she's just saying...

Torn cheese is feeling torn...

the long, dreary path to eye surgery

[If you weren't aware, I'm scheduled for trabeculectomy surgery for glaucoma in August. This is one of a series of posts about it. Not that it's that interesting, but it's good blog fodder.]

I started this journey at my local ophthalmologist's office. Bonus: I've now learned to spell ophthalmologist - there's a hidden H and L in there that can trip you up.

Jason (if a doctor is young enough to be my kid, I get to call him by his first name) is a great guy - funny, accessible, smart, and caring. (Plus, it turns out we both went to Middlebury College, a small liberal-arts school in Vermont. Odd coincidence. Of course, he says I was there the same time as his uncle, smart-ass whipper-snapper that he is.)

But anyway. Jason recommended I go up to Portland for surgery by one of the country's leading docs for this procedure. He (Jason) does this surgery, but says that for a patient as *YOUNG* as myself, he'd rather I get the best. He'll manage the extensive follow-up on the surgery here in Bend. I'm going with his recommendation, so had to first go to Portland for the pre-assessment.

The Devers Eye Institute is part of the Legacy Good Samaritan Hospital system - confusing but impressive. I went up a few weeks ago, and four hours later, after they poked and prodded and measured and photographed and nearly blinded me it was agreed I should have the surgery.

But not so fast. First I'll have to get a complete medical here, including EKG, then go back up to Portland for the pre-surgery exam. I thought that's what I was doing there the first time, but I guess not. Following that, I'll fly up Sunday Aug. 2 for the procedure scheduled for Monday morning. I have to stay overnight for a follow-up exam on Tuesday, then back home. They want me to return again that Friday, but I'm going to push to have Jason do that exam here.

I've been told that I won't be able to bend down (head below chest) for four weeks afterward. This restriction has really struck me for some reason. I'm now practicing feeding the cats while deep-squatting, which I'm hoping will at least tighten up the thighs a bit.

Stay tuned for more fascinating detail to come.

Screwy

Back in the wonderful state of Oregon, but not much else to say. I can't face recounting our endless travel saga, and vacation was vacationy: eating, drinking, reading, family and hanging around the pool. Very pleasant -- too bad we have to travel two days to experience it.

The X-man dropped by for a visit yesterday and was pressed into fixing stuff. It's so nice to have a man around the house and all that. This photo is from that effort.

And the day got screwier from there.

Burning Butte (kind of like Burning Man but not naked)

OK, so the thing about the Butte catching fire:

Every year since I don't know when, the city of Bend puts on a fireworks show on the 4th of July, launching the rockets from the highest spot around, Pilot Butte. (From Wikopedia: Pilot Butte is an extinct volcano located in Bend, Oregon. It is a cinder cone which rises nearly 500 feet above the surrounding plains. Bend is one of the very few cities in the United States with volcanoes located within their boundaries.) [I did not know that. But shouldn't it be within its boundaries?]

Anyway.The sparks inevitably land on the dry sagebrush on the side of the Butte and "the sucker lights up with flames" as Jen put it in her last comment. The show is ended early and the firefighters do their thing.

And inevitably, the headline of the local paper the next day is:
Fireworks start blaze on Butte!



Thanks to the monkey, Chris K, for this photo that I stole from him.

Blogcation

(If trend-spotters can name the time-honored practice of staying home "staycation," I can coin the term "blogcation." I may not be the first but I'm laying claim.) That's why you haven't heard from me for a few days. I'm at our annual family reunion at my parents' house, before the rest of the family shows up.

I'm currently in the western hills of North Carolina (which sounds a lot more scenic than it is, IMO) after a disastrous journey that included an unplanned drive to Portland, an unplanned overnight in Atlanta (paid by me, not the airline) and a lot of chicken nuggets. Plus, the only way to return to Portland (and our car) is leaving the morning of the 4th. Whatever, we're here.

The weather here is much nicer than usual, i.e. my hair is only twice its normal size, not 4 times, and I'm not "glowing" with sweat. I've remembered the secret to hanging out with family in the South:  gin. So I'm cool. Henry is enjoying the pool and awaiting the cousins. I'm enjoying the quiet before the hordes. [Who I can't wait to get here, if you're one of my siblings. Really!]

What are your plans for the 4th? Are fireworks involved? As customary in Bend, we're waiting to see if the Butte catches fire again, but that's another post.