say a prayer for good vision for my little guy. And thanks for your continued interest and support. Leave a comment if you can, I’d love to hear from you!

mommyhood, parenting

Spittin’ Mad

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JRI have to confess, this did not happen yesterday but the night before. When it happened, I already had my post completed, saved and had it ready to go for the next day. I didn’t realize I would have such a blog-worthy evening with Full Speed. Lucky, lucky me.

I mentioned that he was slightly out-of-control at the doctor’s for his physical and the subsequent activities that followed. It’s almost that he has forgotten that I am the one in charge. He is acting up and being very, very silly. I do enjoy silly as humor is the honey that gets you through life, but what he is doing is different. It feels class-clownish, disrespectful and spastic. I don’t like the overall vibe. I’m guessing he is feeling nervous about his impending surgeries and he is expressing it via goofy antics. Even though I know this intellectually, it doesn’t always sink in for me in the middle of one of his spastic attacks.

Mad Dog was with our handy-man getting to the bottom of our flooded garage (which is finished- I know, it’s a Florida thing). I took the boys upstairs to bathe them. Right off the bat Full Speed is running around naked jumping all over. He runs up to his brother, konks T.Puzzle on the head and darts away. Since I had already had more than my fill of this type of behavior, he is immediately and harshly punished. He’s not allowed to play in the bath and he is only in it for cleansing purposes. He does not get to wear his Daddy’s jersey to bed (Daddy’s jerseys are like the holy grail to Full Speed) and he has to wear baby pajamas instead.

Of course he loses it and screams and cries and says he’s sorry. He starts yelling “Mommy, I LOVE YOU!” in the most pathetic and dramatic way he can muster. I say, “That’s nice; you’re still going straight to bed.”

At this point he is out of the tub and realizes that sucking up to Mom is not going to work. So he goes the opposite direction (all the while running around completely nude) and shouts, “Mommy, I DO NOT like you. I DO NOT like you anymore.” At some point during this whole fiasco, he tries to spit at me. I can put up with a lot, spitting for some reason pushes my buttons beyond limits.

I manage to tackle him into submission and force a onesie on him. In T.Puzzle’s room I had managed to uncover this onesie that has Grumpy the dwarf on it. Both boys wore it when they were right around two years of age. It is clearly too small for Full Speed but I power it on him anyway to make my point. I can tell by now, he likes me even less than he initially thought. I pick out some too-small Cars pants and the lovely ensemble is complete. He looks like a mini-angry old man. It’s unintentionally funny. In the moment however, it is completely humorless.

He is boiling. I can almost see the steam coming from his ears. He tries again switching gears and goes the sweet route, “Mommy, I LOVE YOU! I’m SORRY!” His tone is now laced with desperation.

“I understand that Full Speed, you might have thought of that when you were making bad choices about your behavior. I appreciate it, but you are still going to bed and you are wearing what you are wearing.”

It’s on now. “Mommy, I DO NOT LIKE YOU!” he screams.

At this point, Mad Dog comes up and asks “What is going on up here?” He is curious to see the source of Full Speed’s bipolar state of mind.

He looks at Full Speed in his mighty-tighty pjs, looks at me (I’m guessing my expression said it all) and says, “You want me to put him to bed?”

Good call because I was spittin’ mad and I didn’t want to set a bad example.