Saturday, November 16, 2013

Don't Scare the New Neighbors

No "body parts" here....
I read something the other day about bad excuses people use when calling in 'sick' to work.  I am so glad I didn't have to call work to say I'd be out because the drawer from my bedside table broke and fell on my foot when I put a box of body parts on it.  I was able to wedge my knee under the drawer and grab the box of body parts with one hand and lower it to the floor and wiggle the drawer back into place.  While calmly calling for help - which no one heard.  So much for using that durable drawer as an auxiliary table...and it had been great to put my laptop on when I want to watch Netflix in bed.

The moment of panic ensued mostly because this time my laptop was on the floor under the drawer.  Save the laptop - bones can heal, right.  And also I had carefully put the body parts in the box with great precision and didn't want to do it again.  I had almost lost my mind putting the organs in the mini-anatomical model the kids named "Joe Guts."  (Joe is missing his heart - if anyone finds a heart about the size of a marble around here, please bring it to me.  I'll put it in my jewelry box for a later reunion.)  And folding Petite Pete the skeleton was not easy - he's fully articulated, but not a contortionist.  And there were the three kidneys, two brains, teeth, ear, foot, femur, etc.  I was not going to repack this if I could help it.

The only thing missing was my big eye.  I think Martha tried to throw it away and I set it in the pantry closet.  It'll turn up.  It would have been helpful to have it to describe my visit to the ophthalmologist to the family.  I started having bad 'vitreous opacities' and flashing lights in my right eye about a month ago.  Right around the time the moving chaos began.  First I was checked out for a stroke and then the internist* referred me to the eye doc.  I was freaking out about glaucoma, since my mother had it....and I keep putting off getting in for my regular check-up.  So my hand (or eye) was forced and the insurance paid for it.  No glaucoma, 20/20 vision, only need glasses for reading.  And a vitreous detachment.  Which happens to most people eventually.  I guess a lot of people never notice it - but being concomitant with personal chaos I was sure something had popped inside my head.  The eye is surprisingly durable - I know this because part of the diagnostic process involved the doctor squeezing my eyeball about 8 different directions.

At least I labeled the box "Educational Anatomical Models."  Because a box of "Body Parts" might put off the new neighbors.

*not my regular doctor, since I needed an appointment sooner rather than later.  I'm not sure I made the best impression.  I told him I don't drink - which is true, since I can't remember the last time I had a drink; probably more than a year.  Then when he had me do some standing on one foot and touching his moving hand I asked if it was a field sobriety test.   I also had to close my eyes and smell something and tell him what it was.  I took about thirty seconds and then told him I couldn't name the flower - that is seemed like a synthetic floral blend, a bit like a fabric softener sheet.  And he said, "Yes, it's soap."  So I am obviously an over-thinker.  It's hard to some up the amount of stress I've had lately, so I made it brief and he told me giving up caffeine would help.  I didn't have time to tell him that this one time I really, really, really need caffeine. 

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St. Isidore Foundation

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-- Michelangelo, quoted in Vasari's Lives of the Artists

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