Bravery in a Small Package

Remi sun guarded

The second night of our winter vacation Remi started complaining her right eye hurt. It appeared red and irritated with the lid slightly chaffed and lazy-like. Our salve was her bed time and in the morning it would be all better. Except is wasn't and two new symptoms were added; light sensitivity and chronic tearing. The left eye would have to hold fort for the right. Two clinic appointments with a lovely on-sight Mexican physician, 1200 pesos and one bottle of numbing drops later we were sent packing to the beach.

The nagging irascible eye never stopped tweaking Remi, but always a trooper when sand and sun are involved, she made do. For the remainder of the vacation, Remi was hatted and sunglassed and kept in what little valuable shade was offered. Five days later, we said our goodbyes to our friends at Club Med Cancun, our hellos to the friendly flight attendants on Jet Blue and did our best of proffer cheer to the epically bitter immigration and customs agents at JFK who grumpily gave us our passports back into the United States. Remi's bitter right eye, shaded the entire time, arrived back into Queens with us.

Suffice it to say, I let a week pass before thinking about calling an actual opthamologist. As often as Remi complains about not having the right outfit, or hating multiplication and wishing I were a better cook, she rarely if ever complains about injury, ache or physical upset. The eye was no different. We heard about it, but apparently not enough to get a jump on. Actually, my layman's diagnosis was eyeball sunburn exacerbated by excessive rubbing. For a split second of day four in Mexico I thought, maybe, just maybe she scratched her cornea... nah.

Not only did she scratch her cornea, she has a grain of sand embedded in it. Mucho painful. I think my "Parent of the Year Award" is being shipped by First Class Mail.

This past Tuesday, off to the eye doctor we went. To prevent an official hospital surgical procedure, Remi was asked to be as brave as she could be and maybe the villainous piece of sand could be extracted from its strong hold. A fearless risk taker by nature, Remi consented, I approved and the doctor did his job almost successfully. All Remi had to do was sit totally still like a statue, eye propped open, stare into a very bright light as the doctor dragged a sterile Q-tip across her eyeball too many times to watch comfortably. OH MY GOD. It didn't work.

Next a blunt metal tool, larger than a toothpick and smaller than a battering ram was used on the malefactor. It too was dragged across the offending spot on her cornea, back and forth, back and forth casual scrapping of her eyeball. HOLY HELL. Remi never spilled a tear while her mother was practically in fetal position sucking her thumb. She didn't whimper. She never even flinched. She was the bravest little warrior with the world's stubbornest grain of sand lodged in her eye. Gandhi's tenacity pales in comparison to this single grain of sand.

When success was not an option, surgery became the reality. Today. It should be quick and effective and Remi should feel immediately better. Add to her street cred, on Tuesday the only moment that brought tears down her cheeks was her own reality defined; she would have to keep the sand in her cornea for three more days. I understood completely and secretly wanted to buy her a pony and a stable for her fortitude, bravery and composure. Instead I wrapped her in a huge hug.

With her right pupil dilated to the size of a full moon and big black lens glasses, Remi has forged through her week impressively. She completed a 71 minute ELA practice exam sans complaints with one eye shut. She played through her tennis lesson with half court vision and laughed off every ball she missed. She listened to two hours of 4th graders reading Torah at Hebrew school (painful with two good eyes) even though the Hebrew letters looked like rigatoni pasta. She just continued to be a terrific nine-year-old, sand or no sand because that's how she rolls.

I plan on taking a lesson from Remi's handbook. Like an oyster creates a magnificent pearl from a single grain of sand (urban legend, but let's go with it because the scientific fact is less attractive - the invader is really a parasite and ultimately not relevant to my denouement). Remi fashioned a difficult situation into her own personal gem. Let her diamond strength encourage us in our times of need. May her twinkling opalescent laughter remind us to smile even if we hurt and may the emerald richness and depth of her courage help us remember to always put one foot in front of the other. All from a single grain of sand.