I Can See Clearly...Now

This week I went to see my eye doctor for a long overdue “annual” checkup. I have seen the same woman for almost a decade and always enjoy my visits, other than during the eye pressure exam for glaucoma, which makes me nauseous.

After our usual chit chat and exam, I was feeling relieved and pretty darn pleased with myself, thinking I was going to get out of there without anything to obsess about, or even write about in my blog post.

Just as I was getting ready to go, she said the C-word. Now when I say THAT, I so fortunately do not mean cancer. And I don’t mean the 4-letter word that is my least favorite in the entire English language.

So NO to cancer and NO to a word that rhymes with Hunt.

But YES to…Cataracts!

“Nothing to worry about yet,” the doctor said. “It’s in the early stage. We can talk about it more next time,” she said. That’ll be in the summer of 2026. Perfect! Should I have this appointment before or after my colonoscopy?

Add this to other age-related nuisances, such as my current bout with Arthritis, regular use of a stool softener, all sorts of creams – firming cream for the sagging on my neck, two face creams – one for the morning to and one at night, with a pair of readers nearby so I don’t mix them up, which I’ve done a few times, and so on.

I am aware that many peeps need surgery to get these little cataract buggers removed, so I know I’m not unique; I’m not going to make the history books with this issue. But – you know me by now – I’ll likely write about it along with more of the whole aging thing.

Obviously the longer we live, the more that will go wrong that we will have to deal with, and hopefully we will manage OK with whatever comes along.

As David’s former boss who always had catchy phrases for important situations used to say, “the alternative is worse.”

I am counting on that to be true.

Packages

Who doesn’t like coming home to a package with your name on it? Kind of like a birthday party all year long!  I always get a kick out of how easy it is to find something on the internet that I want / need / can’t find anywhere else, execute a few clicks, and get it delivered to my door. But, I often forget what I ordered and/or lose track of what is expected when, so it’s an especially fun surprise when I get it.  

Generally, David opens my packages to simplify the process for me. If I don’t want him to do that – always around his birthday or Hanukkah – I tell him in advance to leave my packages, unopened, on the dining room table.  

Some of you might be wondering… Why is David opening Judy’s packages at all? What kind of woman would allow this breach of privacy? Frankly I am glad he does this because I have a lazy approach to boxed items that require scissors to open them. I don’t feel like being bothered and don’t see the rush to do so. I’m fine letting them pile up until I need them that second, trusting of course that they’ll be there. Once I left a whole box of goat soaps unopened so long that I forgot all about them and almost placed an order for them a second time. That hasn’t changed my habit, unfortunately. David, on the other hand, always has his utility knife ready to open whatever comes our way.  

The other day, after I had gotten home from running errands, he said he put something on the dining room table for me. I got all excited, thinking Ooooh, what did I get today?!??!? And there it was, like it or not, shouting at me YOU DID THIS TO YOURSELF. It was Voltarin Arthritis Relief Cream. I glared at it for a moment, wishing instead that it was some beautiful, soft yarn for my next project instead of what it was, but that’s how I got into this mess to begin with…

The issue is that I had crocheted fast and furious for a period of time – as I recovered from my abdominoplasty – and ignored all the flashing red lights, because I was determined to reach my goal. I had wanted to create one scarf or baby blanket every couple of days, which I would then donate to a local organization. I first hoped to crochet 100 items but then I cut it down to 50…then 25…I think I had to put the crochet hook down at about 10.

While the arthritis cream is just one part of the overall plan for my situation, my OT instructed me to get it and massage it in as needed. This is in conjunction with warm water massage, ultrasound treatments and a couple of custom-made hand splints which I’ve been wearing non-stop. All this because I didn’t stop my crocheting when I felt the discomfort; instead, I thought that plowing through it was the way to go, until the pain went away for good. What I have learned since, however, is that in one state or another, it is here to stay.

My first session with my OT was very long, about 90 minutes. As we scheduled my next visit, she asked if I had any questions. After explaining to her that I only really have 2 hobbies, I asked, “How long will it take to get me back to crocheting?” Her response left a lot to be desired.

“It’s time to find a new hobby,” she said.

I don’t plan on completely abandoning my love for crocheting, but I do realize that I need to be a bit smarter about it and may need to find other avenues for my creative endeavors.

As long as I can find something that utilizes lots of colors and textures, is relatively simple, and I don’t easily tire of the process…and which enables me to order supplies that can be delivered right to my door…I am open to it. 

Any ideas?

Once A Mom, Always A Mom

For those of us fortunate enough to have experienced the love of an adoring, supportive and caring mom, we must thank our lucky stars, because there is absolutely nothing else like it.    

I have a girlfriend named Bobbi and amazingly, at 67 years young, she still has both her mom (90) and dad (97).  Until about 8 months ago, her parents lived in the house where Bobbi and her 3 siblings grew up, about an hour away from where she lives now. They then moved into an independent senior living community that is only about a 10-minute walk from Bobbi’s and her sister’s homes.    

This new place has been a wonderful change for Bobbi’s parents, as they now have an easier, more relaxed and enjoyable way of life. Their meals are prepared for them, Bobbi’s mom plays cards and socializes with others in the building, and she likes her freedom to utilize the complex’s transportation services so that she can get around town without asking for additional assistance from her local family.

Topping the list of what her parents appreciate most about this move, I’m pretty sure, is living in such close proximity to two of their four adult children, grandkids and great grandkids.

About a month ago, I was taking a walk with Bobbi and asked what she was planning to do that afternoon. She told me she was going to visit her parents, because “My mom has a hard-boiled egg waiting for me.” This took a moment for me to digest, especially given the fact that I had just made a half dozen that morning…and then, thinking I misheard or misunderstood something, asked…WHAT?

She semi laughed and said her mom called to tell her that she put a hard-boiled egg aside – an egg that she brought up to their apartment from the community refrigerator (before the price of eggs soared) because she knows how much Bobbi likes them. I laughed, thinking WOW! Who else but a mom would do this?

A couple of months ago, I asked Bobbi how her parents were doing. She said she had just seen them, and they were good. I asked whether there was a particular reason she went to visit…in jest, I asked, “Another hard-boiled egg?” This time, she is the one who laughed. She said her mom had put cut-up fruit aside for her because she knows how much Bobbi likes it. I said “Oh, how nice that she made it for you,” but then Bobbi explained that the fruit was from her mom’s meal – left over from her dinner plate – but she didn’t eat it because she wanted to save it for Bobbi. Her mom then called to suggest she come over ASAP to eat it while it was still fresh. Bobbi obliged.

When I told her how special I think it is that her mom does this, and how these gestures show how much she is thinking about Bobbi, she added that her mom often calls her when fresh cookies are baked and still warm – daily – and placed in the community kitchen for all to have.

I don’t know what brings her mom more pleasure here – absconding with food to give to Bobbi or when Bobbi comes over for it.

While there is some element of Bobbi’s mom luring her daughter to visit with the promise of her favorite foods, this scenario is such a genuine act of true love between a parent and child.

And even though Bobbi is a grandmom herself, she still seeks the companionship of her mom in much of her life and is so comforted by her as well. This has been a beautiful reminder to me, 10 years after my own mom’s passing, that I once felt this way too. 

There is something so pure, so tender and so unique about a mother’s love.

I was so lucky to have one…and to be one.