Labs, Condensed

 Detailed blood work: Basic Metabolic Panel, 12 tests;  Lipid Panel, 5 tests; Hemoglobin A1C, 2 tests; CBC with Auto Differential, 26 tests.  Total 45 Test Results. Number of tests mentioned by doctor---1. 

It's good to have a Chat:

 

"Sometimes a cigar is just a cigar."

 "The poem addresses the conflicted nexus of emotions that often accompany aging, particularly the tension between experience and relevance.  The author expresses this  conflict through subtle contradictions within the text of the poem. The opening stanza refers to "listening" though the remainder of the poem refers exclusively to speaking.  The poem is well crafted, and from the POV of an educated, introspective, and self-actualized individual (" a world I once knew well"), juxtaposed by a self-deprecation of the speaker's lived experience, casually referred to as poorly remembered, outdated, nattering lore. Words themselves are described as anodyne, lost in a vacuum of inattention and disinterest. Yet these words are also referred to as stones projected with intensity towards a target.  While the third stanza evokes a theme of resignation with the closure of inevitable mortality, the final line reveals the conflict as unresolved. By attributing the proverbial slings and arrows ultimately to a failure in perception, any Socratic parsing of the cause or effect of even the sincerest of intention becomes a tautology."

On The Road: Bumps or Humps?

 I don't spend much time on the road anymore, but that doesn't mean my observations  are not roadworthy.  

   I have mixed feelings about traffic circles or rotaries. The ancestor of all being the Frear Park Rotary, a beautiful and uncomplicated structure.  (Once you get past the  arrow on the road directing drivers to enter at  the exit. We're all used to that now, pay it no heed.)  I traveled through that circle daily for a perod of time enroute to the hospital, and, almost every day, passed the city worker who was in charge of the elegant array of plantings and flowers surrounding the fountain there. A few years later he and his wife were murdered in their home by acquaintances who'd found out the couple had won some money, as the police reports indicated. Ever since, the plantings at the circle are still there, but minimal. Maybe the City of Troy  no longer employs a master gardner. 

  Anyway, proceed on 15th, and you encounter 2 double sets of what the posted signs at each call "Speed Humps."  Note that they are not labeled  "Speed Bumps", which is a different entity. I drove over those things 20 years ago during my long siege of treatment at the hospital, then again for 5 separate sessions of physical therapy and rehabilitation, so hundreds of passings.  Another series of sessions has been activated,

I got creative, considering  different approaches to those humps. There are 2 equally spaced humps in the lane you are driving in. I've observed some drivers doing the unthinkable--crossing into the oncoming lane, but that is definitely a violation. Some drivers space their vehicle so as to drive left  front and rear tires over the hump while others drive their right front and rear tires over the hump. I tend to straddle the humps with both front wheels, and then of course the rear wheels. I figured this  puts  less stress on my vehicle.  But that choice is definitely in the minority, so I decided to resolve the issue.

  In my world, that means ChatGPT, so I posed the question as to the proper protocol of driving over Speed Humps. 

Uncharacteristically, Chat appeared hesitant, unable to answer the question I'd asked, but providing many different and applicable ways to traverse different and separate bumps in the road. After I further described those bumps/humps. Chat ruled that this construction, while referred to as 'Speed Humps" is more accurately a 'Speed  Cushion," with its own set of protocol.  Troy must have taken liberties.

Driving further, you encouner the horror where 15th Street crosses Hoosick Street, where tractor trailers and other commercial vehicles speed down the hill to connect with 787, the fastest way out of the city. You know to be on guard, but a further complication is that the 787 escape route often has traffic backed up past the light on 15th. So even when the light is or turns green, you are unable to proceed, just have to wait through the next series of lights. It seems as if  a rotary would help there, but I suppose the whole city would have to be re-sculpted.  

Eye History

 I have the dates in my files but will tell the basic story:  At one of my then regularly-scheduled appointments at the ophthalmologist's the technician reviewing my chart read off my history, including a diagnosis of Fuchs' Corneal Dystrophy, which I had never heard of until that time. The appointment proceeded as usual. 

  When I got home, I looked up Fuchs' and found it is a hereditary disease, which was once a leading cause of blindness, depending on if and when it progresses. The symptoms can be similar to those of glaucoma, and the 2 conditions can sometimes even overlap. At some point in time, I decided to seek more information, as my present office had not even bothered to mention it, evidently assuming it had not reached a significant stage. 

  The place to seek another opinion is the Wilmer Eye Institute at Johns Hopkins in Baltimore, so, being still young enough to care, I made an appointment there. No urgency, I didn't even need a referral. My visit there would rank as a very enjoyable vacation. Joanne C. offered to accompany me there, and with Danny's help we procured train tickets, including handicapped access, as both of us had wonky knees. We had special seating in a waiting area at the train station, and ushers came to escort us to priority seating and carried our bags for us. Dan met us at the station and drove us to our appointment, a very impressive structure with world-class doctors. My eye exam showed the presence of fuchs' but no diagnosis of glaucoma, as my local doctor had diagnosed. I was advised to have regular check-ups, there if I so wished. 

 The rest of our trip was awesome, staying at Danny's house, going out to eat, touring Fells Point, and after several days being driven back to the station for our homeward trip to Rensselaer. But I digress. 

My next appointment was with Dr. M. and as she read ny report, she was visibly impressed by my encounter with the top specialist at Wilmer, but since her diagnosis had differed, she felt she should transfer my care to another doctor in the practice. That was ok with me. I continued there for more years, with Dr. Sax and no mention of Fuchs' until Dr. Z. said he would take the special precautions necessary during cataract surgery, where all went very successfully.

Time went by, doctors retired, and my appointments were with a new to the practice Dr. F. for several years. No significant vision  changes UNTIL:

 My care was transferred yet again, this time to a youngish  glaucoma specialist, Dr. U., who, at our first meeting, entered the room, and announced, loud and clear:  "You now have glaucoma." I started to explain that I had fuchs dystrophy, with overlapping symptoms. But she asked if I was questioning her diagnostic ability. I said of course not, continued with the appointment, but have not returned there. 

"Asleep" Post revisited-----Hyper-empathy

 This is a new word to me, but it seems to describe what I experience, but only when I am asleep and in a dream or partial dream state.  

Hyper-empathy is a condition where an individual experiences emotions, particularly negative ones, with heightened intensity, and a tendency to absorb them, often leading to emotional overwhelm.  

  I suppose eventually there will be an in-depth definition of every possible mental affliction. But I have for a long time been aware that I am often in my dreams depicted as a bystander. I see and feel what happens to the character(s) I am dreaming about, though I'm an invisible presence. I guess I assumed that was a universal type of dream. But maybe not...Some nights I can still summon up the suffering of the  Asian woman trapped forever in that sealed metal body tube...

Wappingers Falls years

 Frederick Wallwork, Dave's grandfather, worked at Dutchess Bleachery, retired in 1945 with 50 years of service.

Kaaterskill Falls

 Dave and brother(s) used to go there to swim when they lived in or near Kingston. I went there at least once with him. I didn't swim but we walked under the falls. We used to have a picture; the falls were quite impressive. 

Too Cold for Words

 I woke up feeling cold, so I couldn't go back to sleep.  The fleece blanket was not doing its job. I needed more warmth so I added another layer, and then another---layer after layer--of words. Starting with short words:  went, left, best, grew, slow, wore, lean, team, and gradually increasing their length, layer after layer: whether, stream, begin, trending, sending, leave, weaving. I piled on the layers of words, but I was still cold. 

   I forced my eyes to open. And saw, right next to me, the green Woolrich blanket that Dorothy had given me when she changed the decor of her bedroom.  I reached over and spread that blanket over me. It took a while, but was finally able to be warm enough to fall asleep.

Theological Questioning

An English major at Albany State had to read many, many works of literature, including lengthy novels. I would have expected those works would remain in the past, but one disturbing theme has implanted itself in my mind, and raises itself today. 

A course in Russian Literature involved reading the works of the most notable authors, one of which was Dostoevsky's "The Brothers Karamazov."  I recall his  position that it was not that he did not believe in god, but that he could not reconcile the suffering of innocent children with divine justice or love. He rebelled against a god who would allow that to happen. 

  I probably considered that a blasphemy at the time, and it may well be, but I can't stop thinking about the truth of  that long ago lesson.

  

In Other Words

 I mostly now am listener  when others deign to tell

The details of the happenings in a world I once knew well.

Attempts to add a comment is a lesson in defeat.

My now outdated  outlooks form a pathway of  retreat.

I venture on, expound upon, the lore that I recall,

Knowing well the vacuum into which my words will fall.

But on I natter anyway, although I should have known,

Though uttered with intensity, each word lies mute as stone.

I may regret indignities which living long has brought 

But realize that all others will reap that fate  unsought.

We know all on earth are subject to  that destined mortal hinge, 

And the flaw in human nature might perceive that as revenge.