Eye Surgery

For as long as I can remember, I have wished I could just cut off my head and regenerate a new one. My parents always like to joke that I was born with a very expensive head. By the time I was three years old, I had had three eye surgeries. By the time I was twelve, I needed braces and a dermatologist, and by the time I was sixteen, I needed my head shrunk. Unfortunately, we were never really able to afford braces and, luckily, college campuses come equipped with free counseling centers (and by "free", I mean built into the $40,000/year tuition.)

I guess it was also hoped that after three eye surgeries at ages 1, 2, and 3, I would be done. I was born with strabismus, a muscular disorder affecting the eyes and their ability to work together. It was extremely bad when I was born, hence the willingness to put a baby/toddler under general anesthesia three times to cut into her eyes. My condition was greatly improved after the surgeries, but over time the muscles have weakened again. I am not exactly sure at what point my eyes started regressing, but in high school I became acutely self-conscious about it. At that point, it felt like it was largely a cosmetic issue with practical consequences. While working a summer job at an Auntie Anne's, I had a difficult time working the cash register because customers did not know if I was looking at them, and would just stand there waiting because they thought I was talking to someone else. I became so frustrated at times that I would yell at the person "YOU in the red shirt, hello??? What do you want??" Even then they didn't get it sometimes.

Over the past five years or so, my eyes have gotten even worse and are beginning to cause other physical problems. I have nauseating headaches almost daily, and constantly need to readjust my eyes. When I first started noticing it, I was hoping it just meant that I needed glasses. My vision was OK, though beginning to deteriorate in one of my eyes, because I relied so much on focusing it. My doctor prescribed my glasses in the hopes that it would force my eyes to work together. It didn't help much. Two years later, I went back to the doc, hoping again that the headaches and problems focusing were due to my vision. My prescription had not changed.

This winter I finally went to see a specialist in Boston, and after an hour of eye exercises, he explained that my strabismus had indeed worsened and he could practically see my muscles straining. At one point, I felt slightly akin to a circus freak, as he called other doctors into the office, saying, "Hey check this out, watch what her eyes are doing." Apparently my case is an interesting one. Bottom line is, if I don't have another surgery, my eyes will probably get worse, including the pain, headaches, and focusing problems.

The thought of someone cutting into my eye and tying tiny little stitches around the muscles terrifies me, but I know I really need to do it. My main comfort is knowing that I am in one of the best cities in the country for medical care.

My first hurdle has been contacting my old doctor from CA who performed all my surgeries, Dr. Arthur Rosenbaum, and ordering my 25 year old medical records. God, that makes me feel old.

Overheard at Work

"Yeah, I have a Twitter account but I don't use it very much. I signed up so I could keep in touch with my son at college and the North Dakota Department of Insurance."

Family Mysteries

My husband's family history is fascinating - he is a direct descendant of one of the Salem witches, Sarah Wild (also spelled Wilde and Wildes). On his mother's side, he is as old school New England as they come, tracing many branches of his family back to 17th century Massachusetts, and can in fact trace his family back almost a thousand years in England. It blows me away.

But what is almost as fascinating to me is how little we know about my family, specifically my Dad's side. My Dad's parents were both children of Ellis Island immigrants, and because they were relatively poor when they crossed the pond, we know almost nothing about their pre-America lives. What's interesting is that my father's father was born in the US, and we still know very little about him. He passed away when my father was nine, and my grandmother was never forthcoming with information. Sure, she told the same Daisy the cow story every time we visited, but what my grandfather did for a living? Nope, she never mentioned. Where they got married? Not something she talked about.

We've come to discover that my grandmother was my grandfather's third wife. At least. Recordkeeping in the beginning of the 20th century was not what it is now, though light years better than the 19th century. In some ways, I am glad for the effect that the internet will have on future generations' ability to research their family history. But I am also sad for them because there will be no mystery, no discoveries, no dark family history slowly coming to light. Will they lose appreciation for it? Will they be as awed by their ancestors as I am today?

I think it is going to mean that the onus will be even more on parents to instill in their children the importance of history and genealogy, because it will not be a mystery naturally unfolding before their eyes. It will just be Google.

Dancing Terrorists

Anyone who knows me well knows that I have undeniably strange dreams. I LOVE my strange dreams. In fact, one reason I love sleeping so much is that my dreams are so hilarious and feel so real. Please note that I did not say they were realistic, but just incredibly vivid. Unfortunately, this means that when I have nightmares, they are equally as vivid, and it is not uncommon for me to wake up with my heart racing and tears streaming down my face. And even as crazy as my dreams are now, when I was on Effexor, my dreams were just in another dimension altogether. Living in a dishwasher and talking calmly with a giant squid were just the highlights. I really miss those days, and sometimes want to go back on Effexor just for the dreams.

A theme that my subconscious seems to be playing with lately is that of terrorists that enjoy creating dance routines. It started a few months ago when I was trapped in a building that had suddenly been taken over by terrorists. I happened to be in the elevator going to the ground floor at the time the infiltration was initiated. When the doors opened, and I realized what was going on, I quickly hit the "Door Close" button (and we all know that that button doesn't actually do anything... just like the button we hit to make the "Walk" sign light up for us). I went to another floor, and had no choice but to get out. The terrorists had somehow made it to this floor as well, and were forcing a large group of hostages to learn and practice a Britney Spears dance routine. True torture, indeed.

Last night, the man whom I can only assume is the leader of the Dancing Terrorists made an appearance. I referred to him as The Dance Captain. Somehow we knew he was coming before he arrived, and I bet someone that when he got there, he would do some dance moves, using his hands as guns, a la a terrifically horrible musical about the Wild West.

And I was not let down. When The Dance Captain finally arrived, he was so involved in his performance, that he did not notice the police officers that had snuck in to save us. His end was not a good one, but at least we weren't forced to don skanky outfits and dance around to bad pop music.

Minnesota

Things I Love

1. Crisp, fresh air
2. An abundance of Jamba Juice
3. The Mississippi River
4. A stranger offered to take our picture and didn't run away with our camera
5. Charles Schultz is a native Minnesotan
6. The Mary Tyler Moore statue
7. The row of beautiful 19th century mansions in St. Paul
8. The skyways are very cool.... in theory
9. The Mall of America and the seizures it gave me.

Things I Don't Love

1. In reality, the skyways made me want to rip my arm off and throw it at someone.
2. The Twin Cities felt completely empty on a beautiful spring Saturday (for Washingtonians, think Arlington on a weekend)
3. Going along with #2, everything was closed on a Saturday.
4. Lack of Bank of America ATM's
5. The accent. While I used to think that accent was cute, since the 2008 election, hearing it makes me want to.... see #1 of this list.
6. The Mall of America and the seizures it gave me.