Pretty in Pink (Eye)

After a weekend of coddling a kiddo with the icky sickies, a trip to the doctor for a (neg) strep test, and a fever that just wouldn’t quit, my husband gave me the green light on every mother’s fairytale adventure… a childless trip to Costco and Target and quick frolic through the grocery store. (Back off ladies, he’s taken!) A little while (okay, like three hours… because… Target…) later, I returned home (oh, that’s right… I went to the liquor store for beer… a bribe to help my knight in flannel pants help me unload the car). My husband and I unloaded the car, as our adorable little germy ball of love made his way down the stairs. “Hewwo, Mummy,” he mumbled in the most adorable congested voice you’ve ever heard. I looked into my son’s big beautiful HOLY FREAKING BAKED BEANS AND BRIE!?!?!? No. NO NO NO! NAH-OOOOOHH!!!!!!

My heart sunk, as I stared into my two year old’s disgustingly gross oozing eyeball that was puffy and a nauseating shade of devil’s fury red that only someone who has witnessed such a sight can attest to. He reached his clawing little arms toward me, the heat radiating off of them in waves of distortion, (are you gagging yet?) as he moved toward me in a glazed over state, much like a zombie after a fresh and untainted pile of brains.

“PAAATTTRRRIIICCCKKKKK!!!!” I screamed as patient zero suddenly gained a bit of speed. My husband, standing in the kitchen, turned to see a look of absolute horror on my face.


Now, my husband is rarely rattled and often quick to let me know I’m over reacting… but in an instant, the blood rushed from his face, his mouth began to sink into a frown, he dropped whatever he was holding (thank goodness I did buy eggs… or a baby)… and gasped, “OH SHIT! Pink eye never even crossed my mind!” The panic continued, “Oh my God, I think I have it too!”

As we hurriedly rushed to shove things in the fridge and pantry, grab the kid, and strap him tho the car, my dear sweet husband shared countless careless actions he had taken throughout the day without even thinking. “I wiped his eyes with my fingers and just though it was eye boogers from his nap. I DIDN’T EVEN WASH MY HANDS!”

Sunday night… Doctor’s office is closed… and it’s 8pm… which leaves ONE Urgent Care option. We hurry across town, pull Munchie out of the car and are informed the wait is 90 minutes and our best option is probably just to head to the Emergency Room.

Please keep in mind… we are an immunosuppressed household and while our reaction may seem a bit overboard (because some families might just wait until the morning)… it’s actually pretty justified. Also, pink eye is disgusting.

After a couple of hours (maybe we should have stayed at Urgent Care, but whatever) we walked out with a positive diagnosis of conjunctivitis (pink eye) and an upper respiratory infection… and a super cool ointment to squeeze into our kid’s eyeball… and a serious lack of sleep.

BUT… whatever. We love our disgusting little petri dish… and I will continue to love him… with the help of my friends Germ-x, Lysol, and the broom I use to pat him on the head and sooth him to sleep from a safe distance.

Wanna Babble About It? Got Something to Say? Spill It Here!

%d bloggers like this:
Visit Us On FacebookVisit Us On TwitterVisit Us On PinterestCheck Our Feed