Friday, April 23, 2021
I slept well last night. The anger had subsided. Thank God. I may not be able to change the situation, but I don't have to invest in its negativity.
On my walk this morning, I ran into my morning exercise buddy, Tom. I can recognize the sound of his footfall from a distance. I hadn't run into him in a while. I told him I wondered what had happened. He said he thought I might be wondering and hoped he would run into me today. He was away in Colorado helping his pregnant daughter move into a larger house in anticipation of the baby. Tom was running bare-chested for the first time in months. He said he started out with a shirt but was able to take it off as he ran. I only put on one sweatshirt instead of my usual two. However, I felt I could have used a second one. I wasn't freezing, but I was chilled.
I had an appointment with the Kaiser eye doctor at 9:30. There was no wait today. I went right in. The nurse had to do a cursory eye exam and test me for glaucoma. I was shocked at how bad my vision was in my left eye versus my right. I was also pleased with how well I did with the glaucoma test. I warned the nurse that my reflexes were overactive, and I couldn't keep my left eye open for the test. I did brilliantly. However, just before she did the test, I used one of my tricks to control that response. I turned my little me around and had it address every cell in the back of my brain, telling it that no harm could come to my eyes with this test. Bam! Perfect control.
Then I met with the ophthalmologist. She asked me if she should address the macular pucker or the drooping eyelids. We decided the eyelids would be better since I wanted to speak to the doctor who would do the pucker surgery again before deciding what to do. Would this operation improve my eyesight? Was the risk too high to deal with it? I have one good eye. It's not like those who suffer from macular degeneration, where both eyes go at the same time. I suppose both eyes could have a pucker.
The doctor and I turned our attention to the drooping eyelids. She determined that my eyelids did indeed droop. I was entitled to surgery, and she told me my options. I could have a small slit made just above the eyebrow. While the scar would be small, so would the impact. Then she could make a significant cut above the eyebrow, take out a patch of skin and reattach the remaining flesh. That would leave more of a scar. She had no pictures to show me how that might look. Finally, I could have the job done by a plastic surgeon. I chose that for the time being. The problem with plastic surgery is that it will reduce the size of my forehead. I have a tiny one to start out with. While my eyes may look better, I will look even more like a Cro-Magnon. I will have to see. As I have been thinking about it, my best bet may be the least invasive. I will get the least improvement in the droop, but it will be something, and I'll get to keep the little bit of forehead I have. Meantime, I have a referral to a plastic surgeon.
When I left Kaiser, I headed down own to the DMV kiosk in Safeway. Ha! Ha! I assumed someone would be manning it. No! no! It's just a machine. I need to check on the amount I'm being charged. My bill is over $40 more than it was last year. I have to go down to the DMV; you can't get any information over the phone from these folks.
My next stop was the engraving shop on Kaiwi St. I need a plaque for Mike's gravestone. I walked in with the koa box that had held the box with Mike's ashes. The guy asked, "Can I help you?" Yes, I'm looking for a plaque for a gravestone. He said, "Did you order one?" And that was just for openers. This guy was a jumpy as anyone I've ever run into. It was hard to communicate with him. I did get through.
He said definitely do not get a brass plaque; it would be tarnished within three days. He recommended either a plaque made of marble or bronze. The engraved marble plaque would cost in the $150 to $200 range. The bronze plaque would cost in the $1000 range. He will have to send it to a foundry on the mainland. The engraving will cost about $900. The rest is shipping costs.
I had a 2:30 appointment with E. He had nothing to work on. I asked him about his anger toward his mom. She has worked hard to be a good parent for the last 10 to 12 years, but before that . . . His parents were adolescents who were not in a relationship with each other. As I have heard the story, E is a result of a drunken event at a party. Neither of his parents was a responsible adult when he was an infant. He's lucky he survived. I can't remember all the steps we took. What came out was he was not willing to release his anger toward his mom for all the problems she had created in his life. I told him that, sadly, his anger accomplished nothing good. It came to me that he thought he was at fault for their behavior. There must have been something wrong with him. Self-blaming is often called magical thinking by therapists; at least, it used to be called that. Hopefully, it no longer is. The assumption was that children think that because it means they were in control of the situation. My interpretation is different, not to say there are no aspects of it that aren't invested in control.
My theory is that self-blame and its partner in crime, shame, are survival responses. Not conforming to the expectations of the tribe, the adults present, in hunter-gatherer days, meant our lives were in danger. Children who were considered different could not be tolerated. Tribal unity was a survival strategy, much as discipline is a survival strategy in the military. Everyone must play their role, or everyone is in danger. Self-blame and shame warn us that we're out of sync with our group.
The next step with E after recognizing he would never think it was the infant's fault if he observed a similar situation with another child and their parents. His need to be angry at his mom started to dissolve when he could accept that the situation hadn't been his fault. He didn't have to continue his attack on her, proving she was the terrible person rather than him.
I. canceled because of a change in her soccer practice schedule. It would be nice if her mom told me earlier.
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Musings:
People have different ways of resolving conflicting situations. One way is to decide that one person gets to do whatever they want while the other gets infrequent veto rights. There is never any discussion; it is always one way or the other—period end of sentence. I have come to understand that people like that see all discussion as fights.
Mike and I saw negotiation as the way to resolve differences. I don't think I could live with someone who didn't. You toss your ideas back and forth until you come to a mutually comfortable solution. Discussion has two objects: one, to make the other person understand your point of view; second, to understand the other person's point of view. As I present my ideas, I am giving the other person material for understanding how they can modify their argument to convince me of their point of view.
While visiting on the east coast, I asked my nephew what value he saw in traveling. Did he learn anything new? I kept pushing him to give me a good explanation. His sister asked, "Why are you trying to convince him?" She thought I was trying to convince him that travel was a worthless activity. My response, "I'm not trying to convince him; I'm trying to get him to convince me. My poor husband would have loved to travel more, but I don't care for it. I'm hoping David will help me see it differently." The response was dead silence and the end of all discussion.
Mike and I saw our back and forth as a way of arriving at a solution neither one of us had thought of that was better than either of our individual solutions. I heard a story recently about the Wright brothers. They argued nonstop, screaming at each other. It was that back and forth which helped them create the first functioning airplane. The push and pull on each other till that plane took on its shape.
I also heard a story involving Freddie Mercury. He had visions of going out on his own and getting to do what he wanted to without having to deal with the other three bandmates of Queen. When he did, he discovered that while he got to do what he wanted, he didn't like it as much. We refine our ideas in the friction generated with others. So exciting- as long as it is someone who is also into co-creation. When you're stuck with someone who must have it their way- what a nightmare. No fun, no fun at all.
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