It was the perfect Halloween. We spent the entire afternoon at the hospital. For once, it wasn’t me. It was Garry. He has glaucoma, an ailment with which medicine has made significant progress.
Just for fun, marijuana is a fine treatment for it. Long before pot when no one was talking about legalization, everyone knew that marijuana lowers pressure in eyes and has always an excellent treatment for glaucoma. It was maybe the only legal ways to get marijuana. Now, it’s a lot easier and there are plenty of doctors certified to give the appropriate cards. I could get one — easily. I don’t even know why I haven’t gotten one.
This was also a day when I had one of those conversations in the waiting room at UMass that makes me glad I live here and not somewhere else. The woman sitting next to me who looked to be about my age was mumbling to herself. Why? Because the political ads were on the TV and she was mumbling “LIARS! They are LYING! Why don’t we make them stop?”
So I jumped in and said, “Because for some reason, we don’t seem to know how to make them tell the truth.”
The conversation ambled and rambled along through “how stupid ARE we?” and what an awful country this is going to be if the Republicans really take over. Eventually Garry finally came out. The doctor came over and explained what they’d found and said he would need to come in more often and they might need to change his medication, but even though his right optic nerve is showing signs of disintegration, mostly he is in the same place he was in 2020. Which is partly good news, and partly not such good news.
The answer is that as we age, $hit happens. No matter how well you eat or how much you exercise, we all age. Some faster, some slower. Regardless, we deal with it. What else can we do?
If you were a ghost, who would you haunt, and why?
All my friends. They would never miss me because I’d always BE there. With them. Night and day, day and night. Woo hoo! No one could miss me because I’d ALWAYS be there giving advice.
If broomsticks were legitimate modes of transport, would you like one?
Only with a bubble to protect from the cold AND a very comfortable seat with a back and stirrups. Maybe I’d prefer a horse. In the fall or spring, but not mid winter or the heat of summer. Okay, shoot me. I’m picky about transport.
You mean those big pots I use in the kitchen aren’t cauldrons?
Have you ever had your fortune told?
Yes. I’ve been told and I’ve been the teller. One of the tellers was shockingly accurate. I wasn’t bad either.
How about a thank you?
To all of you who keep coming back with advice, support, humor — and just being nice. Thank you. If I don’t thank you often enough, I can add you to my haunting list. Then I will always be around to thank you — and give you support and advice and whisper in your ear. Best of all, NO ONE will believe you for a second that my ghost is talking to you. How cool is that?