Friday, April 01, 2005

Lays potato chip, anyone?

I just got back from seeing the ophthalmologist. I opted for seeing her this time, rather than my regular optometrist, because I had this feeling that with all the issues I have with my eyes, maybe it's time to go see an M.D.

She told me some things I already knew:
1. My eyes really are in horrible shape
2. I'm blind
3. My corneas are very thin
4. I have pingueculas
5. I have very large pupils (I think my sister told me that when I was about 12, so this was no surprise, AGAIN.)
6. I need to stop sleeping in my contacts
7. I am not a candidate for corrective surgery
8. I am not a candidate for wearing glasses in any shape or form

But she told me some things I didn't know, which I found interesting:
1. My corneas have the topography of a potato chip
2. Almost all my problems are likely genetic, I was born with them -- I've not mistreated my eyes in any way
3. Growing up in an area of the country where there is more sun than hazy skies is a cause of pingueculas
4. Every night I sleep in my contacts = one day I won't be able to wear contacts in the future

I needed someone to lay down the law about sleeping in the lenses. I'm just so pissed that I don't have a pair of glasses to wear in my prescription for when I take OUT the contacts. I cannot drive in my glasses, I cannot see the TV, I cannot read. I'm useless.

Mostly, I'm scared about what the next 40-50 years look like for me with my vision. It keeps getting worse, and it's already so bad that I can't see the "E". Hell, I could barely see the chair she wanted me to sit in because there wasn't enough contrast between the color of its fabric and that of the carpet. "What chair?"

I didn't even get a new set of contacts. I've got to wait for her to do more tests and treatments. I don't even know what those are. Ughh. Frustration building. Hives multiplying.

Todd has perfect vision. I pray to God that our children don't get my eyes. Mostly because I want to tell when they're dilated for other reasons. Unlike me, I'm always dilated. Or as my cousin Jim calls me, "The Black Hole." (He's referring to my eyes, kids.)

Happy weekend.

Tuesday, March 29, 2005


I've had a lot of stress in my life. Granted, most of it is self-induced. I acknowledge and bewail my manifold workaholic sins and sleepless wickedness. I only thought I knew stress in the past.

College was stressful. I was usually working a minimum of two jobs at one time, taking full loads of classes, and partying like it was 1999. Even though it was only 1994-1998. At the time, I didn't know enough to know that I needed to be stressing then about how I would be paying for college now. I'm a little thankful for this ignorance, a little not. When I make those loan payments now, I certainly can't think of anything concrete that I remember from college -- let's see...Maybe the legislative process or a couple Supreme Court cases...But I've already made my point about how any village idiot can access information about these things with just the tappy-tap-tap of a few keys.

Work is stressful. I know that most jobs carry a certain amount of stress. I mean, I'm no air traffic controller or what-not, but client work sucks. The work itself doesn't suck, I really don't know what I'm saying...Let's see, to sum it up, everything is too expensive, needs to be done yesterday, and oh yeah, POLITICAL.

I postpone things to create challenges. I like challenges, I need them. I'm writing in this blog right now, rather than putting together a proposal I need for a call in the morning. I'll get it done, and I'll be up against a clock, and that's just how I like it.

But let me tell you, kids, buying a home is the most stressful thing I've ever done, and I've not even actually done it yet. There are too many people to pay and too many houses to look at and too many calls to make and too many forms to fill out and just TOO MUCH SHIT! It's making me crazy. I won't even start on what it means from a commitment standpoint, and what that's doing to my stomach acid. Hello, Immodium AD.

I'm looking in two different areas tonight, and two different areas tomorrow night. Todd will be joining me tomorrow night. My realtor is very nice and very helpful. She wears high-heeled flip flops but I do not hold that against her.

I think what I hate the most is, why has it all become so difficult? You pay money to 'get out' if you need to before the deal is done, you pay 'earnest' money to show that you're serious about the offer. What if I walked up to the door of the home, knocked on it, and asked the seller, "Can we just talk? How low will you go on that price?" Negotiations? I don't know shit about negotiations! I pay sticker price for cars.

Like everything else in my life, I'm impatient. I want it all done yesterday, and I want it all done right. Therefore, the next couple months of my life will be tragic. They will be stressful. And cooking orange roughie 2 inches from the broiler so that it causes all the smoke alarms in the apartment to go off several times for several minutes at a time is not a way to help with that stress level. But that fish sure was good.

Sunday, March 27, 2005

Happy Easter

The Lord is risen, indeed...Hello Burger King and chocolate.