Eye Splinter

After daycare last night, Eddie and I had a quick leftover pizza dinner at the house. Then we were off to the park so he could ride his "bikacull" for a while. He also played on the playground with a bunch of other kids. Around 7:30pm I convinced him to ride his bike back home so we could have a vitamin (he loves them).

We were both filthy--covered in grass, dirt, and bits of tan bark from the playground. I was wearing a tank top, flipflops, and my paint-spattered exercise shorts because it was too hot to keep my jeans on from school that day.

I pulled his shirt off of him when he was standing in the kitchen, despite his protests that he wasn't ready for a bath and to get naked. He immediately started screaming intensely--that blood curdling type of scream that means pain. I turned him around and he kept saying "Eye HURT! Eye HURT! Owie!" I tried to keep him from rubbing his eye too much and I pried it open as best I could to get a better look. There was a big piece of bark in his eye, right in the middle (like 2-3mm in diameter). It was a flat flake of wood. I blew on his eye to make him blink, but it didn't budge. So I pried it open again and tried to "dab" it off with my finger tip. No luck. Then I laid him down on the kitchen counter, filled a cup with water, pried it open again, and flushed his eye several times. He was NOT HAPPY. Still, it wouldn't budge. I sat him up and tried to call our neighbor to see if she could come over and help me wrangle him so I could try to flush it better or use a Q-tip to dab it off. But she wasn't answering her cell or landline. By this point Eddie was so sad and in pain that there wasn't much I could do to prevent him from rubbing his eye.

So I grabbed him, my keys and phone, and hopped into the car. I couldn't find my wallet anywhere (still can't). On our way to the hospital I called urgent care to ask if he should go there or to the ER. The lady said ER since he was so young.

We were seen by the triage nurse right away, who kept commenting on how smart Eddie is--he was a chatterbox through his fussing, pointing out all the colors he saw and asking her repeatedly, "What doing with that?" Ah, what a sweetie he is!

If you click on the image below you'll see a tan colored thing in his eye:

Eventually we were told to wait on a hallway hospital bed for the doctor to come. Eddie wanted to get down and run around, but I wouldn't let him because he didn't have shoes (or a shirt!) on and hospital floors can be icky. He was surprisingly well behaved on that little bed, all things considered. Here you can see his collection of "bam-aids" as he calls bandages. He doesn't have that many owies but insists on wearing at least 2-3 at all times.

In the meantime a couple of nurses came by to have a look and they agreed that they needed the doctor to figure out how to retrieve it. And, of course, by the time the doctor got to us the thing was gone.

The doctor looked in Eddie's eye and looked confused. "Is this splinter big enough that you can see it? Where is it exactly?" And wouldn't you know, it had finally come loose. I thought he was going to say, "No problem, you can go home." But he wanted to dye the eye ball to check for scratches. There is a scratch, but the doctor said it isn't a big deal and he'd just require some antibiotic eye drops for a few days, just in case.

Of course, I have no one at home to help me wrestle Eddie to the floor to put the drops in...nor do I have the wherewithal to remember to bring the drops to daycare this morning to have Cassie help me. Sheesh. And I still can't find my dang wallet.

Stuff at school and at home is all over the place: broken instrument pieces that have to be freight shipped to Pennsylvania to be repaired, research plans to be finalized with my professor who is leaving for China for a whole month, broken dishwasher for which I need to drive to Sacramento to by a replacement part (it SUCKS not having a dishwasher and having a toddler who insists on "helping" to "wash disses" with you), four loads of laundry I need to fold...and did I mention that I can't find my wallet?

We are heading up to Gualala tomorrow for a long weekend of honey harvesting, apple pressing, SLEEPING IN, and hanging out with Edward and Jennifer. I can't wait to get there. Oh...but first I also have to pack the car full of our stuff and lock Taters in his crate in the back of the van so he won't try to climb into the small space under my feet while I'm driving (you know that space...where the pedals are?).

I thought life was supposed to be easier and less stressful once my QE was over...didn't I read that somewhere?