Bespectacled
It started out a few months ago as small, passing complaints about things being blurry. Squinting to see the time on the microwave in the kitchen. Insisting on sitting close to the TV to be able to make out scores of games.
It's no surprise, really. Brandon is blind as a bat, and I'm not far behind, plus apparently my eye issues are multiplying as I age.
Trey, in very typical Trey fashion, was scared to go to the eye doctor.
Trey: What happens at the eye doctor?
Mama: Well, they will have you to read these letters that are different sizes, and that will show them how strong the lenses of your glasses need to be. There is a machine you will look through so they can figure out exactly how you see, and they will make small changes to the lenses and ask you which one looks better, so you'll need to tell them the truth. Oh, and then there is this machine the doctor can use to look inside your eye. Pretty cool. Oh, but they will need to put drops in your eyes before that.
Trey: (meltdown beginning) I'm never going to the eye doctor!
Several weeks pass.
Trey: Mama, what does getting an eye drop feel like?
Mama: Like water getting in your eyes. It doesn't really hurt, it just surprises you and feels uncomfortable for a second.
Trey: Do you have eye drops?
Mama: Yes.
Trey: Could I try one?
Mama: Sure. You'll be able to see that it's not a big deal.
Trey: OK, but not right now. I'll tell you when I'm ready.
Another week passes.
Trey: Let's try an eye drop now.
Mama: OK, lay down and I'll get the drops.
Trey: (as I return with the drops) I'm scared so I'm just going to keep my eyes closed while you do this.
Mama: Babe, you have to keep your eye open.
I held his eyelid open and dropped a drop in his eye. He flinched and let out a half-shout, squeezing his eyes shut for a few seconds, then opening them.
Trey: My eye is still wet but that wasn't too bad.
Mama: So can I call the eye doctor now?
Trey: Yes.
The appointment was made, we talked through the procedure a lot, and practiced the eye drops a few more times. Setting off together just the two of us, I did my best to encourage Trey not to pull a Trey in the doctor's office, and to warn him about the plethora of choices of frames that would be available, and that he would need to make a decision in a decent amount of time. Not his strongest area.
He clung to my side in the waiting room, this boy who not so long ago was my baby. Who I argue with far too often and expect way too much of. Who delights and frustrates me daily, and who I love with every ounce of my being. Who is starting to pull away and gravitate more to his friends, telling me I embarrass him, but who still (in the confines of home) will give me a long snuggly hug.
In that moment of his uncertainty, he needed me. And I soaked it up.
The appointment went as expected, and Trey seemed thankful to have memorized the procedure I had given him, though occasionally he would look at me for affirmation. He had fun with the nurse who had him to read the letters. He couldn't read the first set she showed him, and she said she would make the letters bigger and that he should tell her when he could read them. She got all the way to one single, giant letter on the screen and said, "You can't read that?!"
"Yeah, I can!"
We all laughed and she started reducing the size of the letters until Trey couldn't read them anymore. She adjusted the lenses on the machine and said, "Let's try this," moving it in front of Trey's eyes.
Trey shouted, and I mean outdoor-voice shouted, "This is great!"
And we laughed again. Bless his heart, then and ever since he got his glasses, this boy has been overjoyed just to be able to see clearly.
The eye drops went OK, and he was fascinated by his dilated pupils.
Then came the frame decision. He quickly decided that he wanted a little bit of color and that he liked rectangles best. The most time-consuming part was choosing between plastic and metal frames. He ended up going with plastic because they didn't have the little nose pieces. Faced with the choice between two similar styles, he chose these with a brown tint to them. And they look so great on him.
Taking handsome to a new level. A new, more sophisticated and decidedly more grown-up level.
Trey was worried about his first day wearing them to school. Gave us a chance to not only try and give him a way to deal with being made fun of, but to show him that the opinions of other people do not change who God made him to be. Everything ended up going fine at school, and he is now able to see everything he needs to see in his classroom.
More lessons are still being learned about responsibility and keeping up with his stuff. Another of Trey's weaker areas. "On your face or in the case," our reminder for caring for such a fragile and expensive possession. So far, so good there.
My baby is growing up. Fast.
It's no surprise, really. Brandon is blind as a bat, and I'm not far behind, plus apparently my eye issues are multiplying as I age.
Trey, in very typical Trey fashion, was scared to go to the eye doctor.
Trey: What happens at the eye doctor?
Mama: Well, they will have you to read these letters that are different sizes, and that will show them how strong the lenses of your glasses need to be. There is a machine you will look through so they can figure out exactly how you see, and they will make small changes to the lenses and ask you which one looks better, so you'll need to tell them the truth. Oh, and then there is this machine the doctor can use to look inside your eye. Pretty cool. Oh, but they will need to put drops in your eyes before that.
Trey: (meltdown beginning) I'm never going to the eye doctor!
Several weeks pass.
Trey: Mama, what does getting an eye drop feel like?
Mama: Like water getting in your eyes. It doesn't really hurt, it just surprises you and feels uncomfortable for a second.
Trey: Do you have eye drops?
Mama: Yes.
Trey: Could I try one?
Mama: Sure. You'll be able to see that it's not a big deal.
Trey: OK, but not right now. I'll tell you when I'm ready.
Another week passes.
Trey: Let's try an eye drop now.
Mama: OK, lay down and I'll get the drops.
Trey: (as I return with the drops) I'm scared so I'm just going to keep my eyes closed while you do this.
Mama: Babe, you have to keep your eye open.
I held his eyelid open and dropped a drop in his eye. He flinched and let out a half-shout, squeezing his eyes shut for a few seconds, then opening them.
Trey: My eye is still wet but that wasn't too bad.
Mama: So can I call the eye doctor now?
Trey: Yes.
The appointment was made, we talked through the procedure a lot, and practiced the eye drops a few more times. Setting off together just the two of us, I did my best to encourage Trey not to pull a Trey in the doctor's office, and to warn him about the plethora of choices of frames that would be available, and that he would need to make a decision in a decent amount of time. Not his strongest area.
He clung to my side in the waiting room, this boy who not so long ago was my baby. Who I argue with far too often and expect way too much of. Who delights and frustrates me daily, and who I love with every ounce of my being. Who is starting to pull away and gravitate more to his friends, telling me I embarrass him, but who still (in the confines of home) will give me a long snuggly hug.
In that moment of his uncertainty, he needed me. And I soaked it up.
The appointment went as expected, and Trey seemed thankful to have memorized the procedure I had given him, though occasionally he would look at me for affirmation. He had fun with the nurse who had him to read the letters. He couldn't read the first set she showed him, and she said she would make the letters bigger and that he should tell her when he could read them. She got all the way to one single, giant letter on the screen and said, "You can't read that?!"
"Yeah, I can!"
We all laughed and she started reducing the size of the letters until Trey couldn't read them anymore. She adjusted the lenses on the machine and said, "Let's try this," moving it in front of Trey's eyes.
Trey shouted, and I mean outdoor-voice shouted, "This is great!"
And we laughed again. Bless his heart, then and ever since he got his glasses, this boy has been overjoyed just to be able to see clearly.
The eye drops went OK, and he was fascinated by his dilated pupils.
Then came the frame decision. He quickly decided that he wanted a little bit of color and that he liked rectangles best. The most time-consuming part was choosing between plastic and metal frames. He ended up going with plastic because they didn't have the little nose pieces. Faced with the choice between two similar styles, he chose these with a brown tint to them. And they look so great on him.
Taking handsome to a new level. A new, more sophisticated and decidedly more grown-up level.
Trey was worried about his first day wearing them to school. Gave us a chance to not only try and give him a way to deal with being made fun of, but to show him that the opinions of other people do not change who God made him to be. Everything ended up going fine at school, and he is now able to see everything he needs to see in his classroom.
More lessons are still being learned about responsibility and keeping up with his stuff. Another of Trey's weaker areas. "On your face or in the case," our reminder for caring for such a fragile and expensive possession. So far, so good there.
My baby is growing up. Fast.
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