Eye Doctor

I survived my eye appointment today.  Phew!  And actually, despite my extreme aversion to having my eyes examined or touched, this appointment wasn’t bad at all.  I went to a new eye doctor (my fifth, not including the one at the NIH).  His assistant did the easy tests, including the puff test for glaucoma (which we got through on one try).  I passed those with flying colors.  The doctor was very nice and thorough.  He was the first eye doctor I’ve ever seen who detected my “crossed eyes” problem without me having to mention it, which impressed me greatly given that my childhood eye doctor missed it completely (which resulted in years of eye pain and reading problems for me…).  So, kudos to the new guy for picking up on that!

This doctor was also really smart about my medical issues, asking whether I’ve had bleeding complications with my eyes and what other things we need to look out for.  I told him that while I don’t have albinism, my bleeding disorder is part of a syndrome that people with albinism can get (Hermansky Pudlak Syndrome), and he said he sees a couple of patients with albinism so he will be sure to pay attention to their other health issues. 

The prescription for my glasses hasn’t changed much over the last 10 years, but because my glasses were purchased in 1999 and are quite scratched up, I did go ahead and order new glasses.  The frames are pretty similar to my current ones (I was not eager for a big change), and my new glasses will be ready next week.  I had forgotten to ask the doctor what my eye numbers were.  My vision is correctable to 20/20, but what is it without glasses?  When I asked the optician, she said from my numbers, my vision is probably around 20/150 or 20/200 without glasses.  I figured it was somewhere around there because I don’t see well at all without glasses, but I’m very grateful that my vision is correctable.

So, that was one big appointment (to me) to get out of the way, as I have put off having a routine eye exam here for about six years!  Next up:  A dental appt and pulmonary function tests next week.

Anticipating School, #11

We’re in the home stretch now toward the beginning of my doctoral program.  Eeek!  I could probably write an Anticipating School post every day for the next five weeks!  And then I’ll have to switch to “Stressed Out Grad Student, #1″ or “Send Money Soon, #1″ or simply “Help!”  *giggles*

In truth, I’m very much looking forward to getting started.  I got a good glimpse of what’s ahead yesterday.  My graduate advisor is doing preliminary studies prior to starting this huge research grant that I’ll be working on with her throughout my grad school years.  She invited five of the research participants (all college-level math instructors who she’s been observing) to a sort of round table discussion about teaching, and she told me and her two other incoming grad students to join her in this discussion.  We participated in the discussion and the activities, and we were told to take good notes.  It was neat to see my advisor in her natural setting, to see how organized and focused and compassionate she is.  She was so open to feedback and led a great discussion.

So, I got a glimpse.  And it was fun and exciting and enlightening.  I left the discussion wanting to sing the Annie song, “I think I’m gonna like it here!”  And thank goodness for that!

Dancing, Day 13

We learned our last new dance of the summer today, and next week we’ll do all of our dances and have a little party.  I can’t believe the summer session is almost over.  *sobs*  I just can’t even describe how glad I am to be taking dance classes!  I love to dance — always have — and I love music, and I love to learn.  These two sessions of line dancing have been the biggest joy to me this year!

Several people from my class are going dancing at the bar where our instructor teaches on the weekend, so I’ll have to decide if I want to do that again.  The bar gets smoky as the evening goes on, so it’s not the best place for my lungs, but it is fun!  Any of you locals want to come along?    Non-locals are invited too, of course, but I don’t really expect you to fly in from California…or England.

Home safe and sound

I’m back home, safe and sound.  It was good to get away, though it is a long drive and was kind of a busy trip.  We visited with four of my Mom’s first-cousins and their families, and we saw one of my cousins briefly on the way home.  One of my favorite moments of the trip was sitting in a big, comfy chair at a library right on the water and reading a magazine about the Olympics.  That was very relaxing!

I’m in town until probably next April now.  I hope to go to a teaching conference in Washington DC at that time.  And I think if I get out of town at all next summer, my biggest wish will be to go to a beach somewhere on Michigan’s extensive shoreline, where I can sit still and look at water and not speak for several days.  That would be lovely!

Here are a couple of photos that I took on the way home.  This is Lake Superior near Marquette, MI.

Old Favorites, #5

I’m on vacation for a few days.  Here is one my favorite posts from my original blog.

* * *

Kids say…
Posted on 15-Oct-2004

Kids are so funny.  A couple of times recently, I’ve been in public restrooms at the same time as kids who are about five years old.  They carried on extensive monologues of imagination while they used the bathroom.

My favorite was the little girl who went into the stall (talking the whole time) at a medical office.  I heard her say, “The doctor told her, ‘I have bad news. You are allergic to two things: broccoli and BOYS!’”

Old Favorites, #4

I’m on vacation for a few days. Here is one my favorite posts from my original blog.

* * *

Cucumber Man
Posted on 05-Jan-2005

A few years ago, my Mom was picking out a cucumber at the grocery store when a man noticed how carefully she was looking the cukes over and said, “You’re picking a cucumber, not a husband!!”

His comment is so embedded in my mind that every time I pick out a cucumber, I set a mental timer that allows me no longer than ten seconds to find that perfect cucumber.  Cucumber, not a husband, cucumber, not a husband.

But, I do love cucumber.

Old Favorites, #3

I’m on vacation for a few days. Here is one my favorite posts from my original blog.

* * *

Love story, or “Why I hate Europe” (sorry, Europe)
Posted on 06-Dec-2004

Long, long ago (1998), I met a guy.  I was a sophomore undergraduate with, at best, awkward social skills.  But, there was this guy who sat in the same row as I did in our large Economics lecture hall, and he was the student in the class who was the most visibly and vocally engaged with the material, often asking questions and probing for details and sitting in a way that you knew he was bound and determined not to be distracted.  Before I had ever talked with him, I was completely enamored.  Because the opening line, “Hi, I like how you sit…” didn’t seem appropriate, I waited until an opportunity came up to speak to him directly.

One day, the rains came.  We had the worst February rain storm I can ever remember, and I walked into class just drenched from my feet up to my waist and carrying an umbrella that could have provided three people with a nice shower for all the water it had on it.  The guy had arrived in class before me, so I walked down to the row in front of him and said, “It’s a bit wet out there.”  He laughed.  We chatted about the wetness and how we hated sitting in class in wet jeans (“That’s the worst,” he said.).  After class (and don’t ask me how I got the courage to do this), I said to him, “I suppose you have a name?” and he said, “I’m Steve,” and I said, “I’m Sandy.”

What followed was probably the most prolonged, beautiful courting dance ever in my life with a most unsatisfying ending.  Steve invited me to join him in his pre-class study time at the library.  I did.  He made me a tape of some music he thought I’d enjoy.  I did enjoy it.  He grinned ear-to-ear when, during the next semester, he’d see me waiting outside his classroom after lecture and we’d chat about everything and nothing until my next class started.  I told him about my medical problems, and by the next time I saw him, he had done online research and talked with his Mom (a nurse) and was armed with questions for me.  He was polite, helpful, curious, open, wonderfully down-to-earth, friendly, easy to talk to, and nearly perfect.  And, he seemed to enjoy me, awkwardness and all.  Sigh…

Not long after I met him, Steve told me of his plans to work overseas and that he’d be leaving for Europe within the year.  And he did.  Europe.  I hate Europe for all of its farawayness.

Old Favorites, #2

I’m on vacation for a few days.  Here is one my favorite posts from my original blog.

* * *

A bone to pick
Posted on 05-Apr-2006

I have a bone to pick with the world.  Or maybe it’s just the U.S.?  Anyway, it’s a lot of people for sure.  I was reading People magazine while I waited to see one of my doctors yesterday.  There was an article about a family dealing with a late-stage cancer diagnosis, and the article mostly talked about the mother (with cancer) and her daughter.  A caption on one of the photos quotes the mother saying, ”She [daughter] is not a crier.  She gets her strong nature from me.”

When and how, exactly, did crying ever become a sign of weakness?  I concede that if someone spends day after day in tears, or if they truly are crying over spilt milk or crying at everything, then maybe one would get the impression that they can’t handle anything.  But, crying in the face of a devastating diagnosis or a disappointment or out of frustration is all normal.  NORMAL.  Tears are simply a manifestation of large emotions.  And not acknowledging emotions is not a sign of strength — it’s a sign of stoicism, which isn’t something that helps people be in relationship.  And if we weren’t designed to be in relationship, then what are any of us doing here??

Old Favorites, #1

I’m on vacation for a few days.  Here is one my favorite posts from my original blog.

* * *

The Fish Girl
Posted on 16-May-2004

I’ve met a lot of people through various school, work, church, and general life situations.  Few people have made as big an impression on me in as short of a time, though, as little Alice.

Alice was a short-term exchange student from France who stayed with my neighbors for three weeks in 1993 when she was 10 years old.  She was a tiny spitfire of a girl with striking, dark features and a sharp wit.  She loved marmalade and Monopoly, the latter of which she pronounced with exaggerated long “o”s.  “Sandy, will you come play MOE-NO-POE-LEE with me,” she would ask as she flung her arms around my waist.  How could I resist?

Alice’s last name was so difficult for me as an American to pronounce that despite my best efforts, it always came out sounding like the French word for fish.  She would listen to me say it and take a deep breath, and she would reply in a tone that expressed both patience and sarcasm, “Yes.  That’s it.  My name is Alice FISH!” and she’d shake her head in mock despair.

I choked back tears when Alice left for home.  I still grin widely when I think of her.  Miss Alice Fish.

So long, farewell, auf wiedersehen, goodbye!

I am leaving town, hitting the road, heading north to the wild country.  I’ve set up a few special posts to post automatically while I’m away, so it will be like I never left.  *giggles*

Have a wonderful week!