isn't that what old people get?

You may remember on a recent post, I mentioned Fred's hospital appointments. (Or not, readers? Anyone? HELLO?) I would like to discuss it here - partly because it is a big part of our lives and I want to be able to be honest as I build my blog, and partly because some parts of the past five and a half months have been very, very difficult sometimes, and it would be quite cathartic to get it all out.

So, the day after he was born, a paediatrician came to do Freddie's new born checks. After cradling my tiny boy and staring at him all night, I was pretty sure everything would be fine. Reluctantly, I handed him over for his MOT. The doctor chatted to me about my first night while she checked his head and soft spots, the roof of his mouth and his tongue, listened to his heart beat and breathing patterns, all (all.) of his digits and his spine. She checked him for clicky hips. She held him and let him drop for a couple of seconds (WHAT? She could have warned me, I think I stopped breathing for a second.) Everything seemed fine. As she peered into his eyes with her, um, eye testing device, her face changed. She frowned. She stood up straight and looked at Fred, changed the settings on her little instrument, bent down and had another look. Still a frown. Oh god. What was wrong? I asked if everything was okay. She forced a smile and said she wants another doctor to come and have a look at Freddie's left eye. Isn't this every parent's worst nightmare? I was on my own at this point, as visiting hours weren't for another two hours. I tried to stop the lump in my throat from becoming full on sobs as a second doctor confirmed that Freddie has no red reflex in his left eye, and that it looked like a cataract. I tried to take it all in, but I felt sick. I held Freddie tight through talks of professional consultations and the rarity of the situation. Austin came as soon as he was able, and tried to remain positive. These weren't proper eye doctors, wait to see what the professionals say. Fred is only a tiny baby and still forming really, perhaps it is just a bit of debris from the birth. Everything will be fine. Don't worry. As visitors came and went, I forced a cheery smile and nodded as everybody said they are sure everything will be fine. But I knew.

A couple of weeks later, at a local eye clinic, a lovely doctor in a spotty bow tie confirmed Freddie had a cataract, and that his vision in his left eye was severely compromised. His right eye was perfectly fine and healthy, which was a blessing. My auntie came with me to the appointment, which I am so grateful for, she listened to what the doctor said while I tried to catch my breath through tears. I would be fine, and pull myself together, and all it would take was one glimpse at Freddie, sleepy in his pram and unaware of what was going on. My perfect baby boy. He explained that when you take a picture with a flash on, and you get that annoying red eye, if somebody were to take a picture of Freddie with a flash, he would have no red eye in his left eye, because in a healthy eye, the light would go to the back of the eye and bounce back out, but there was a dark cloud obscuring Freddie's lens and causing a blockage of light. This doctor referred us to the Manchester Royal Eye Hospital, to see a doctor who specialised in childhood cataracts, who discussed the next possible steps with us. We were told that for any possibility of saving Freddie's vision, they had to operate ASAP. At this point he was three weeks and two days old, and his operation was scheduled for the day he turned four weeks.

after the doctor mentioned the flash effect, I looked back over my pictures of Freddie and found this one. I hadn't noticed the cataract at the time, but it is quite clear if you look close.

When the day of the operation rolled round, me and Austin were a bag of nerves. We weren't allowed to feed him anything for four hours before the operation, as his operation was scheduled for 9 AM, he had last eaten at 5, and as would obviously be the case, the operation was delayed for an hour and Freddie was tired and hungry. After going some preliminaries of weight, age, and allergies, the nurse called us in, and asked which one of us wanted to be with him while he was put under anaesthetic. Obviously we both wanted to do it, but I had to go. I couldn't have not been with him through that, and this, for me, was the worst part of Freddie's entire journey with his eye so far. He was screaming and kicking while the anaesthetist put the mask over his face, and as he was crying and breathing so hard it worked almost straight away. The lump in my throat turned into full on sobs as the doctors wheeled him away into theatre, and the nurse hugged me and assured me he was in the best possible hands. I knew that, the doctor operating on him is a leading researcher in congenital cataracts, but there is nothing that could have prepared me for this, and I counted down the hours until we were called back in, two hours later when it was finally over.

a brave, sleepy boy.

We found Freddie in the arms of a nurse, groggy and sleepy, with a big bandage around his eye, and a cannula bandaged to his little hand. He was too sleepy to eat, even though he hadn't had a bottle in seven hours. He stayed asleep all day, waking occasionally for a little whimper and went back to sleep. Me and Austin stayed next to him all day, taking it in turns to go on coffee and magazine runs. Eventually he came round, just as Austin had to go home. Me and Freddie stayed in overnight, him still hooked up to machines. Neither of us slept a wink, until I gave in and begged the nurses to take him off the monitors at 5 am, I put him on my chest and he went straight to sleep.

The next few weeks were a blur of contact lenses, eye patches, 16 eye drops a day, ointments, and weekly hospital visits. Now, at 5 and a half months, everything is much easier. No more drops, 6 weekly hospital visits, and no more contacts! Freddie's vision has improved much, much faster than they expected, and they don't prescribe contacts for his prescription, so he is wearing glasses, for a few hours a day. Very cute, but also very impractical, he has no problems pulling them straight off his face. But we are getting there.

one intelligent looking kid

If you made it to the end of this blog post, congratulations! I know it isn't the most cheery, or relevant post. But as I said, I plan on treating this blog as my diary, and no doubt in future posts I will be referring to Freddie's patch, or glasses, or the hospital, or future operations. When Freddie was first diagnosed, I scoured the internet for information, or somebody who has experienced what we are going through, but Fred's condition was so rare, I couldn't really find anything, so I hope that anybody who has to go through the same thing will find some comfort from the fact that they are not alone! And it really does get so much easier. At four weeks old, the doctors predicted Freddie's vision will be perfect when he is 5 or 6, reception age we were told, but since then, he has improved so rapidly it is now more like 3 or 4. The kid is made of kryptonite.