Spectacles
noun: Eyeglasses
noun: Something Showy; exhibition
I shouldn't have been surprised to hear that Toby needed glasses. When it can go wrong with him, it typically does. We had been referred to ophthalmology after learning about his Growth Hormone Deficiency. His brain MRI showed no issues with his optic nerve, but his endocrinologist suggested we just take him to check things out - seeing as how its typical for buggers with his condition to have vision problems. Well, turns out he was right.
It's never a good sign when 3 minutes into your appointment, they ask if its "nap time". No, it's not, I counter - He just really doesn't like the doctor's office. It's weird how I can be in complete agreement and slightly offended at the same time. Our appointment began 30 minutes late at 1245, and started off poorly when the nurse made any slight attempt to shuffle things in front of his eyes - lending her to give up without getting much of any feedback. Toby, like a proud lion, strutted around the room pumped up with the thought that he had won. He had not. I held him down as they dropped dilating drops in each eye, and you would have though they were gouging each one out with a spoon. She politely tells me they sting a little. Thanks for the warning.
I tried to explain to him that we were here to get his eye's examined, and like your typical 2 year old's assessment of that conversation, he started sticking everything in his eyes - like the arm of the chair.....Makes sense.
After our brief stint in the room - we are escorted to the lobby to wait until the drops are in full effect. You can imagine the pleasantness that was my son, now waiting in the lobby for more good to come. I could not contain him - he was a demon child. He screamed, and cried, stomped and rolled. Drooling madness - He literally rammed himself against the wall, in a room full of people, and I just had to sit there, hold him, and awkwardly laugh, as best I could. With complete strangers, gawking at me. If I don't laugh, I'll cry.
My angel....
An hour later, we are called back. I am both furious and relieved simultaneously. A pleasant, petite doctor in a pencil skirt and dark black braids entered our room. In a thick African accent matching her name, she introduced herself, her resident and nurse, and immediately gushed that Toby had stolen her heart. I am softened a bit.
Heart breaker with long lashes......
She tried to examine him the nice way first, but after seeing quickly that it wasn't going to work, I gave the go ahead for me to hold and the nurse began washing her hands. After a few minutes of pinning his arms down and his eyes open, the doctor had all of the information she needed, and my sweaty son was released from his hold and collapsed on my shoulder.
Following a few minutes of entering data into the computer, graphs of eyes and charts with numbers, they share with me that Toby has astigmatism in both eyes and is farsighted. If you don't know what this means (I didn't either so don't worry) - Astigmatism means that the eye is not completely round (His are in the shape of footballs) and light can not refract correctly through the lens making seeing more difficult. Farsightedness means he can see things at a distance, but not close up. He needs glasses, she says, and he needs to wear them all the time. Even though I am not surprised, I am flustered and let down. I am sad and sorry, again. What more does this poor boy have to go through. If I don't laugh, I"ll cry.
Damn you and your gorgeous baby blue football shaped eyes!!
We left the office after 2 hours, and went home to sleep the next few hours away.
A Bull in a China Shop
With script in hand, we went to the optometrist's office to get fitted for our glasses yesterday. I think the ladies working inside may have thought this was a hidden camera show. What is that saying - A bull in a china shop?? - We can safely, alternately use a 2 year old in a glasses shop. We tried the most recommended pair - a rubbery bendy frame that secured behind his head like goggles. We couldn't wrap them around his head without a tantrum. (You see, Toby does NOT like things around his head. It's a sure bet that item is chucked far across the room). Toby thought the best way to respond was to Tazmainan devil (Yes, I've used it as a verb here as it was the only fitting one I could think of) around the store - slamming cabinet doors, reaching into displays and knocking them down, throwing frames left and right. My face was flushed with embarrassment and frustration.
We were somewhat successful with the next pair - a cute, flexible metal set that had small frames bending all the way around his ear. I couldn't get him to put them on correctly for any period of time - but he had them on crooked for a good few minutes - and that was befitting enough for me.
We jotted down the correct size of frames he needed, and were told they'd order a few more styles that might suit him, as they didn't have every kind available for us in that store. We go back in a few days to see the other samples, and make our final choice. I'm sure the two older women working in the hushed, peaceful shop looked at each other and said - "Not It!!" as we left with our next appointment time scribbled on our reminder card. If I don't laugh, I'll cry.
Lyla had to try on a few styles herself!!
That day, we decided for the first time since Toby has had his Celiac diagnoses, to take him out with us to eat lunch. It's been 3 months since he's been to a restaurant.
We had packed a good assortment for him to nibble on, but I decided to give him a potato chip at the restaurant. Naturally, potato chips are gluten free, but sometimes certain seasoning isn't - or the way they prepare them. We took our chances, and we paid for it. A few hours later, he was throwing up. I feel guilty and letdown. If I don't laugh, I'll cry.
Even though we have another hurdle to jump, Toby is still growing and is still your typical, merry 2 year old. He amazes me each day, with new sentences, and abilities. His love for his sister, growing each day - as he learns what love brotherly love is, he learns new ways to exhibit it. Like snuggling and hand holding (in between headbutts and toy stealing).
I've had time to digest the news that he needs to wear glasses all the time, and I've let it sink in and melt. At first, I'll admit, I was worried for the wrong reasons. My son is half the size he should be and now, lets add another motive for kids to target their ridicule at. Why are the things that adults find most endearing about littles the same ones that cause them to be victims of bullies? Why shouldn't I be happy with a diagnosis that he may grow out of? That we found it early and they make something to help him see? .... that it isn't worse!? Why do our minds ALWAYS go to the ugliest places? As a reminder - that things CAN be worse - and you should be thanking your lucky stars and laughing about it - because if you're not, you're most certainly going to cry.
Thank you for listening,
Lindsey
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