Vitreous fluid??

Sounds really gross. I wouldn’t have given it a second thought until it started melting my eye.

What?!!

Yesterday while putzing around with my iPad I suddenly see this indelible marker-like black streak in my lower left periphery. I ignored it until it became too annoying to function. I looked in a mirror, was it something attached to the outside of my eye?? No. I know about floaters and stuff your eye starts doing as we age but I’d never seen anything like this. So I decided it was the iPad’s fault and went to do the laundry. Walking in the dark laundry room I start seeing flashes in that eye with the dark streaks. This bothered me enough to call the eye doctor.

Waiting for them to return the call I tried reading the paper, no good, then just played with husky-mix rescue Lily. Nothing diverted enough away from this thing. They finally call back. I am given a 2:00 appointment.

Absolutely positive this is something requiring hospitalization I went through a brief eye exam then they gave those drops that expand your pupil to the extremities of the iris taking in enough light to blind an owl.

Looking up, sideways, down, left right, diagonally. The doctor hands me a piece of paper outlining things that, should they happen with my eye I must call their office immediately. He explained this phenomenon:

The eye is filled with a gel-like fluid (vitreous). As we age, 90% of us will experience the liquefying of this gel stuff (melting eye), the black streaks are shadows created by the melting of it. Not exactly certain as to the physics of this shadow-seeing phenomenon. “Is it a rite of passage?” I ask, hopefully.

“Not exactly,” replies the doctor.

“But it’s normal,” I squeak.

“Sort of.”

“Why is it only one eye?” getting braver here.

“They don’t always do this at the same time.”

Great. I may have this to look forward to all over again. At least I’ll know what it is. Or maybe the right eye will be in the other 10%.

Well, his nurse didn’t bolt out the door to call the hospital so I am guessing I will still be able to see for at least the foreseeable (pun unavoidable) future.

But liquefying gel? In my eye? Will it shrink? Will I have sunken eye? So far nothing appears to have changed, on the outside.

Somehow I’d rather only see this part of it. Not wanting to see the inner workings here, just wanting it all to keep working!

I have to go back in 4 weeks for a recheck.

Signing

I have long admired those who speak more than one language, even those who have enough words in the language’s vocabulary to be functional, if minimally so. My (for me) most impressive accomplishment there was my last next-door neighbor, originally from Iraq so she spoke Arabic, a language I knew nothing of but now have a few words, phrases. She and her husband were grandparents many times over. He is from Turkey. He spoke more “American” than she but she and I often had conversations over the back fence. She knew enough words to summon me there by phone, and I understood enough between her few words in English and gestures to have a friendly chat now and then.

I have been taking a sign language class the last few weeks. I know the alphabet but that’s pretty slow when you have to manually spell each word in conversation. Imagine the same in a spoken one. So the basic signs– girl, boy, student, mother, father, family, go, come, here, there, school, store, etc., are not too hard, it’s the temporal ones: when, if, whether that we have not tackled yet that I’m wondering about.

Pronunciation in sign is vastly different from verbal. If you ever took French in school likely you studied from a teacher they said taught Parisian French which I guess is opposed to dialectic or colloquial or provincial. Or Spanish, Madrid maybe, or Brazilian. Like here, southerners are barely intelligible to people from New York. We drop whole syllables and add more. We make up words: y’all could be two or several. All y’all could be who knows? A whole country. Some southerners when they are getting ready to say, do or cook something are fixin’ to. Doesn’t make much sense unless you are from here. For most normal people fixing is to repair something.

I watch the lady who signs in my church sometimes. She is graceful, I have no idea what any of it means (yet) but I enjoy watching her. Her arms float and waft words known to those who can’t hear and sometimes her face becomes enraptured with whatever it is she signs.

Maybe I will be that good someday but it will take a while. Probably a good idea to limit what I do until I understand a lot more.

A big plus: I will have to think before I speak!

Spider therapy

I don’t know too many people who love the sight of one of these eight-legged creatures either encountered on the floor or in surprise meeting on a walk through a near-invisible web in the woods. They scare me, too but I will save one out of a puddle of water.

One recent evening I opened my back porch door so my rescue dog Lily could complete her end of the day ablutions and caught a slight movement out of the corner of my eye. Just beyond the opening of the door was a long silvery strand. I looked above and left and there, moving methodically, was a large brown spider carefully and rhythmically attaching the cross-strands to its web.

I was transfixed.

The only thing I could imagine the other ends of this web would be attached to were the eave of my house and a tall pine that stood just outside the door. This was a span of 4-6 feet each way so I could see this was a massive spider web. As I watched this spider I was a little jealous. Here is this creature sharing this planet with me. The spider comes into being knowing what it will do its entire life. Make webs, catch and eat insects (in some cases with some spiders, small birds), make egg cases and ultimately die. It goes through its life doing exactly as it is meant. It has no ego. It has no higher aspirations. It does not want to be the highest order of spider or become jealous of other spiders for their more beautiful markings or various different webs. It simply exists in and of itself serving the purpose it was born to.

Is it the lack of ego? Absence of fear or other emotions? Is it the presence of these that so inhibits us, sometimes to the point of emotional paralysis? We come to these walls, these blocks. Then somehow we have a breakthrough. We move smoothly, then stuff accumulates. Repeating many times, different circumstances. It’s the journey we are told. Not the end, but we are moving toward… ?

So I watched this spider, long after Lily had returned to the house and her comfy dog bed. Proverbial in movement, graceful almost. Gratified that there are some things over which we have no control and which move on with their lives, small though they may seem.

Accomplishment.

Tailless

Many creatures can lose an appendage and not die. A starfish can lose a leg, or 3, and regenerate it. Even the arm can become a new starfish. I did not know spiders could regrow a leg! We know sharks continually lose and replace teeth (evidenced by this summer along my coast). Planaria– those cellular things we looked at under a microscope in high school biology –can create an entire new creature from each piece cut away from the original. And the one we all know, lizards (geckos, anoles, etc.) can grow a new tail if all or part breaks off.

One of these latter found its way on my sun porch. I was on the phone and my rescue dog Lily was close behind me. It was up on the screen and it took a minute to realize it was on the inside. Probably would have been fine, minding its own business but knowing Lily’s capabilities and appetite for the new and different I thought it would be better off if I caught it and took it outside.

Mistake.

First, do you know how hard it is to actually lay hands on one of these? Then when you have it the little thing wriggles out of your (however light so as to not squeeze it to death) grasp till all you have is its tail, which it breaks off by swaying rapidly back and forth. Maybe it does this intentionally. Lily made quick work of the still-wriggling tail while I tried to gently capture it again. Success, opening the door, placed hand on the rail by the steps and it wouldn’t jump off. No matter how many ways I turned my hand it trotted back up my wrist as though that which would save it (anywhere off my arm/hand) was more of a danger than I. Flattering but not my intention for the little thing. Lily caught on to what was happening and raced by me to place her massive open jaws underneath my hand should he misstep and fall into them. He saw this and jumped off to the safety of the brickwork that is my house.

Success.

I imagine he will have quite a tale to tell all his friends.

http://www.factmonster.com/ipka/A0768606.html

Unplanned

You know that saying if you want to make God laugh tell Him your plans? He must be laughing.

This past Saturday was one of those lovely slow mornings where you think it’s going to be a cushy day full of enjoyable moments and slow relaxing. 7 a.m. my cell bings and it’s my son, at an urgent care in pain waiting for a CT scan. We texted back and forth a few moments till he was being seen. So I called my brother. Sister-in-law answered, I felt terrible knowing in Texas it’s 6 in the morning, apologize for waking her, tell her what’s going on. She asks where is he, I gave her the cross-streets which at that point was all I had. Wait, I say, I’ll ask him.

He gives me the name, says it’s a new place. I call my sister-in-law back, she’s dressing to go over there. God bless her! She is not particularly a morning person but sure was a blessing to me at that very moment, and my son.

I texted my son, right away he comes back: “She’s here, that was fast!” So they sit together and wait for the CT results.

And I sit here 500 + miles away.

Acute appendicitis, not horrible but bad enough and very painful. Ambulance is called. I text my son: “I am coming.” Wondering, is this necessary? He will be fine, doesn’t need me (the worst words a mom can think to herself about a child).

“OK,” comes the response. I am now at a park chatting with a friend about all this. Still shaking because I am not there, she looks very concerned, reinforces my thought that he’ll do fine without my being there, being considerate of the fact that I just moved to a new place, am still unsettled.

But this is my child. Thirty-five years old, still my child.

Calling my vet, yes by some miracle they do have a spot for my Lily rescue dog, on Labor Day weekend.

Delta whisks me through the reservation, gives me a medic rate, I give them the hospital phone number for verification.

I don’t think any flights have ever been easier in my entire life, even with a connection in Atlanta.

Still, this is a very simple surgery, he doesn’t really need me.

Sister-in-law generously offers their guest room to me. Gratefully I accept hoping I am not such an inconvenience, short notice like this.

She meets me with my niece at the airport. At the hospital there is my son, post-surgery, still weak but looking well, skin is warm to the touch but not clammy. That’s all I wanted. Lay eyes and hands on my child.

I stay an hour maybe, by the generosity of my sister-in-law. I know she is tired. Besides watching my son carefully, scrutinizing doctors and medical people for me, keeping by him with his girlfriend throughout this very trying day she takes her daughter to swim practice and does the various thousand other things a mother of a pre-teen does on any given weekend. And yet she allows me as much time as I need to assure myself that despite absence of appendix my son is whole, mending.

Unexpected. The hospital gives Bill their blessing and his walking papers on Sunday mid-day. His girlfriend whisks him away. My sister-in-law and I go to visit him that afternoon while his girlfriend goes out to pick up the meds the hospital prescribed for post-op/recovery and a few groceries. He is moving slowly, still reeling a bit, coming back from the suddenness of it all.

His girlfriend returns, we exit.

Unplanned. Unbidden. Unwanted. Unavoidable. Blessings come in all sorts of disguises.

Thank You God for taking such good care of my son, of me, of my brother, sister-in-law and niece.

The Last Turtle Sunrise

That’s what I’d begun calling them. The mornings I walked a stretch of beach in search of sea turtle flipper tracks hopefully leading to a nest holding around 120 precious eggs. Alas, my walks proved futile for eggs anyway, but awarded my early rousing with some of the most spectacular sunrises I’ve seen over the ocean.

Arise pre-dawn, feed my husky-mix rescue Lily, walk through the dark, quiet neighborhood. Lily cannot accompany me on these walks as the local county government does not permit dogs on beaches from April 1-September 30.

So I begin at the southernmost end of the island at the inlet mouth, just at first light. I walk the high tide mark, around the quiet point to where the breakers begin. There is a bird sanctuary here and June and July greeted me with squawks, screams and shrill cries of parent terns, plovers, gulls, pipers and who knows what other birds warning me not to come too near their nests or wandering babies. And this area is strictly guarded, not just by obstreperous fowl but by the local Audubon and nature conservancy. I continue on my way past softly rolling dunes first sprouting short, stubby beach grasses which gradually grow to graceful sea oats and reeds swaying in the calm sea breeze.

My walk is not long, maybe 3/4 of a mile or a mile to Crystal Pier where the popular restaurant at the base of the pier is dark– a remarkable contrast to its popular nightly crowd regaling the catches of the day and fresh vegetables.

On my way back to my car I allow myself the luxury of walking in the incoming tide, feeling the cool waves wash over my feet, occasionally splashing through sea foam. Skittering pipers quickly digging their beaks into the sand, darting out of harm’s way of the humans.

Our beach had 4 nests this year two of which have “boiled” and the excavations found no remaining baby turtles. The third nest will likely hatch this weekend, the 4th sometime in October.

Of the babies, only a handful of the maybe 120 eggs will swim to a place between here and Bermuda knows as Sargasso Sea for the seaweed there, where they will live for several years eating plankton and small shrimp, jellyfish and other sea creatures until they are old enough to follow the gulf stream.

Swim well little ones!

Hurricanes and random thoughts

There is what NOAA (National Oceanic Atmospheric Administration) is calling a tiny hurricane in the southeast Atlantic. This one’s name is Danny. It formed a few days ago and appears to be headed straight for Puerto Rico, then likely to Haiti, a place that can no more stand a hurricane than the breeze from a passing butterfly’s wings.

So far the national hurricane center claims this storm is no threat to land. Well no, not normal land but Haiti isn’t normal. Their entire infrastructure, what they had of one, crumbled in their 2010 earthquake. Nearly all monies that poured into the country in the aftermath in the way of aid some believe was confiscated by their government and never seen again, thus there is virtually no reconstruction. A few churches persist in taking members there to help patch together what they can but even they are expected to grease the palms of officials upon entry.

So this hurricane. It has already begun weakening and isn’t anywhere near any land. It might not be a problem anywhere anymore. But even mildly flooding rains will wreak havoc on Haiti. And evidently the entire Caribbean has been experiencing pretty serious drought so that much rain does more harm than good coming in very fast, driving rains which won’t soak the soil, just wash it away.

I don’t believe the global warming hype. Oh, I believe our gaseous emissions, polluting by our own thoughtlessness have in no way helped but I also believe in the cycle of things. We aren’t helping as I said but our closing all the coal plants or using corn as fuel rather than oil and gas is simply a trade-off. Consumption always produces by-product, every action produces an equal and opposite reaction.

So do we stop moving, breathing, thinking?

http://www.nhc.noaa.gov/ ; http://www.britannica.com/event/Haiti-earthquake-of-2010

On point

My rescue dog Lily is incredibly focused. On me mostly, but her new favorite things are chasing toads and lizards, and a certain rodent creature that moves too fast to see enough to tell what it is. It’s small like a mouse but doesn’t have a tail. Its fur is grey and if it has ears they are very tiny. She finds them above ground so they do not appear to be moles which are practically blind. These things seem to see just fine because they skim through high grasses to escape Lily’s sharp eyes and very keen sense of smell.

Her newest favorite thing is the ghost crab.

(not my photo)

These crabs are semi-hard shell and inedible. So far Lily has not tried to eat one. They are generally unseen during daylight hours using this time to industriously dig their burrows, some with many options for ingress/egress. If you are sunning yourself or reading quietly in a beach chair you will catch a tiny movement in the corner of your eye. If you turn to look at the spot you will see nothing. If you keep looking at a blank area of sand momentarily a pair of eyestalks will slowly emerge, then a bulky little off-white shell. Seconds later if the crab is doing what it normally does at this time a small spray of sand will suddenly be ejected from its claws which it collected from digging.

At dusk they begin to venture forth, picking through the sand for tiny tidbits of food. No idea what that might be. Insects? miniscule remains of sea life? who knows. But they are very fast. Lily first encountered one, cornered it, must have sensed they have claws (large pincers) and subsequently sprang straight up in the air when it raised one. She has amazing night vision because their movement is enough to keep her busy chasing as they skitter in every direction until they safely return to their hole.

So now whenever we are near the beach Lily keeps nose to ground, darting eyes each way in case one should bravely rear its eyestalk.

(photo courtesy of Outer Banks Visitor’s Center website: http://www.outerbanks.com/ghost-crabs.html)

Anchorage

Nope, not about Alaska, though I would really like to go there one day.

I began writing this blog in July 2 years ago. Somehow it does not seem that long and I have made an effort to write at least once every week. I had more ambitious goals at the outset, 2-3 times a week but for someone whose dad used to call her a chatterbox I ran out of things to say. Or at least anything I thought noteworthy.

Writing keeps me grounded. Whether someone is going to read what I write or not who knows? So I ramble uninhibitedly. Sometimes someone makes a comment, sometimes a few people. More often than not I write in a vacuum but it’s my vacuum so at least I know what is going on.

Writing was a chore when I was in school. I disliked assignments where I had to write anything down but felt great relief at the accomplishment once finished. College was worse. Unlike my mother who claimed to write her papers upon receipt of each syllabus (how? did she read everything in one week?) and put them away in a drawer till they were due, I sweated those assignments till the last night. Sometimes even wrote them without having completely read whatever the paper was on. I must have been incredibly creative because I usually received fair to pretty good marks. But I suffered the loss of not having challenged my brain to do the work.

So this blog. It isn’t based on reading assignments but it is a reflection of my assignment to live each day, encounter each person, overcome every obstacle as gracefully as I can. And sometimes if I have any insight at all, to write about it. It anchors me at a point in time that carries with me.

When I first started this I once wrote about family vacations. How the whole point was to leave anxieties someplace else, to enjoy people, the place, time away. In the moment. I am leaving this afternoon for a week at the beach with my family- my brother, his wife, daughter, and my son and his girlfriend.

We aren’t perfect, we don’t see everything the same. But I hope this week is one where we will look at it at some point in the future and remember it with warmth, and be glad that we shared this time.

Wheels

So the weather here is like any beach town in summer. Hot. But this kind of hot at times I have no words for. 85 degrees at 5 in the morning is not normal, I don’t care how close to the equator you are. 110 is a number I only think of in terms of what I weighed in the ninth grade. Lily, my husky-mix rescue dog does not tolerate this weather. I don’t either, much.

Lily formerly enjoyed early morning runs/walks on a shady greenway, about 5 miles of a morning no matter what time of year. Since we can’t do that here she goes about half that distance, both walks of the day combined. Me, I need to move a bit more so I unearthed a bicycle I bought once upon a time when I lived in the land of Florida. This bike has no frills. It has 2 wheels, a seat, chain, pedals, handlebars and foot brakes. That’s it. No bells, whistles, gears, lights, nothing that I can’t fix (I hope). It’s more work but the trade off is better with lower maintenance. My kind of life.

So I ride up to a park a couple of miles from my house where Lily and I often walk, praying at the blind curves, staying as far over by the curbing as possible. The distance around the pond at this park I am told is about 1-1/4 miles. I try for at least 3 times around, sometimes more, occasionally less but if I go 3 I know I’ve done between 5-10 miles round trip.

No helmet. Sometimes a hat.

Interesting what you notice when you are not in a car. The butterflies that whiz by, over, around me. The occasional snake that pops its head up periscope-like to see if the coast is clear only to duck back into the tall grass, seeing me bearing down. If an osprey flies over I can stop to watch it until it is out of sight. A lizard skittering by the pathway.

And always that lovely breeze created by pedal propulsion.