One Angry Monkey

I finally went and had an eye exam today. Boy, optometry has changed in the last ten or so years. Before I went in the receptionist did some preliminary tests, one of which was (unless I’m mistaken) a glaucoma test. That’s where they test your eyeball pressure. The last time I had one of those I was still in high school. Back then what they did was spray some anesthetic into my eye and press this thing against it. I hated it at the time.

What happened today made me long for the good old days of numbing spray and big blue light-things. What they do now, at least where I went, is get you to look at a flashing green light and then they blast a jet of air into your eye. Into. Your. Eye. And if you flinch they have to keep doing it because if you flinch they can’t get a reading. What I want to know is this; who could have a blast of air to the eye and not flinch?

As it turns out I’m even more skittish than most people when it comes to having jets of air blasting at my eyeball. After five failed attempts on each eye (before you reach for the calculator, that’s 10 in total) she finally gave up. I wiped the tears from my face and stumbled after the optometrist. Everything went well. I discovered I can’t see squat through my right eye even with my glasses on, and my left isn’t much better. Guess those headaches aren’t so mysterious after all. Then came the really really fun part — a check of general eye health. That’s where they shine a really bright light in your eye, then put up a magnifying glass to make it even brighter. It took quite some time before I managed to blink away the after-effects of that. Ever looked directly at the sun for more than a couple of seconds? It was like that.

Long story short, take care of your eyes or your optometrist will blind you himself.

People today. They’re obsessed with “the secret”. Wow! You look ten years younger! What’s the secret?

For the record, I don’t look ten years younger. If I looked ten years younger I’d look eighteen. I don’t.

No, my secret revolves around weight loss. When I was having my crohn’s flare I lost something in the region of thirty kilograms. I don’t know how much that is in pounds. Google it if you care. (The real achievement? I kept all but twenty-five of it off! Yay me!) As I lost the weight all of my friends kept asking me, “What’s your secret?” I told them. I have a chronic illness. I can’t keep much food down. What food I can keep down just fires out the other end a couple of hours later, undigested. In essence my body has issued me with an eating disorder I don’t need to maintain myself. My stomach does that for me.

Wrong answer. Read the rest of this entry »

Calm down, Brendan, I don’t mean ours. Just general anniversaries of important events in my life. Er, other important things in my life. Our anniversary is, of course, important. Whew, smooth-talked my way out of that one.

A little over a year ago, I quit smoking. Well, we both did, but you know, if Brendan wants recognition Brendan can post about it on Brendan’s blog. This is all about me, baby. 12 nicotine-free months and counting. I should light up to celebrate! Oh, wait, that won’t work. The only real side-effect I’ve noticed is a strange urge to set everything I see on fire. That, of course, could just be a subconscious attempt to justify the continuing existence of my old lighters.

As a side note, do you know how many half-full lighters the average smoker will have in their house at any given time? More than they could conceivably need, that’s how many. Read the rest of this entry »