Wednesday, February 26, 2014

Blurrrrred Lines

So my eye ball is driving me mad.  Pulling and paining on a daily basis.  The great news is according to the eye clinic my "eye turn" has taken a turn for the better and I've been sent off to my regular eye doctor for a full eye exam.  It turns out that I've reached the dreaded, middle age, according to my eye doctor,  I need glasses, bifocals to be exact.  Bifocals?  Yup, that's middle age I guess, and a little thing called a brain tumour.  However, due to my balance issues I can't "hide" mine with invisible ones, nope, I need the bifocals with the lines like Grandma had.  I haven't figured out exactly how I feel about that but I have figured out that I'm mentally refusing the blurred lines.  I think I will opt for two pairs, one for general seeing and one for reading,  Of course both will be sporting a plastic prism for a bit longer.  If after a few months of using the new glasses my eye still needs the prism they will have the prism actually etched right into the glass.  I'm hoping to kick the plastic prism to the curb, but I was also hoping to do that months ago.

So as shocking as the word "bifocal" is, middle age was a term that I didn't like hearing.  It's like a right of passage when you get into your 40's.  I've stewed over this term as it's not the first time I've written about hearing the words "well when you reach your age".  I've stewed about it because you just don't hear that at 39 but look out a day over 40, you get slammed with reality.

As my next birthday fast approaches, I've been thinking and I realize that "middle age" is not a privilege that everyone gets. Not everyone gets to whine about a new grey hair or the ever deepening "crows feet".  So I'm going to embrace the words, rather then cringe as they spill from the next Doctor's mouth.  Yes, I am middle age, I have grey hair and lots of wrinkles and aren't I lucky!  I get the privilege of another birthday and I am beyond excited about that.  I'm also excited about birthday cake, it's my favorite, I guess the pocket book will determine if I'm looking at it through clear glasses or blurred lines.

Wednesday, February 5, 2014

On Line Foot Prints

Death, it's not something we talk about until it happens, at least not for most people.  I've thought about it a lot in the past year and a bit.  Not because I thought I was going to die, but because I know I'm going to die and so are you.  Now before you get yourself all worked up and think I'm suicidal put the phone down and hear what I have to say.  You are going to die just like me but sometimes, something makes us think a little more about it, like, I don't know, maybe a brain tumour.  A personal directive is something I never thought I would be filling out at the age of 40, but I did.  Now heading for my 42nd birthday I'm alive a kicking and very grateful for that, but that doesn't mean that death isn't always in the back of my mind.

What has me thinking about it a bit more lately is reading posts on social media about the loss of another young person.  Post such as, gone to soon or I'm in shock, had me thinking that these post aren't about the person who died or their family but about the person who posted it.  You the "poster" of such vague words are looking for attention.  "Who's gone to soon", "this can't be good", "what's going on?" are the responses people write, which in turn the "poster" leaves the world hanging in suspense.  Yes I understand that you may not want to say who or what due to privacy, then take that privacy one step further and share your shock in private messages or to the family.  I'm sure we are all guilty of it, but it doesn't make it right.

I began to think, if I died of my brain tumour tomorrow how would I feel if there were post about me floating around in a vague manner.  It would be weird, mostly because I'm alive right now to think about it.  Since I am alive to write this down I ask that you just don't do that.  Nothing infuriated me more then finding out that someone posted what T Jay wrote, word for word about me on their Facebook account, as if they were the one by my side, without even a consideration of how I might feel about that.  Having brain surgery is a very private thing, in which I would expect that only MY friends would have the right to know how I was doing, not a bunch of strangers.  AHH but that is the thing with social media isn't it...share share share and before you know it, strangers are hearing private personal information.  I'm doing it right now and have been for some time with this blog, sharing to the world my struggles, my battles, my triumphs with this brain tumour.  However, I have made that decision for myself.

Yesterday for those who are on Facebook, they came out with a little video for their users to see their life events since they joined in honor of their 10th birthday.  I watched mine, very well done, made me cry, got me thinking.  Look at my online foot print, there forever, just like this blog.  It's kind of like being naked, however, not in pictures but in words.  They say a picture is worth a thousand words, I say true, however, use your words to be clear.  I don't want vague words spread about me when I die, be clear if you must post.  On the anniversary of a old school friend's death today I wonder how I didn't know 8 years ago that he passed away.  I think because I wasn't connected to social media of any kind back then, if I was, I would have known.  Now his sister, who I have reconnected with through social media asks something so simple today, do something kind in Shane's memory.  She has used her words to be precise and for that I thank her.

I pray everyday that I get to live to 100 like I've always said I would, but if I don't please don't beat around the bush.  "so sad that Kelly passed away, or did you hear of Kelly's passing" I don't care if you say so glad that crazy women finally kicked the bucket.  But please please please be to the point, you will drive me crazy from my deathly slumber if you don't.  (Type A personalities think they have control even from Heaven)

Life is short, too short for perfectly clean houses, too short to hold anger or grudges (I need to release mine from the past two weeks) to short to use the term "someday" that someday is today, go be kind, go be honest, go leave an amazing online foot print because the ones in the sand wash away.