Episode 9: Adventures with ophthalmology
I would like to share with you, the story of what happened on February 10th, 2021.
The day started like any other appointment day. Olivia’s nurse arrived to start her shift, and the two of us began to get her ready for her 10 am ophthalmology appointment. Normally her eye appointments are quick, so I assumed that this one would be no different. Upon arriving at the office building, we had decided to bring in only half of our diaper supplies (at the time, 3 diapers for a 30-minute appointment seemed like overkill). When we checked in with the receptionist, we were informed that Olivia would need to get eye drops in both her eyes (which meant that our 30-minute appointment turned into a 90-minute one). Initially, I was slightly annoyed by the delay and worried that we didn’t bring enough supplies with us (at least until I reminded myself that we had more supplies in the car). I eased the tension by making a joke about how we were over-prepared for the appointment then I continued to brush off that uneasy feeling in my gut. The receptionist accompanied us to the waiting room so she could administer Olivia’s eye drops. After fighting with us to get her eye drops in, she sat cuddled in my lap while we waited for time to pass. Everything was going well until I felt a vibration in my lap, followed by a familiar sound coming from her backside. Fearing the worst, I peaked into the back of her diaper and felt relieved to see that it was a fully contained moderate-sized poop. I carefully picked up Olivia like she was a hot bowl of soup (thinking repeatedly to myself, “please don’t leak”) as I headed towards the receptionist to inquire about the location of the bathroom. As we anxiously made our way to the bathroom, my inner thoughts continued to torment me. I was about to discover that the phrase “please don’t leak” would become my unintentional anthem for the day. After awkwardly changing her diaper on the small bathroom counter, we headed back upstairs to continue our wait.
15 minutes had passed and we found ourselves experiencing another moment of deja vu. It appeared that she wasn’t done pooping, and felt it necessary to finish what she started. Much like her first waiting room poop, the second one was also fully contained and of a similar size to the previous one. After cleaning her up and returning to the waiting room, we felt relieved that her clothes had somehow remained clean. We were beginning to feel a false sense of security that her bowels were all cleaned out and that we had seen the worst of it. While repressing a lingering feeling of anxiety, I did my best to relax so that I could carry on a conversation with her nurse as we waited for Olivia’s appointment to start. It had been almost exactly 15 minutes since we sat back down when I found myself thinking “oh shit! What the hell.” She was pooping... Again (thankfully another fully contained one). This time, we were within minutes of when her doctor would be expecting to see us, so I checked in with the receptionist to let her know that we would be back as quickly as we could. As I was putting Olivia’s last diaper on her, the thought briefly entered my mind that we could grab more supplies from the car, but I decided against it because her appointment was about to start. We hurried back upstairs for fear that we might have missed our turn. We sat on the edge of our seats, practically holding our breaths as we waited to be called in. Minutes felt like an eternity as I struggled with my gradually increasing anxiety. Then in a glorious moment, it all melted away as I heard Olivia’s name called. I sprung to my feet as if my chair was on fire, and the 3 of us made our way to the doctor’s office. As I sat in the exam chair holding Olivia in my lap, I felt exhilarated because our crazy ordeal was almost over. I knew that it wouldn’t be long before we were back at the car and on our way home. There was a light at the end of our crappy tunnel.
Everything was going well until the doctor had to use a machine to look into her eyes. Olivia began to have a full-body tantrum, screaming, kicking her legs, and attempting to flail out of my arms. During her fit of rage, the uneasy sound of pooping began. As her diaper filled up and my lap began to get warm, my heart sank into my chest. I peaked down the back of her pants to see a puddle of poop resting just at the top of her diaper. Surprisingly the poop was fully contained in her diaper and didn’t leak a drop onto her pants. Thankfully the doctor had just finished his examination of her eyes, so I asked for his permission to change her diaper in his office. At first, he suggested I take her downstairs to the washroom, but when I explained to him that we wouldn’t make it that far without a poopy disaster, he was understanding and allowed us to change her in the privacy of his office. As the doctor left his office, we began to lay her down on the floor on top of a disposable pee pad (the last one we had with us). Although I knew that she was wearing the last diaper that we had on hand, I had hoped I was wrong as I dug through my purse, looking for a new one. After failing to find a new diaper, I resorted to seeking out anything I could use to make one and ended up settling upon a face mask and a maxi pad. We carefully cleared the area of her clothes to avoid them getting pooped on then I proceeded to assemble my makeshift diaper (placing the pad across the inside of the disposable mask). Once Olivia was cleaned up, I attempted to get the “diaper” on her using the ear loupes as leg holes. I lifted her legs to put on her “diaper,” but as it approached her butt, her head was pressed into the bumpy linoleum, and she began to cry. Her crying quickly escalated into a full tantrum involving the thrashing of her legs. As her screaming and thrashing intensified, we were greeted by the familiar and frightening sound of an angry bowel. I attempted to pull the “diaper” away, but I wasn’t fast enough to avoid the projectile pooping that came towards it. Her nurse kept Olivia’s hands away from the danger zone while I simultaneously used the pee pad to catch her angry poop, control her legs, and grab the remainder of our baby wipes. I managed to clean her up quicker than I had ever before, and at the same time, we worked together to help her calm down. In our brief moment of calm, I quickly searched through my purse for a way to make a new diaper (my original backup option was going to be the disposable pee pad, but that item had become a casualty of the pooping extravaganza). I stumbled upon one more disposable face mask and 2 thin panty liners. It was my last hope, so I quickly slapped it all together and hoped for the best. With one swift motion, I slid her new “diaper” on, following it quickly with her pants before picking her up to cuddle her in my lap. I held her close as I stood up, and without thinking, I began bouncing her to help her settle. We grabbed all of our items (including the poopy mess that we had stashed in a plastic bag) and headed towards the front desk. I felt a strong fear that she would attempt to fill her “diaper” while I held her in my arms. That fear intensified as we waited for the receptionist to book our next appointment. What I’m sure was only a couple of minutes felt like an eternity as I continued to bounce and rocked Olivia in my arms. When the time came, we made our quick escape downstairs to the car. I found myself feeling excited because I knew that within a matter of minutes, Olivia would have a new diaper… A real diaper.
When I opened the door to the parkade, we were greeted by the unexpected sight of snow falling around the building (another variable we were not prepared for). As the nurse prepared the car seat and loaded her items into the car, I sat on the back seat with Olivia in my lap. Holding her tightly in my arms, I reached down to grab the supplies needed to put a real diaper on her. Olivia decided that was the perfect time to unload a full bladder all over my lap. Her urine poured down my legs, filling my shoes before trickling onto the floor mat (but somehow it managed to miss the back seat). With the new diaper in my hand and soaking wet legs, I looked over to our nurse and began to laugh. Our situation had become so ridiculous that it was no longer stressful but instead comical. I found myself laughing at the fact that her clothes stayed clean through 4 bowel movements, but it was urination that caused a wardrobe change. Because of the snowfall, the temperature in the car had dropped greatly, so I had to work quickly to clean Olivia up. As I was cleaning her up, she decided to start having another screaming tantrum because she was not happy about the temperature and awkwardness of the back seat. Fearful that it would result in another poopy mess, I quickly dressed her in a new diaper and a fresh set of clothes before picking her up for a hug and a cuddle. She hadn’t fully calmed down, but we needed to get her into her car seat, so I could warm up the car and get us home. Once Olivia was buckled in her car seat with a blanket placed over her, she calmed down immediately and began smiling and talking. I placed a blanket down on the driver’s seat before parking my urine-soaked self behind the wheel. Feeling the strong desire for a coffee, I decided to take a detour through a Mcdonald’s drive-thru to grab one. As I sat in the drive-thru waiting for my turn to place my coffee order, I couldn’t help but laugh at what had transpired over the previous 2 hours. During the rest of the drive home, a chuckle would arise every time the thought of my wet legs entered my mind.
We arrived home that day safe and sound, and for the rest of our evening, her digestive tract had seemed to return to a relatively normal pace. To this day, I still have no clue why this public pooping extravaganza happened, but it did.
