gilliam-esque clamps
through with twelve monkeys visits
done with eye doctor
Today was another visit to the dreaded eye doctor. As soon as the doctor took Ike-a-saurus from me, I snatched him back, grabbed the wee-er one, and high-tailed it out of there. We ran down 38th street searching for a bus to take to Anywhere But Here.
Not really.
But that's what I thought about.
Spoons, screaming… all of that happened again. It was really not fun again. Ike scream-cried and kicked this time, even worse than before. Night.Mare.
It's done though. His eyes do not have ROP. They will not have ROP. He might be a little far-sighted and there is a chance he could have a cross-eyed thing that would need to be corrected (that's common with preemies, I'm told). But we're done with the spoons and the doctor's steampunk light-up headset of eyeball torture.
Thank God.
