Tired

Took Rojo to the eye doctor yesterday morning for his yearly exam. Used to go every three months. Used to put drops in the good eye every single day of a squirming, screaming, little boy since he wouldn't tolerate a patch, and his bad eye was bad, and we were all about strengthening the bad eye before the window of opportunity closed. Used to be the appointments were pure torture, he'd have to get dilated, it would take three of us to hold him down for that. Used to take two hours for the appointment what with all the waiting room, dilation, waiting room, exam by the assistant, exam by the doctor, etc. Brutal.

Now we whisk in, sit briefly in the waiting room amongst all the other parents at the beginning of this journey, holding their small children on their laps, and bracing themselves for what's to come. And come. And come.

We were at the doctor's less than 30 minutes total yesterday - no dilation, he can accurately tell you what he can and cannot see, and we're out of there - usually with a new Rx that's slightly but not significantly different. "Normal change in vision."

The doctor looked through Rojo's big, fat file and said, "Wow, I've been seeing Rojo for 10 years, and he's been coming to this office for thirteen (his first doctor retired) hard to believe," she said.

"Not for me," I said. "When he first came here he didn't know his letters, the doctor gave me pictures of things like a birthday cake, a ball, and an airplane. She wanted me to practice with him at home, so he could give them a better idea of what he was seeing. I blew up the pictures, mounted them on card stock and then laminated them. They were giant flash cards I used to drill him with so he could come and take his eye exam."

When STM asked about Rojo's eye doctor appointment, I told him the whole story about how much used to go into each visit, how often we had to go, how far we've come. "No wonder we're tired," he said.

"No wonder," I said.