Mourning the loss of clear vision

One of the things about getting older that is a constant, many times daily, reminder of the fact, is presbyopia. That is, the loss of the ability to read or view a computer screen without glasses. We have all sorts of cute names for these hated devices including 'cheaters' and 'close ups', and we ladies buy them in cute leopard patterns with matching cases.

All this really means is that we can't see in the same way we used to. I hate it, hate it, hate it... I loved the ads that were shown frequently about ten years ago, showing 60's style protesters lashing out against 'the establishment' that doesn't allow them to see properly. They called themselves the 'Presbyopia 10'. Man, if I thought it'd make a difference, I would protest, too.

I am so tired of glancing at my calendar only to realize that, no, I can't do that any more. And, one pair of glasses is not enough. I wear glasses that are plain lenses above with a reader bifocal while at work, because I am constantly looking up, then reading or writing, over and over. Plus, they keep my eyes from getting splattered with 'stuff'. BUT, when I enter patient data into the computer, I have to wear a full lens reading glass, traditional 'readers', so that I don't sit with my chin up, cranking my neck to read. Is this fun or what?

I hate a lot of aspects of aging. Not fair... hear me?

What Causes Presbyopia?

Presbyopia is caused by an age-related process. This differs from astigmatism, nearsightedness and farsightedness, which are related to the shape of the eyeball and are caused by genetic and environmental factors. Presbyopia generally is believed to stem from a gradual thickening and loss of flexibility of the natural lens inside your eye.

These age-related changes occur within the proteins in the lens, making the lens harder and less elastic over time. Age-related changes also take place in the muscle fibers surrounding the lens. With less elasticity, the eye has a harder time focusing up close. Other, less popular theories exist as well.

Skunk attack, revisited

Today, like Paul Harvey, I learned the rest of the story...

The skunk story posted yesterday? Seems a few facts were missing from my understanding of the way it came down. The real story is even better... for everyone else, not for poor George.

He didn't forget the live trap with skunk was on the walkway; he carefully walked past, crooning 'hello, little skunkie, lovely day, isn't it? Nice day to enjoy the spring, isn't it?' At this point, he was past the skunk, but couldn't resist saying, 'yeah, enjoy it, 'cause when I get hime, I'm gonna blow your little head off!'.

And the skunk sprayed. Seems George was not yet out of range when he threw the final insult.

The rest, as they say, is history... (well, almost, his clothes have yet to be collected by the garbage service, the side of the house stinks, and my mudroom smells of Cordite and skunk).

Foul me not, foul beast! I said, NOT!

So, my husband caught a skunk in the live trap night before last. He forgot about setting the trap, and left for work, early the next day, and was rewarded by a wall of greenish yellow gobby spray (yes, he assures me, it is gobby, not a fine mist at all...). He brought the smell with him into the house, awakening me out of a dead sleep, to change clothes. And, then went to work.

There, he soon realized, through the voluntary and vigorous help of his coworkers, that the smell was not just on his discarded clothing, but his shoes as well. Needing to be in court, he returned home again to change shoes. I was gone by then, driven out of the house after a hasty shower, cosmetics and scrubs in hand.

By the time his part of the court case was over, interventions by the citizenry at large forced him back home to shower and change from the skin out. Again, our home was fouled with each return.

This is not the first time he has had a problem with skunks. Once, not being a farm boy, he shot a skunk in the barn, under my travel trailer, next to the wood pile. My RV was rendered unuseable for a season, the kids and animals refused to go into the barn, the rabbits ate their babies, the hens went off their eggs, well, it was a disaster. AND, for two years, until the four cords of wood were used, we relived that one moment of poor predator management decision-making.

To honor his latest wildlife encounter, I wrote a fictional letter as a public health nurse to his poor beleaguered colleague. I really hope she posts it AND forwards it.

Ms. Smith,

I am a community health nurse in Lame County and am in receipt of a complaint registered with our office regarding the quality of the indoor air at ABC Corporation, anonymously as well as unanimously. As office manager and concerned worker at the aforementioned business, I am sure that you will want to do everything possible to assure the comfort, safety, and continued well-being of your coworkers.

I have developed a useful and user-friendly approach to both remediating the existing source of air fouling and to prevent further repetitions of this threat to air quality.

Please call me if you need further assistance in this matter. I can be reached at: 1-866-wha-the-hell-yado-now, an international number. My office will be located in Baja Sur, California, Mexico for the forsmellable future.

Thank you,

Ms. N. R. Sanity

To eliminate source of air fouling, you will need one (1) large stick and one (1) lawn and leaf size plastic bag, hereafter referred to as the containment garment (please note that for subjects under 65, you may need to double two bags), and one zip-lock tie or eight (8) inches of twine, you know, about this much:

______________________________________.

1. Place containment garment(s) open and flat on floor in pathway well traveled by source of contamination (if source is male, success is usually assured at 0930 in front of the men's room door or 1530 in front of the microwave oven). (My husband usually visits the bathroom at 0900-0930 and makes microwave popcorn at 1530)

2. When source steps into circle of containment garment, pull up sides of containment garment, use stick to fully pack source of contamination down into garment, and secure top with twine. Note: some sources may be more active than others their age. If so, ask for coworker(s) help. I am sure you will not lack volunteers.

3. Place full and secured containment garment at roadside for later (whenever we get around to it) collection. Be sure to call our office within one week for prompt pick up.

Now, the next step is pre-emptive, early education and prevention. Post the following educational poster in all common employee areas, especially those known to generate contamination sources, and good luck:

In case of fire,

STOP, DROP and ROLL.

In case of skunk, DO NOT!!!

--A public service educational poster from the Indoor Air Quality Commisseration

'Your stink is our ink'

Facebook

When something that is nonessential in one's life becomes a source of pain or misunderstanding, it should be avoided or eliminated.

Takin' a break from Facebook.

Plans for Mother's Day

I have no plans for Mother's Day. In my empty nester world, kids have jobs and obligations and are unable to travel the great distances to be with me. It was so much easier when they brought home lopsided pottery with agonizingly written declarations of love and gratitude.

Now, I get flowers or a call. I know; that's the way it should be. They are growing up, getting on with things that need getting on with. It's just that this is a time that makes my obsolescence seem so complete, my last chapter so firmly closed. My husband left, too, for the mountains and his buddies. Makes sense; we don't have any plans.

It's just that, well, we don't have any plans. And I am alone. And I'm not ready for this.

I have promised myself that I will not get out the box with all the lopsided pottery, love notes, and garage sale jewelry from Mother's Days past. I will ride my horse, spend my solitude in the mountains on trails, and look at the future. I will laugh with my girlfriends, empty nesters like myself, and think about snotty noses and dirty diapers and last minute science fair projects and jog-a-thons, things that we don't miss.

But, when the laughter subsides, we will be remembering the sweet smell of our baby's neck, the warmth of a sleeping child in our arms, and the spontaneous (usually living) gifts of love brought from the yard and unwrapped like a gift as our toddler's dirty fingers unfold. We will give thanks for being part of the greatest part of life a woman can be; giving life, raising and loving children, and watching them become what they dreamed. Being a mother.