An ophthalmologist did just that this morning, looked into my dilated baby blues. Intently. With a very bright, white light. It was unpleasant. She was checking the slight scarring I have in my left eye. In very (extremely) low levels of light (less than nightlight levels) the room is even darker through my left eye. I've never noticed a difference in any other lighting *, including while driving at night.
So it's not a problem. But after I mentioned it to her, she wanted to see it. It resulted in new experiences for both of us.
The scars are leftover from a childhood infection caused by a bacteria carried by chickens
(I picked it up helping a cousin collect eggs in his family's hen house when I was 10). The doctor had heard of it, but never seen it. Now she has. The doctor who originally diagnosed it several years ago offended me by saying the scars were the result of an untreated infection. Untreated!!! I held a hot teabag over the eye every morning until I recovered. Doctors! :)
The new experience for me? As the doctor moved that blinding white light to various angles to get better views into my eyes, I occasionally saw what looked like a grayish-white surface riddled with tiny connecting lines. I was seeing the capillaries in my eye. It was very cool. I know it's not an uncommon experience during an eye exam, but it was a first for me.
* It's so not a problem, I didn't even notice it until a co-worker mentioned my eyes weren't dilated exactly the same (while standing in a very dimly lit museum gallery after a 14 hour workday).
Have a great weekend, folks. Happy Easter!
Thursday, March 28, 2013
Sunday, March 24, 2013
Dr. Ricademus
The alternate title for this post is "Lock your medicine cabinet!"
My mother-in-law was a super-dedicated mom. She could be overbearing (sorry K!), but she was a good mom. When her kids were sick, she was all over it, taking care of everything--even when the kids were older. It seemed odd to me, but she was the stereo-typical "doctor mom" I remember hearing about in commercials (and in Kristie's post, The Local Farmacy).
Her brain surgery (when my wife and I were 19) left her unable to care for herself. So as much as she wanted to, she couldn't take care of her "kids" when they got sick. I put "kids" in quotes because my wife's sisters were 22, 21, and 17 at the time. Because she had done everything for them when they got sick, they didn't know how to take care of themselves--at all, to the point of not even knowing what to take for a headache.
When I noticed my GF suffering, I started advising her on what to take and when to see a doctor. Soon she was calling me for advice when any of her sisters got sick. I only dispensed over the counter products--antihistamines, decongestants, B vitamins, Advil, Tylenol, Vick's Magic Croup Salve (you may know it as VaPoRub). My co-workers used to give me odd looks when they'd hear me on the phone asking things like "when does it hurt," "what's her temperature," or "is it a productive cough".
I knew what to do because I had been self-medicating since I was 7 or 8. My mom suffered with a lot of health problems. If I was sick while she was, I could either wait for my older siblings to stop arguing over who would help me or I could do it myself. I'd paid attention to what my mom or grandma had given me when I was sick, so I knew what to do. It was much easier to drag a stool over to the counter, climb up, and get the Bufferin, Sudafed or Vick's Formula 44 myself--or wet a washcloth (cold water plus a little rubbing alcohol) to put on my forehead for a fever (never use rubbing alcohol that way!). I often did this in the middle of the night, when no one else in the house even knew I was up.
I was a responsible kid, so there was never a problem. But looking back as a parent, I can't help but think it's important to lock your medicine cabinet!!!
My mother-in-law was a super-dedicated mom. She could be overbearing (sorry K!), but she was a good mom. When her kids were sick, she was all over it, taking care of everything--even when the kids were older. It seemed odd to me, but she was the stereo-typical "doctor mom" I remember hearing about in commercials (and in Kristie's post, The Local Farmacy).
Her brain surgery (when my wife and I were 19) left her unable to care for herself. So as much as she wanted to, she couldn't take care of her "kids" when they got sick. I put "kids" in quotes because my wife's sisters were 22, 21, and 17 at the time. Because she had done everything for them when they got sick, they didn't know how to take care of themselves--at all, to the point of not even knowing what to take for a headache.
When I noticed my GF suffering, I started advising her on what to take and when to see a doctor. Soon she was calling me for advice when any of her sisters got sick. I only dispensed over the counter products--antihistamines, decongestants, B vitamins, Advil, Tylenol, Vick's Magic Croup Salve (you may know it as VaPoRub). My co-workers used to give me odd looks when they'd hear me on the phone asking things like "when does it hurt," "what's her temperature," or "is it a productive cough".
I knew what to do because I had been self-medicating since I was 7 or 8. My mom suffered with a lot of health problems. If I was sick while she was, I could either wait for my older siblings to stop arguing over who would help me or I could do it myself. I'd paid attention to what my mom or grandma had given me when I was sick, so I knew what to do. It was much easier to drag a stool over to the counter, climb up, and get the Bufferin, Sudafed or Vick's Formula 44 myself--or wet a washcloth (cold water plus a little rubbing alcohol) to put on my forehead for a fever (never use rubbing alcohol that way!). I often did this in the middle of the night, when no one else in the house even knew I was up.
I was a responsible kid, so there was never a problem. But looking back as a parent, I can't help but think it's important to lock your medicine cabinet!!!
Tuesday, March 19, 2013
Crazy Russian Drivers
One evening John Stewart showed clips of wild traffic activity (like a tank going across a road) in Russia. Apparently dash cameras are common there. One clip showed two men facing off with a hatchet and a baseball bat after a minor collision. My daughter wondered what kind of nut would have either in his car. My wife started to laugh and I innocently whistled while looking at the ceiling.
Long ago...
I was driving my girl home after a date. We were 18. Like me, she lived in a secluded area, no street lights and lots of room between houses. As I made the turn into her neighborhood, police lights flashed behind us. I knew I hadn't done anything wrong.
I looked in the rear view mirror as I pumped the brakes to stop. In the red light, the car didn't look like a police car. I was suspicious, but not sure. I didn’t want to sit there and wait for a maniac to walk up to the car. I also didn’t want to drive off, leading a maniac to my girlfriend’s house—or have it appear I was running from the police. What to do??? I came up with a plan. Like my father, I kept a small baseball bat (and tools, water, a snow shovel, a blanket, etc) in my car, just in case. You never know what you’ll need.
I grabbed the bat and told my GF to get in the driver’s seat, keep the doors locked, and keep an eye on me in the mirror. If it wasn't a policeman, she should drive to a crowded place. {Why didn’t I do that? Kids!} Anyway, I got out of the car and walked at an angle towards the middle of the road and back towards the “police” car. I didn’t want to be too close to it. Soon I could see there were three people in the car, but not their faces.
Me: Is there a problem officer?
Guys in car: What are you doing with the bat?
Me: It depends if you’re policemen or not.
Guys in car: {lots of laughter}
The car’s interior light came on and I could see a friend of mine sitting in the back. He was out with two guys (who had a flashing light???) and convinced them to play a little joke when he spotted my car. We chatted for a few minutes. I told them they were lucky my dad wasn't driving my car because he would've shot them. He would NOT have done that, but I wanted to give them something to think about before they considered playing that potentially dangerous joke again.
Moral of the story: I was dumb--and lucky. I should have done what I wanted my GF to do—drive to a well lit, populated area. I hope none of you are ever in that position. But if you are, don’t get out of the car like I did—even if you do have a baseball bat with you. :)
PS - My dad taught me to be security conscious, to be aware of what’s going on and react to it. In my youth, some of the reactions were good and some...produced blog material. Today, I still keep tools and water in the car, but no bat. :)
Long ago...
I was driving my girl home after a date. We were 18. Like me, she lived in a secluded area, no street lights and lots of room between houses. As I made the turn into her neighborhood, police lights flashed behind us. I knew I hadn't done anything wrong.
I looked in the rear view mirror as I pumped the brakes to stop. In the red light, the car didn't look like a police car. I was suspicious, but not sure. I didn’t want to sit there and wait for a maniac to walk up to the car. I also didn’t want to drive off, leading a maniac to my girlfriend’s house—or have it appear I was running from the police. What to do??? I came up with a plan. Like my father, I kept a small baseball bat (and tools, water, a snow shovel, a blanket, etc) in my car, just in case. You never know what you’ll need.
I grabbed the bat and told my GF to get in the driver’s seat, keep the doors locked, and keep an eye on me in the mirror. If it wasn't a policeman, she should drive to a crowded place. {Why didn’t I do that? Kids!} Anyway, I got out of the car and walked at an angle towards the middle of the road and back towards the “police” car. I didn’t want to be too close to it. Soon I could see there were three people in the car, but not their faces.
Me: Is there a problem officer?
Guys in car: What are you doing with the bat?
Me: It depends if you’re policemen or not.
Guys in car: {lots of laughter}
The car’s interior light came on and I could see a friend of mine sitting in the back. He was out with two guys (who had a flashing light???) and convinced them to play a little joke when he spotted my car. We chatted for a few minutes. I told them they were lucky my dad wasn't driving my car because he would've shot them. He would NOT have done that, but I wanted to give them something to think about before they considered playing that potentially dangerous joke again.
Moral of the story: I was dumb--and lucky. I should have done what I wanted my GF to do—drive to a well lit, populated area. I hope none of you are ever in that position. But if you are, don’t get out of the car like I did—even if you do have a baseball bat with you. :)
PS - My dad taught me to be security conscious, to be aware of what’s going on and react to it. In my youth, some of the reactions were good and some...produced blog material. Today, I still keep tools and water in the car, but no bat. :)
Monday, March 18, 2013
Originality (Recycled)
I thought I came up with an original idea. But once again someone beat me to it.
As my daughter and I watched some of the recent World Baseball Classic games, I noticed a new trend in beards. Gentlemen (well, baseball players) were sporting what appeared to be Amish beards. Being 99% sure they were not Amish, I dubbed them Neo-Amish.
I invented Neo-Amish!!! Except I didn't. Hipsters beat me to it--it's already a thing on the inter-web. Darn hipsters! But that's okay. I'm not sure I'd want credit for coining the term anyway.
The more significant thing is the trending of beard styles. As with any "fashion", they probably come and go in cycles. Last year the caveman look was in (in baseball). This year it's the Neo-Amish.
What will be next? As Brain used to ask Pinky, "Are you pondering what I'm pondering?" Yes, mutton-chops!!!
Wouldn't you love to date (or be married to) a guy with mutton-chop sideburns??? Perhaps I can make my wife super proud by being the first one to bring them back. LOL!
Good idea??? :)
PS - This isn't much of a post. I offer it only as an example of the weird things that cross my mind when I let it wander.
As my daughter and I watched some of the recent World Baseball Classic games, I noticed a new trend in beards. Gentlemen (well, baseball players) were sporting what appeared to be Amish beards. Being 99% sure they were not Amish, I dubbed them Neo-Amish.
I invented Neo-Amish!!! Except I didn't. Hipsters beat me to it--it's already a thing on the inter-web. Darn hipsters! But that's okay. I'm not sure I'd want credit for coining the term anyway.
The more significant thing is the trending of beard styles. As with any "fashion", they probably come and go in cycles. Last year the caveman look was in (in baseball). This year it's the Neo-Amish.
What will be next? As Brain used to ask Pinky, "Are you pondering what I'm pondering?" Yes, mutton-chops!!!
Wouldn't you love to date (or be married to) a guy with mutton-chop sideburns??? Perhaps I can make my wife super proud by being the first one to bring them back. LOL!
Good idea??? :)
PS - This isn't much of a post. I offer it only as an example of the weird things that cross my mind when I let it wander.
Thursday, March 14, 2013
Pregnancy Confession (TMI Alert)
In my youth, pregnant women made me uncomfortable. The more pregnant, the more uncomfortable. Is it rude to look at the belly? Is it rude not to look? What if she asks me to touch her belly? What if she goes into labor? I mastered the hasty retreat.
It got easier when my sisters and sisters-in-law started having babies--I always knew when they were due and when to start avoiding them. LOL! As with anything unfamiliar, the more pregnant women I encountered, the more comfortable I became. Eventually becoming an expectant father myself washed away almost all of my lingering discomfort. However, gatherings that include more than 4 pregnant women (like every baby shower I've ever attended) still tend to weird me out a little. Or maybe it was the 5,000 two-year olds (I may be exaggerating a little on the number). And I never initiate touching pregnant bellies. It's too personal. So unless the mom-to-be grabs my hand, there will be no touching.
I haven't gotten to the confession part yet, that involves my wife. During her first pregnancy, she had a hard time sleeping with the swollen belly. She likes to roll-over onto her stomach and that was out of the question. In search of comfort, she started propping pillows on both sides of her belly. That didn't leave much room for me in our full-size bed. It was adventure sleeping--every night I was on the edge, hanging on for dear life. I wanted to sleep on the couch, but knew she would be offended ("You're calling me fat!!!"). So I tried the old, "I'm thinking of you" approach and told her I worried she wasn't getting enough sleep and might be more comfortable if I slept on the couch. That would work, right? It didn't work (the 10 or 12 times I tried it). She wanted her security blanket (me) within elbow(ing) range.
Eventually (10 years later???) I confessed my motives to her. Surprisingly, she wasn't offended--and it wasn't because so much time had passed. She said she couldn't be mad (in part) because I never seemed to notice the unflattering changes she experienced while pregnant and (mostly) because I was willing to shave her legs during month nine. I'd actually forgotten about (blocked out) that until she reminded me.
Now that I remember, I'm thinking that should get me a life-long get out of jail free card. Wish me luck as I attempt to test that belief.
And have a great weekend!!!
It got easier when my sisters and sisters-in-law started having babies--I always knew when they were due and when to start avoiding them. LOL! As with anything unfamiliar, the more pregnant women I encountered, the more comfortable I became. Eventually becoming an expectant father myself washed away almost all of my lingering discomfort. However, gatherings that include more than 4 pregnant women (like every baby shower I've ever attended) still tend to weird me out a little. Or maybe it was the 5,000 two-year olds (I may be exaggerating a little on the number). And I never initiate touching pregnant bellies. It's too personal. So unless the mom-to-be grabs my hand, there will be no touching.
I haven't gotten to the confession part yet, that involves my wife. During her first pregnancy, she had a hard time sleeping with the swollen belly. She likes to roll-over onto her stomach and that was out of the question. In search of comfort, she started propping pillows on both sides of her belly. That didn't leave much room for me in our full-size bed. It was adventure sleeping--every night I was on the edge, hanging on for dear life. I wanted to sleep on the couch, but knew she would be offended ("You're calling me fat!!!"). So I tried the old, "I'm thinking of you" approach and told her I worried she wasn't getting enough sleep and might be more comfortable if I slept on the couch. That would work, right? It didn't work (the 10 or 12 times I tried it). She wanted her security blanket (me) within elbow(ing) range.
Eventually (10 years later???) I confessed my motives to her. Surprisingly, she wasn't offended--and it wasn't because so much time had passed. She said she couldn't be mad (in part) because I never seemed to notice the unflattering changes she experienced while pregnant and (mostly) because I was willing to shave her legs during month nine. I'd actually forgotten about (blocked out) that until she reminded me.
Now that I remember, I'm thinking that should get me a life-long get out of jail free card. Wish me luck as I attempt to test that belief.
And have a great weekend!!!
Tuesday, March 12, 2013
Improvement
I've mentioned to a few blog friends that I'm the black sheep in my family--and the youngest. All things considered, I'm actually a little proud of that (the former, not the latter). If you knew my siblings, you'd understand.
But one of them may be coming around. Yesterday I received a birthday card from one sibling (out of 5). That's an improvement over the past few years.
Question: Is there a black sheep in your family? And is that designation a positive or a negative???
PS - I smile to myself when I read articles about the "perfect guy". I've never had any illusions about being perfect, but those write-ups really drive home that point. Every list of "perfect guy" attributes (that I've seen) includes "has a great relationship with his family". When I show that to my wife, she laughs and says the author never met my family. lol!
But one of them may be coming around. Yesterday I received a birthday card from one sibling (out of 5). That's an improvement over the past few years.
Question: Is there a black sheep in your family? And is that designation a positive or a negative???
PS - I smile to myself when I read articles about the "perfect guy". I've never had any illusions about being perfect, but those write-ups really drive home that point. Every list of "perfect guy" attributes (that I've seen) includes "has a great relationship with his family". When I show that to my wife, she laughs and says the author never met my family. lol!
Friday, March 8, 2013
Pads
This post isn't about iPads. It's not about tablets. It's not about any high-tech gizmos. It is about what may be the most low-tech item on market shelves.
Yes, those pads.
It's only a slight exaggeration when I say I have to buy them every blasted time I go to the grocery store. How is that possible? HOW???
As a husband, I've made plenty of emergency trips to the store (often at midnight) to purchase this particular item. To avoid that, I started keeping a spare package in my car. Because children grow up, I now have to keep two different spare packages in my car. I don't like this. I miss the old days when it was something no one discussed and dad's had no idea what was going on. Dad's shouldn't have to buy such things. I want to have no idea what's going on!!!
It was easier when I was a little boy. Every once in a while my mom would ask me to go to my grandmother's store to bring back a "package". Usually she would tell me what she needed (milk, eggs, etc.). But she never mentioned what was in the "package" (a plain, brown paper bag), just that I wasn't supposed to look in it. For years I didn't look in the bag. But as I got older curiosity got the better of me. I looked. Why couldn't it have been drugs instead?
It taught me a good lesson. I learned that when someone doesn't want to tell me something, there's a good chance I don't need to know it--and an even better chance I don't WANT to know it.
Why do kids have to grow up??? *sigh* (Just to be clear, I mean my kids, not me.)
Have a great weekend!
Yes, those pads.
It's only a slight exaggeration when I say I have to buy them every blasted time I go to the grocery store. How is that possible? HOW???
As a husband, I've made plenty of emergency trips to the store (often at midnight) to purchase this particular item. To avoid that, I started keeping a spare package in my car. Because children grow up, I now have to keep two different spare packages in my car. I don't like this. I miss the old days when it was something no one discussed and dad's had no idea what was going on. Dad's shouldn't have to buy such things. I want to have no idea what's going on!!!
It was easier when I was a little boy. Every once in a while my mom would ask me to go to my grandmother's store to bring back a "package". Usually she would tell me what she needed (milk, eggs, etc.). But she never mentioned what was in the "package" (a plain, brown paper bag), just that I wasn't supposed to look in it. For years I didn't look in the bag. But as I got older curiosity got the better of me. I looked. Why couldn't it have been drugs instead?
It taught me a good lesson. I learned that when someone doesn't want to tell me something, there's a good chance I don't need to know it--and an even better chance I don't WANT to know it.
Why do kids have to grow up??? *sigh* (Just to be clear, I mean my kids, not me.)
Have a great weekend!
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