Like A Branding Iron

Now that I have recovered from my pink eye and don't have to self-administer drops every three waking hours, I remember something from my parenting years that I had blocked out forgotten.  When Offspring #1 was a little tyke, he got pink eye repeatedly.  Every time he got a cold he'd get pink eye to go along with it.  I think the worst year was when he was two years old.  Being an experienced victim of pink eye, he remembered that he hated the eye drops.  Normally a laid back little boy he would scream when it came to eye drop time.  He would scream bloody murder.  I do not exaggerate.  An outsider would think we were branding

him on the flank like a cowhand brands a steer on the range.  As soon as the drop was administered and we released our hold on him, he'd calm down immediately.  As a parent I tried every idea I could think of to make this easier for him.  Distraction!  I tried distraction but when the medication is administered to the eye, he could see it coming.  Persuasion!  Epic fail with persuasion.  I could talk till I was blue in the face and he would not be persuaded. You try reasoning with a two year old.  Bribery!  Positive Reinforcement!  Nothing I offered was enough to consent to the eye drops.  Books, candy, hot wheels, ice cream, money, bars of solid gold, stocks and bonds - he turned them all down.  The stern tough-love approach also failed.  After trying all these approaches numerous times we settled on the "no-warning-get-it-over-with-as-soon-as-possible" technique.  We had to get those drops in or he might go blind. One of us would scoop him up and lay him across our lap and hold his head while the other parent pried his tight eyelids apart and administer the drop.  Then we'd let him go and he'd walk away and instantly be fine. Strange how he could turn it off so quickly.  We switched roles so he never knew which one of us would grab him next. This technique reduced the screaming bloody murder time to a minimum.  At home this was no problem at all.  The problem came on vacation one summer.  Pink eye symptoms appeared halfway across South Dakota. We were traveling in a white Plymouth Horizon without air conditioning. Phone calls were made.  The prescription for antibiotic eye drops was filled at Wall Drug.  Since we were tent camping we had minimal privacy.  Sometimes we would have to pull off the road to give the eye drops.  We'd stop at a gas station, maybe get gas, and walk around a little bit.  This cute tow-headed boy, perfectly healthy except for pink eye, walking around in his OshKosh b Gosh overalls in a gas station parking lot, would be rudely snatched up without warning by one parent while they sat on the cement parking barrier and restrained by the head while the other parents pulled his eyelids apart and put drops in while he screamed his little head off.  This drew rebuking stares from other gas station patrons.  We looked like evil child abusers for those 30 seconds of medication administration.  We noticed the disapproving stares.  We felt the judgement.  Returning the accusatory stares with a smile was one option.  Ignoring them was another.  Trying to compensate by being overly nurturing after the eye drops seemed too artificial.  We had no good options at gas stations.  Let them think what ever they want.  Our little boy's vision was at stake.  And although we had a great time at Mount Rushmore and enjoyed seeing buffalo roam at Custer State Park, we were glad to be home where we could treat the pink eye in private.  If you asked me now if I wanted to travel to Rapid City with a two year old while tent camping out of a compact car without air conditioning in the month of July I'm not one hundred percent sure I would agree to go.  But I was naive young then and it seemed like a great adventure.