Big, scary words.

Yesterday I learnt some medical words that I didn't know,

in spite of my veterinary background.

I sat and listened as a specialist threw words like amblyopia

and intermittent exotropia at me.

Big, scary words that parents don't want to have to think about.

We consider ourselves blessed to have 3 healthy children.

Aside from the usual upset tummies, snotty noses and sneezes,

plus a few extras...

corneal ulcers due to a toothbrush in the eye,

corneal ulcers due to falling into a wet cement puddle,

corneal ulcers due to a foreign body,

corneal ulcers due to toddler's finger nails in daddy's eye

(yeah, pick the pattern)...

we haven't had too much to stress about.

The fractured skull from our 2 year old hitting his head

and the possible metal ball intestinal obstruction

have probably been our biggest blips on the radar to date.

(But here I am going to touch wood and not say the things that we haven't had to deal with

because I know that is just tempting fate)

So yesterday was a bit of a jolt.

The gist is that our youngest has a wandering eye

and has lost some of her vision in that eye.

When eyes wander in children,

apparently their brains decide that it is all too hard

and give up a bit on that eye.

The treatment plan is to give that eye a chance to lift its game

and get back to doing what it is meant to do

by giving the good eye a handicap (drops, patches etc)

Though her loss of vision isn't severe,

she is in the unlucky 15% of children that has had some sight loss with this condition

and we are now crossing our fingers and toes

that she isn't in the 15% of children who don't respond to treatment.

She was rather excited to think that she might have gotten to wear glasses,

with that naive enthusiasm that 4 year olds

can have about many, many things in life.

(Like flying in planes because they never, ever crash.
and like thinking that the precious 50c piece in her piggy bank is actually $50.)

Luckily at this stage she doesn't have her mummy's hideous rely-on-contact-lenses-or-glasses-24/7-

or-else-run-into-that-500-ton- meteorite-sitting-2-metres-in-front-of-you vision.

I was calm and matter of fact about the whole visit and its outcome

until I was lying in bed last night and start doing the parent thing.

The What If thing.

What if?

What if she doesn't recover her vision?

What if her vision gets worse?

I know as far as childhood illness or injury goes,

this is not as devastating nor as debilitating as most

and there is a more than good chance of recovery.

But it has made me think about those parents, the many friends and associates that I have,

in the real world and on-line,

who are dealing with difficulties each and every day.

Some minor; some more major; some life changing.
Some with no end in sight and no solutions.
Some that tear at a parent's heart.

Most just get on with it without complaint.

As a parent, you just do what you have to do.

You  are prepared to do whatever it takes to keep your precious little ones safe and well and happy.

When a hug and kiss wont do it, you take a deep breath, maybe have a little cry
and then you step up.

It's just the fundamental principal of being someone's mother or father.

We hope that the next few months will bring positive results.

But in the meantime,
I have had a timely reminder to know how lucky Mr Boozle and I are as parents
and to remember what an amazing capacity these little human beings
have to help us find our strength, our ability to commit whatever it takes to help them
and, of course, our unconditional love.