Friendship and passion …

Posted by goodoldgirl

Friendship comes in many forms—family, pets, people we know, and people we used to know. Losing friends is hard but the natural way of things. Friends move away physically, mentally, or emotionally. Friends grow apart. Friends pass away.

I lost two friends this week.

My Siamese cat, Emily, lived with me for 14 years and, yesterday, I had her put down. She had been ill for some time and it was best for her, and for me as well. My house feels so very empty.

This morning, I learned that an old friend from college passed away a few days ago. We were best friends back then and we brought out the best, and sometimes the worst, in each other. We both drifted away over the years. Maybe because I thought she made crazy life choices and I’m pretty sure she thought I was a stick-in-the-mud.

She dated a friend of mine in college. One of the kindest, most honorable people I’ve ever known. She dumped him for another guy. I chalked it up to immaturity. We were still friends but, looking back, maybe that was the beginning of the drift.

After a while, she married the new guy and settled into what seemed to be the perfect life. A few years later, though, she left him. I knew what happened, the event that finally drove them apart, but can remember trying to figure out what was at the heart of what went wrong for them and I couldn’t so I chalked it up to selfishness. We were still friends but drifting further and further away.

A few years later, she reconnected with my friend from college. They got married and had a couple of kids and I was very happy for both of them. He’d won back the girl he loved and she seemed to be at peace with herself and very happy. She adored being a mom. She loved her children and would move the world for them. The marriage, unfortunately, didn’t last. I asked her why she left and she said she needed passion in her life. I chalked that one up to pure stupidity. I just didn’t understand.

A bit later on, she married and had a third child and seemed to finally be really happy. We drifted further apart, however, and over time just lost touch completely. I’d think of her from time to time and wonder whatever happened to her. If they were still together, how her kids were doing, where she ended up living? The usual kind of things we all wonder about old friends that have drifted away.

A few years ago, she found me on Facebook and we reconnected. From her Facebook posts, I learned that she was not well and that her marriage was in trouble. We made plans to get together and, when I visited her, we spent a couple of hours sharing our lives since we’d last talked, some fifteen years earlier. I’m glad that we had that time together. It was the last time I saw her.

Since that visit, though, we kept track of each other on Facebook and that’s how I found out this morning that she had passed. We hadn’t been close friends in many, many years but it still breaks my heart that she’s gone. That her children have lost their mother.

Back when we were close friends, I would tell her ridiculous stories just to hear her laugh. I loved the way she laughed. She was one of the most vibrant, alive people I’ve ever known. She was intelligent, capable, curious, creative, adventurous, free-spirited, exuberant, and she loved her children, always.

She had a passion for life that I will never fully understand but maybe I’m beginning to.

She was full to the brim with passion and I will miss her, always.

Looking at the world through new eyes!

Posted by goodoldgirl

I started wearing reading glasses at nineteen. The kind old folks need to be able see menus, etc. I remember being a bit appalled at the time that I had eyes that were decades older than the rest of me.

No sooner did I catch up with my tired old eyes, than I needed cataract surgery — last week on my left eye and my right eye yesterday. What cataract surgery means, in case you’re not familiar with the process, is that my eyes received lens replacements. Now I can see better than I did when I was 18. Which means, ironically, that my eyes are now decades younger than the rest of me. Life is just weird sometimes.

Must be magic

What’s amazing to me is that medical science has come so far along in the last few decades that something like cataracts, which used to gradually make people blind, can now be removed along with the lens God gave us and an artificial lens, that is much like the contacts I’ve worn, can be implanted in its place and, voila, I can see 20/20 — like a kid again.

Now, if they could just magically whisk away my tired old muscles and saggy butt, I’d be all set. Only way I know of to fix that, however, is to walk, walk, and walk some more. So, back to the diet and exercise routine I gave up a decade ago.

Time to get this old girl in shape again.

No more excuses.

The rest of me needs to catch up with my eyeballs.

Credit where credit is due …

I have to admit that I was pretty nervous about having cataract surgery. My sweet sister Rosie, though, stuck with me through all of it and helped me keep it all in perspective (no pun intended). She has been my rock the last few weeks and I thank her more than she’ll ever know. (Even though she did make fun of me when I was high on oxygen and couldn’t stop giggling.)

The medical professionals who have guided me through this process have been wonderful. Their kindness and patience (even though I was late for two appointments) helped me cope with what was, for me, two very scary medical procedures. They are the best and I thank them for all they’ve done for me.

In fact, my hat is off to all the wonderful folks at Stones River Eye Center in Murfreesboro Tennessee.

For sale … cheap!

1 Pair of multi-focal eyeglasses, in good condition
1 Pair of clip-on sunglasses, tinted green
3 Pairs of multi-focal contacts, one pair slightly used
2 Pairs of single focus contacts (been in drawer for about three years so may be a little gummy by now)
Miscellaneous eyeglass cases, contact lens cases, eye drops, lens cleaners, contacts cleaners, etc.

Milk Colored Glasses

Posted by goodoldgirl

Years ago, my ophthalmologist told me I have something called corneal haze. Over the years it’s not gotten better, but it’s also not gotten worse. I guess the best way to describe it is to say it’s sort of like looking through a thin layer of teeny tiny milk spots.

Photo credit, Kemal Gökçe.

Corneal haze is the term I remember him using but that may be more the way he explained it than what it actually is — corneal dystrophy — which is abnormal material accumulating in the clear outer layer(s) of the eye. (That outer layer is the cornea, in case you’re wondering.) (You can’t catch it because it’s genetic, in case you’re wondering about that, too.)

Unfortunately for me, though, it may be the one thing that keeps me from being able to have my cataract laden biological lenses replaced with shiny new synthetic multi focal lenses. (At least I think that’s it, though it could have been something else entirely, you know how docs ramble, or maybe it’s my brain that does the rambling.) The key word here is multi focal. They can be replaced with single focus lenses but I’ll still need glasses to read. (Kind of a bummer if you ask me.)

Leave it to me to have spots on the outside layer of my eyes as well as spots on the inside of them. No wonder I like polka-dotted fabric so much — it fits right in!

Back to topic …

Photo credit, Wikipedia.

Looking on the bright side, I’ll still be able to have the cataracts removed and only have to wear glasses part of the time. Doc is checking with a specialist to see if any new developments with multi focal lenses make them still be an option for me. I’m not getting my hopes up. We’ll see. And that, when it comes right down to it, is the most important thing — I’ll still see, only better.

If it’s really not an option, at least I won’t have to pay a small fortune to keep from having reading glasses that are as thick as coke bottle bottoms. My new glasses prescription will be much, much less strong (I think that made sense) so they’ll be more affordable. So, it’s all good! Well, mostly.