Dr. No No No No No

T had his follow-up eye exam today. His first eye exam came when he was several months old and I noticed a couple ever-present white specks in his pupil. The pediatric ophthalmologist identified the white specks as a pupillary membrane, which most likely will not effect his vision in any way. During that exam, however, the doctor also noticed that T was quite far-sighted in just his right eye. Many infants grow out of far-sightedness, so today's exam was to see if the vision in his right eye had become more evenly balanced with his left.

It was explained to me that if such an imbalance were allowed to continue, he could, over time, develop a lazy eye. And that if the doctor found the vision in T's eyes to still be drastically imbalanced today, T would have to wear an eye patch over his good eye to train the weaker eye to be stronger. My stomach sank when I heard this -- and yet, it did make coming up with a Halloween costume for T suddenly very easy. Arrr, me hearty!

It was important that the doctor be able to make a good assessment of T's vision. Despite the fact that T has been a MAJOR crab-apple these past few days, that he's cutting two teeth that have bugging him for over a month now, that he has recently begun to explore the joys and power that come with protesting (i.e. his new favorite word is "no")... somehow, despite all this, I needed to get T to cooperate for the exam.

The first person to examine him was a wonderful lady. She charmed the socks off of him, and he responded by telling her what letters he saw up on the wall. Then came those dilating eye drops. Whoo boy, that set him off! From that moment on he was thoroughly ticked off and wanting to go home.

The second person to examine him was a young doctor "in training" with zero personality. He had neither the experience nor the creativity to get T to cooperate. And the doc's blasé demeanor evaporated what little remaining interest T may have had in being there. The doc soon gave up and decided to wait for the specialist to do the exam.

The third person was the pediatric specialist. As he approached us, T shot out a very long and mean glare from under his furrowed brow. When the doctor was not daunted by T's ferocious stare, more drastic measures were needed. T's whole little body hopped into action -- legs kicking, arms swinging, hands pushing, butt wiggling, eyes squinted, face purple. T also screamed, "No no no no no!" just to make sure we didn't misunderstand him.

I felt so bad for my little guy, but we needed the doctor to get a good look inside T's eyes. So, with T in my lap, I held down his legs and arms, the doc-in-training held T's head steady, and the specialist pried T's eyelids open to look inside. The specialist only had, at most, a four-second window to peek into each pupil. My stomach sank again. How were we going to get an accurate examination when T's so miserable?

Fortunately we were dealing with a specialist. In just those few seconds, he was able to see that T's far-sightedness on the right has improved dramatically. T doesn't need an eye patch, and we won't need to have T's eyes examined for two more years. By then, T will understand things better and not be so confused and scared.

Now T is back to his new "normal" level of crabbiness (what, with nearing the age of 2 and cutting teeth, and all). And my stomach is back where it belongs. Still... I think T will sleep fast and deep tonight, and I think I'll have more than a few drinks once the kids are in bed!