Today's visit was to the ophthalmologist. This one won't hurt a bit, I told Mark, as we walked into the crowded waiting room. No blood, no shots, just read the letters off the chart and we'll be outta here quickly.
Wellllll, then again, maybe not. I forgot about the pupil dilation part. Mark laid on a bench very cooperatively while the nurse poured liquid nitrogen into his eyes. OK, maybe it wasn't really liquid nitrogen, but that's what it sounded like when the poor kid started screaming. "It stings, it STINGS!" he yelled, and my heart immediately broke in two. I held his hand, and his leg, and then, when the comforting didn't work, I just held him down so the nurse could get the dang drops in his eyes and be done with it. Because of his reaction, she only gave him one set of drops instead of two.
I lead him, whimpering, quivering and wiping tears away, into the waiting room. The whole room was silent, and all the little kids stared at Mark fearfully. They wondered what the nurse had done to him, and if it involved the phrase "stick a needle in your eye." I swear, the next kid almost burst into tears when they called his name!
But at the end, Mark's pupils finally cooperated and dilated. The doctor declared his eyes healthy, and handed us a little black pair of sunglasses for Mark to wear home. I was expecting an immediate refusal, so I said, "Hey, you can pretend like you're blind, and I'll lead you around!" (I know, I know--not politcally correct, but we were in crisis mode here.) He closed his eyes as I lead him out the building and to the parking lot, but I made him open them to climb the staircase.
And of course, once we got home, he pulled out a white "cane" and a cup to beg for money.
So I guess the appointment wasn't a total bust...
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