It Never Rains but it Pours

    We accomplished all our our goals for this Saturday’s workday here with friends; the final paint touch ups were done, the furniture was assembled, the boxes were cut up for recycling, the crumbcake turned out yummy as did the stromboli, fruit, cheese and pizza.  But it all seemed to happen at once.
    At 11:30 M and B were playing with a large box, when M explosively emerged, connecting with B’s eye.  By 12 :00 I looked up the symptoms for when you should seek medical attention, and arranged to take B to the ER, just as the IKEA shipment arrived, and several of our friends did to.  I left M in the competent care of DH, and our friend Karen, and grabbed "The History of the World" to have something to read to B  in the waiting room, most of our other books were buried in boxes.
    We only spent a total of 2 hours in the ER, they really move fast with eyes.  The triage nurse got so excited about our homeschooling status, she started the "how do you get started in Massachusetts after all, I might be interested in this…" conversation.  I was thinking, I should give her my e-mail, is this really the time?  But I gave my standard, "It’s not that hard, the Attleboro library has many resources and so does the internet." response.  After all, she sees moms and hurt kids all the time, it must seem normal to her.
    I was beginning to look for a spot we could sit and not see the s*xy dancing on the cable TV, when B said, "This movie is so boring.  What happened next at the siege of Constantinople?"  Thank you Susan Wise Bauer!
    Once we were moved into the eye care section, B really got nervous.  All that equipment looked like Dr Frankenstein’s lair.  They also asked him to lie down, which got the light into his eye uncomfortably.  He was compulsively pressing the tea towel I’d wrapped the ice cubes in, which was now sort of damp, warm and smelly (It wasn’t the cleanest tea towel, it was the tea towel on top of the towels hanging on the refrigerator door knob.)  Then we met the Doctor.
    When he took the piece of styrofoam out of my pupil a year ago, he was much friendlier, maybe he is a night person.  I was not impressed with his bedside manor with B, nor with my advocasy for him.  I was grumpy at B for freaking out, grumpy at the doctor for being impatient with B, and trying to use teenager slang as if that made everything better and more understandable, and angry with myself for not being able to sooth B, communicate with the doctor, or make everything better right away.  I also wish that all physicians  everywhere would strike the phrase "This won’t hurt." from their lexicons., especially eye specialists.  Honestly, when it comes to eyes, everything is so weird and scary that the nerves alone make it hurt!  And no one believes a doctor who says it won’t, so it’s a waste of breath.
    I also wish I’d asked the doctor to show B with a mirror how the dye made his eye glow yellow under the black light.  The coolness factor might have helped.  So, he has a scratch on his cornea, which means thrice daily antibiotic ointment applications.  In the eye.  Has B been hyperventilating?  Wiggling?  Actually no.
    I taught him some breathing stuff from old birthing classes (they didn’t make me take one this time for this coming baby) we have a procedure we go over before we do it, B tells me when he is mentally prepared, and in goes the ointment.  We are very professional.  
    When we got back to the house, it turned out that most of the furniture would not fit where we’d thought it would.  Make that where I’d measured it would.  After feeling stupid for a few minutes, they showed me the new arrangement they’d thought of, and it was beautiful.
    So, we are thankful B’s eye doesn’t hurt today, for the competent and quick (if grouchy) care he received, for our ten volunteers who helped us these last 9 days in the room move, for the lovely sunny room, and for the provision that made it all possible.
    I’m uploading pictures right now, I’ll make another entry this afternoon.