A quickie (which I meant to post on Tuesday, but didn’t get around to it): Jamie had his latest appointment with the orthoptist on Tuesday morning. All is going reasonably well, but she did notice that his vision was not quite as good in the squinting eye. My heart sank when I heard this – back to patches? – but it seems that this is just something that we need to keep an eye on for now, rather than anything we need to do anything about right now.
The first step is to make sure his lens prescription is up to date and hence that he can see things optimally with that eye when wearing his glasses – obviously, if this is the case, he’s more likely to use it. He was supposed to have had an appointment with the ophthalmologist by now, but since this doesn’t seem to have been arranged Pat rang up and sorted one out for next week. Following that, we can get him some new glasses (not a minute too soon – his are so scratched and bashed that we’re planning to get him a new pair even if it turns out his prescription hasn’t changed one iota), and then see how he does with those. Pat has arranged to review him again herself on November 13th, which we felt gave us enough time before my late November due date that I was unlikely to need to hurry straight from the clinic to the labour ward, and we’ll see what we see then (or, more accurately, I suppose we’ll see what he sees then). I was a little concerned in case this would end up with us starting a repatching regime at just the time that we were all having to adjust to a new baby, which didn’t sound easy from any point of view at all, but Pat assured me that we would still have leeway on the matter if need be.
I recognise this makes for a rather dull post, so I will pad it out with a quick Jamie anecdote. My grandmother has just sent him a pack of cards. (It seemed like rather an odd present to me, but presents are presents and I do not wish to seem ungrateful; and it does have numbers on, which is always a good feature for a Jamie present to have.) Showing him the numbers, I realised I’d have to explain the lack of a 1 to him. Jamie was quite taken by this explanation, and for the rest of the morning kept rather randomly repeating, on and off, with the great deliberation and emphasis that he brings to subjects of such seriousness, "Ten… nine… eight… seven… six… five… four… three… two… but there isn’t a number one! Instead of a number one, there’s a letter A!" I should have been more willing to trust my grandmother’s intuition – it might not be a very conventional present for a two-year-old, but he seems absolutely intrigued by it.