So the idea of having a regular 'Friday' post about what we did in the 100 acre wood sounded like a good idea to me a few weeks ago. Easy, sometimes funny and since our Fridays were for a while crammed with interesting trips around London and elsewhere, perhaps more interesting than the usual run of our days. Well this was all well and good until yesterday when after a morning to lunch playdate, Charlie went to sleep and woke up with eyes that, were they on a hungover redneck, would be described as 'two pissholes in the snow'.
We have a new doctor at the local surgery and he's very good. The problem is that he has the bedside manner of a house fly. On Wednesday evening the spud had a suspiciously sticky eye and by 2am was waking up complaining that 'eye hurt!' By 4am he had a balloon with lashes on the left hand side of his face and in the morning I needed a crowbar to get it open. Off he went with Daddy to Dr. Fly who in under 30 seconds had buzzed over, probed, declared it a scratched eyeball and whisked the pair of them out with a tube of cream and some barely decipherable instructions to wash the goo out of his eyes and apply the cream.
Apart from a general sense of being cheated out of some sympathy we were relieved as this meant no conjunctivitis and the resulting quarantine. So, on Friday when he woke up with both eyes in trouble I went steaming back into the surgery without an appointment, all Righteous Mother, demanding a re-match. The second doctor looked at both eyes and declared - two scratched eyeballs, or 'some other' irritation. Use the cream and wash his eyeballs with salt water if they get gooey.
I have twice in my life scratched my eyeballs and imagine therefore that it's not that easy to do and with no sharp nails or other irritants in sight it was all a big mystery until the frog came home and asked if I had washed his eyes with 'soap' and put the cream in. Soap?
It seems that Dr. Fly's rapid-fire manner, poor voice and lack of eye contact led to the frog leaving the surgery convinced he was supposed to wash our two-year-olds eyes out with 'soap' and water... something bound to make anyone's eyes red.
Anyway, so we won't be seeing this man again, needless to say; also needless to say, the spud's eyes are pretty much on the mend now, all ready for the weekend.