Tomorrow, I get to bring myself in for an eye test with a new eye doc, since my "old" eye doc isn't covered by my "new" insurance provider, which is darned inconvenient (curses on Big Company for dumping my old reliable provider, is all I have to say).
And that's my second eye test in less than a year, thanks to my old eye doc worrying about my eyes looking a little "different" from last time. The word "glaucoma" was touched upon, but ever-so lightly. She just wanted to "make sure" that my peepers were a-okay, is all, and scheduled exams this year that I couldn't follow up on, thanks to the Big Company forcing me to choose a new and (right now, I'd say inferior) carrier.
Anyway, I'm choosing to use my finely-honed (by years of Catholicism and life in the Midwest) skills of denial to remain calm about this, but not allow my skills to keep me from actually following-up and seeing the proper professional. Seeing is rather pleasant, don't you know--as is breathing, something else I go to great pains and expense to be able to do on a regular basis, thanks to being allergic to the planet and most of its denizens.....
Beyond the eye exam, in the late afternoon I bundle up both dogs to go to the special vet, for they are both well into their Golden Years and need all the help they can get.
And my sister-in-law is recovering from having a new hip installed, and my sister awaits word on whether her recent blood clot-related near-death experience was caused by cancer.
For pity's sake!
This aging business? Crazy! The alternative? Not terribly appealing.
Still working out details for next week's silliness--spending the night freezing my keister off on 23rd Street in NYC for two minutes (probably one) of audition time.
I know what you're thinking: Perhaps I should have my head examined instead of my eyes?
Maybe later. We'll see (or so we hope) how it goes....
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