Getting Older Is Getting Harder

I really believe I am better than I was when I was young. My brain is better, and my understanding is better, but I have less bodily strength and endurance for physical activity. I count the mental activity and disregard the physical stuff so I can say I really am better now that I'm older. I like to read George Valliant's work with the aging population. It cheers me to hear him say that the aging brain is still active. If I'm going to have to live to be very old I at least want to enjoy the benefits.

After I was 70 I went back to school. It may have been the best thing I could have done to deal with the death of my husband. I studied history, English literature, and Latin. I'd like to do it again, but it does cost a lot of money. I am reading as much as my vision will allow. I want to be more in tune with life and joy and love as I get older, but in many ways I want to be free from people with their judgments, competitions, and jealousies. I don't enjoy the frivolous activities of the retirement home I live in. I don't like the card games and craft projects. I am trying to inspire a Bible study and poetry reading. I'm afraid I won't get many bites, but I've have thrown out the bait. 

I would like for this time to produce a truly vibrant mental activity. Of course when I went to school, the other students were mostly in their twenties. It will be a different quality of discussion that came from that group. Well, maybe not. There were grouches and lazy slobs in that age range and I think there are still some of them around now. I guess I've got as good a chance of provoking a meaningful discussion here as I had at the University.

Anybody want to talk about Isaiah or Robert Frost? 

So I Can't See!

I got my eyes tested yesterday afternoon. I was not impressed with the exam. I thought the doctor was sort of non-communicative. He implied that I didn't know my own history and dismissed me as too dumb to understand what had happened to me.

O.K. I'm old and not a doctor, but I was still his patient. I expected some respect and acknowledgement. When my eyes did not dilate readily, I got extra doses of the drops intended to accomplish the procedure.  In all, I got two doses initially, then two more when the pupils did not respond quickly. The purpose of the dilation is to give the doctor a window into the inside of my eye. He had already finished the part I cared about which gave the prescription for my lenses. I suppose he learns about the condition of my eyes by doing this, but it doesn't improve the correction or change the grinding of the lenses. It took extra time and it bugged me. But that wasn't the worst part. I have never had dilation last overnight, before, but this time it did.

 Today I can't watch TV very well. I can't stand the brightness of sunlight, and reading is severely limited. For these reasons, I have formed a very poor opinion of my new ophthalmologist. .The dilation also prevented my fitting of the new glasses. I'll have to go back later to do that.

Maybe this is just an excuse to get mad at some inconvenience. It does indeed rise to the lever of dissatisfaction and the desire to scream at the doctor. This kind of thing happens occasional.  Something I was promised is compromised, and I want somebody to gripe at. Fixing the problem would be nice, but mostly I just want to express my frustration. As I said before, I'm old and I want things to go my way, to be controlled and predictable, to be safe and provide comfort. And just now I want to be able to see. Short of that, I want to tell somebody I'm mad.