Really lost in transition

While I was reading the newspaper the other day (right away you know I'm an old person), I came across the inquiring reporter column. She had asked someone how hard he was going to fight for some cause or other. His answer as printed----"To the nail." Now I don't know if that's what he actually said. My guess would be that's what the reporter heard, and had no idea of what "tooth and nail" means. Both terms do sound alike, and no one cares what is meant anyway. Ask a question. Get an answer. That's the idea, right.

Foiled Again

Whenever I go for a doctor's visit, I fully intend to ask lots of questions and completely explain whatever set of symptoms or condition has brought me to the office. However, that never really happens. The doctor is rushed, or focused on "just the facts," and I usually go along with it, kind of muttering that I guess I feel okay, basically, and I'll just agree to whatever he or she says. Today was to be different. I'd been having some symptoms in my eye that didn't seem to fit what had been previously diagnosed. I mentally prepared a summary of how I'd been feeling and the strange sensations that were sporadically appearing. The doctor entered the room in all his suntanned--just back from vacation--glory. In response to his opening "How are you?", I began to collect my prepared thoughts, beginning with "Well, I have a series of questions." I got as far as the "Well...." and he jumped right in with "Glad to hear it." AND SO IT WENT.

LIE TO ME-- PLEASE!

I watched the new and reportedly highly acclaimed "Lie to Me" last night. It went like this:
Crime psychologist interviewer: " Did you rape Paula Pillowlips?"
Suspect: "No, I did not."
CPI: "You're lying."
Suspect: "How can you tell?"
CPI: "The corners of your mouth turned down when you denied it."
Suspect: "OK, I did it."

Ophthalmologist visit

The eye doctor who I regularly see referred me to another ophthalmologist, who specializes in cataract surgery and Lasik treatment. When Dr. Z. walked into the room he asked me what I was hoping for. I said good news of some sort. "Well, he said, there is no good news. Just look at the mess the political process is." This was at the time when the 2 major parties were agonizing over their choice of candidate. Dr. Z. continued on to say that he thought a better way would be for a panel of educated people, say Princeton graduates, to select a person they thought was qualified to be president and name him as the party candidate, and what did I think of that? I said it didn't sound very democratic, and he responded that democracy wasn't working. He didn't really help me with my vision problems either.

Poverty in real time

I never thought I would witness something like this, but a few weeks ago, I was in the home of a woman who was chopping up a coffee table to feed the wood stove. She and her three children had recently moved from one upstate NY county to another and were awaiting assistance for heating oil. In the meantime the temperature had dropped and the mobile home they lived in was cold and getting colder. There in the corner was a back-up woodstove, but there was no wood supply or money to have any delivered. So she resorted to using a hammer to chop up a small table, and used the kids' old homework papers to get the fire started. What she would feed the stove for the next 4 days until fuel was delivered I never found out. I did return later to bring a smoke detector. I hope she doesn't need it.

WHEN I THOUGHT HE'D LOST IT

     I guess I should pay more attention to popular culture, because one of the more chilling moments of my life happened because of my not knowing enough about it. When you get to a certain age bracket, you can't help being concerned about the shadow of Alzheimer's Disease. It seems so ominous and so prevalent. So......before Christmas I left a card with tip included for our newspaper delivery man. His motor route delivery comes so early each morning we never see him, but still appreciate his services. Because it's dark at that time of year, I fastened the Christmas card to the top of the newspaper tube with a clip clothespin so he could see it in the darkness.
      Later that day, my husband went out to get the paper and returned with the clothespin in his hand. "Here," he said, handing me the clothespin. "He took the card, but he left the cannoli." Normally, I would just have replied something like that's a clothespin, you idiot, but with the specter of the onset of that horrible affliction, I merely took the clothespin and put it back in the drawer. I felt a chill: isn't one of the classic symptoms of Alzheimer's losing the name of common objects? Calling a clothespin a cannoli seemed to fit that symptom to a tee.                I didn't want to tell anyone, thinking that soon enough everyone would find out anyway. The disease always progresses, doesn't it, though at different rates. Let's live with what we have while we have it and worry only when we really need to. I know that may not be the best approach, but that's all I could deal with at the time. So I watched and waited, looking for other signs. Nothing much happened so I thought maybe it was just a fluke of some kind, but the fear was still there.
      Then while watching some awards show on TV, probably in March, I heard one of the honorees say, while accepting his award, "I'll take the award and leave the cannoli.." It was like I'd gotten an electric shock. I asked my son what the actor meant by that, and he answered that it was an often quoted phrase from "The Godfather" movie where a character at a bakery where a murder has occurred says to "take the gun, leave the cannoli." I felt so relieved and so stupid. I guess I should worry more about myself, and less about others.