The Patch

We started patching Amelia's good eye last week. I have been dreading this particular part of her treatment since the day she got diagnosed. I know it's for the best. I know it's her only shot to gain some vision in that eye. I know she'll be fine. I know that, eventually, this will be just a small blip on the radar for her. I know.

But for now, it's agonizing. When she wakes up all smiley and bright-eyed, it feels wrong to patch her one good eye, knowing that I'm essentially making her blind by doing it. It's frustrating for her, not being able to see. She lasts about an hour with the patch on, then goes to sleep. I understand this fight or flight response. Sometimes I wish I could just go to sleep too.

There have been some glimmers of hope though. When her good eye is patched, she reaches for toys held up in front of her. She smiles at me and laughs at her sisters. She seems to see something, although her doctor doesn't seem quite as impressed by this as Jason and I are.

Claire and Arden don't like it when Amelia's eye is patched. They want to be able to see all of her sweet face, as do I. I think it bothers them to see her having to do something that is difficult for her. Claire told me not to take Amelia's picture when she's wearing the patch. She said people would laugh at her. I told her they wouldn't. She asked what if they did. I said I would punch them in the face.

And I wonder where Arden gets her aggressive streak from.

I've had several kids ask about the patch. The first, a precious preschooler with pigtails that looked like pom poms, was fascinated with Amelia's pink and green camo patch. She wanted to know what was wrong with Amelia's ear. Claire, with the authority that only comes with being five years old, rolled her eyes and said, "it's not her EAR. It's her EYE. And there's nothing WRONG with it. It's learning how to SEE."

Not quite right, but I appreciated her enthusiasm. At least I won't have to worry about Amelia's sisters taking up for her.