I admit it. I have been fighting it for a long time, but it's time to give in. I am Old. Oh, I still enjoy and listen to music made by people who might be younger than my kids, I love and certainly do not Fear new technology, I am not a Total Old Lady yet, but...I must confess...I don't get the point of Facebook, let alone Twitter.
I am not interesting enough to send constant updates about myself to teh interwebs, and, unless you are the President or, I don't know, a skanky celebrity having a public meltdown, NEITHER ARE YOU.
Sample potential Tweets from me:
This fish did not cook in 20 minutes! Must microwave.
My cellphone is crapping out on me! Must replace.
Dog has gas. Peewwww!
See? And Twitter and Facebook are a huge blob of crap like this! You need a lot of time and Sturdy Internet Hip-waders to find anything worth the effort they take.
I joined Facebook because it looked more fun than LinkedIn, which is a bunch of corporate types totally lying about their backgrounds and puffing their resumes. I figured I might wander across old friends or classmates or former co-workers, and that would be nice. I now acknowledge and should have heeded the wisdom I received early on, when I mentioned that I'd joined:
Friend: You think it's great way to get in touch with old friends until you do get in touch with them and remember why you lost touch. They are tools.
Yep. They were right, and I am there.
NOTE: This does NOT apply to those of you I actually keep in touch with on Facebook! But if you are reading this here and/or we exchange email, Why the HELL do we need Facebook too?
And yet, I do like keeping in touch with people and a blog is a lazy way to do that, because I don't keep up with email well, and this blog has become a multi-year diary, which is better than I generally do with a paper journal. Not that I Tell All here, of course - you do not need to know that I think I may be getting a cold sore (oops, TMI there). So put me down as an Old School, I don't get the point of this whole Twitter/Facebook national obsession. I visited Twitter shortly after it launched and didn't see the point; now that it is the New Big Thing, I still don't.
The dog is now licking his paw, btw. There's a Tweet for ya.
So, if it's okay with you, I will continue to be old school and also occasionally cheat blog entries by cutting from email and editing for clarity. What follows is one of them cheats.
I went to the eye dr. yesterday. I know the eye dr. is the most benign of doctors - no disrobing, no scale, nothing but reading charts and those annoying drops that make the sunshine too bright for hours afterward. But for me, this visit was a big deal. I was actually Anxious.
My first eye dr. visit post-aneurysm was traumatic. My eye doctor (a guy I'd seen only once before, after my beloved dr. moved away) looked into my left eye and screamed like a girl in a horror movie - the one in a tank top and bikini underwear facing a masked man with a bloody knife - well, okay, not quite, but he got all freaked out in a disturbingly rattled, uncool and non-doctorly way, and said I had scarring and retina damage and the beginnings of cataracts, and put me through the most detailed and lengthy eye exam ever, and then sent me to two specialists, who put me through a battery of specialized testing, then looked into my eye and said "Eh, is it bothering you?" Me: "Naah. I see it, but it's not a problem." They: "Okay." and I"m thinking, No, it wasn't bothering me until Dr. Screaming Girl in Horror Movie freaked out about it! I mean, yeah, I can see that the vision in my left eye isn't as "good" as it used to be (good belongs in quotation marks when discussing my vision anyway) but with contacts or glasses I could function just fine! My job is all reading and fine print and I can read the road signs and stupid bumper stickers on the interstate; I'm just fine. But - it's quite freak-outing to have an eye doctor look through that machine into your eyeball and recoil like he saw the monster in "Alien."
So I was somewhat dreading this visit - it has been almost two years, and Dr. McScreamy had predicted deterioration in my retina, gloomed that I was on the brink of cataracts, and that I had conditions that needed regular monitoring, and blah blah blah. And then, of course, I skipped a year of eye exams because I had no sick time - it got used on my mother's situation. So I faced this visit with some trepidation.
New Doctor looked and said, "I barely notice it. It may have improved, or some doctors make a bigger deal over these things than others." I asked about my impending cataracts of Doom, and she laughed - she said that eyes do get older and "some doctors" make a fuss over small changes that are natural and normal, but I am a long way from having cataracts, or needing surgery, or anything else. Then she ordered my new contacts and sent me on my way. And I am happy and vindicated - I had thought, in my heart of hearts, that McScreamy was a nervous nellie hysteric, and now two opthalmologists and an optometrist have confirmed my opinion. Yes, my eye has damage. Yes, I can live with it. No, it isn't progressing. End of story. And my new contacts should be in my hot little hands by next Wednesday. Happiness.
I will also get new glasses, despite discovering that my current vision plan is a piece du merde. I had been spoiled by years of VSP; Eyemed is little better than a discount card. My special RGP contacts for my very special astigmatism were not covered AT ALL, and they cover only the bottom of the line on anything glasses-related, so all of the specialty things I have to have - plastic, progressive, high index, etc. - so my glasses aren't so thick and heavy it hurts to wear them all day, oh, yeah, that's all not covered at all. So, yeah, at the end of this process, my lenses and glasses will cost me well over $600 out of pocket, and that's WITH insurance I PAY FOR. Out of Every Paycheck! Screw that; if I am still employed come the next open enrollment they can shove this plan.
Oh, and Social Security sent one of those statements the other day, and that pretty much launched me on a Bender of Bummer. It's so hard to see in black and white how much your income has dropped, and then pile on the details - that I used to have fully paid health care and that is now coming out of my smaller check for crappier care, and the eye plan I pay for now costs the same and is nowhere as good as the one I used to have, etc., etc., and fuck, where's the wine?
But I am fully aware of just how incredibly lucky I am, believe me. I am not in danger of losing my home. I'm alive, reasonably healthy, and Dr. McScary to the contrary, apparently don't have to fret about losing the sight in my left eye again. (For those tuning in, post-aneurysm I was blind in that eye, but my sight came back to about 95% of what it had been.) I do feel fortunate, and upbeat, and also realistic about the many things in flux in my future. But I'm still feeling positive.
Rumor has it that the other house (I can't call it my mother's house now, for better or worse I am the legal owner) will close next week. Fingers crossed, everybody! This weekend will be a marathon of last minute retrieval and throwing out from that house. But after it's done, for the first time in, um, 30 years? I will not have to make that drive across the state, ever again. And on one level I am sad, because it's the end of an era; and on another I'm relieved. The relieved level will get bigger in time, after the reality sinks in.
Happy, happy Friday!