As I get older and continue to deteriorate with a myriad of small problems, losing visual acuity, pain in every joint from arthritis, loss of hearing, peeling skin eaten up by psoriasis (or possibly eczema, depending on which doctor I choose to believe,) and bouts of serious forgetfulness, I am challenged to find ways to make it through the day and still do what I intended to do.
Yesterday I struggled to publish a book because these small problems created numerous proofreading errors that never used to exist. I am not a fast typist, but I tend to be very accurate. Yet, slips, glitches, and misspelllings were everywhere when I tried to submit the manuscript electronically. (The misspellling in that last sentence was intentional as a humorous irony. I know it’s not funny, but that’s a mental glitch I can’t overcome too.) To make matters worse, I have two computers to use for that. My new laptop which I am not fully used to yet, as I am using it now and repeatedly correcting errors as I go. (Apparently not correcting incomplete sentence fragments.) And my old laptop which inexplicably deleted it’s entire spell-checking program overnight one night last week. I tried re-loading Grammarly, but couldn’t do it since key program parts that come with every word-processor are now apparently fried. (And it doesn’t help that I keep forgetting to go back and make complete sentences out of fragments.)
Self-Examination has always been a feature of my inner, mental life. I keep count of psoriasis (possibly eczema) sores because some of them have to be specially treated, covered, or peeled in order to heal. One gets infected out of control, and diabetic that I am, I could lose an arm or leg… or even life. I also take note of some of my mental sores or infections. I try hard not to think like a Republican, but I find myself suddenly being grumpy, judgmental, or impossible to be around over money matters, dog-walking, or the opinions of others that I have strong opposing opinions about. I even worry that since I have been thinking more and more like a nudist in my personal philosophy (technically a Christian-existentialist-with-Stoic-leanings sort of nudist) I have not been holding back in reusing nude artwork too much in this blog, possibly over-using child-nudes which symbolize my own innocence and honesty in my mind, but symbolize perversion and possible pedophilia in conservative minds. I don’t care what other people think about me, and yet… as a survivor of a cruel childhood sexual assault, I am sensitive to certain conclusions other people probably jump to. I will try to use drawings of naked people less.
Driving has become a serious area of fudging to get by. I can’t see well enough to pass that vision test when next I have to renew my license. I almost ran over a bicyclist walking his bike across the street simply because he was in shadow emerging into bright sunlight and I was unable to adjust my vision fast enough to even see him. I ended up getting a single-fingered salute that I seriously earned. (We both had the right-of-way because I was turning the corner and we both had a green light.) I have to nearly press my face against the windshield in order to see through sun glare or low light conditions. I swear I will not drive when I no longer can see well enough, but that day is coming soon if it is not already now. My son drives for me as much as possible. But he is planning to go off to Air Force boot camp in a couple of months.
Life is definitely changing in large ways due to small things. I have to look at everything from both sides now and make necessary adjustments. Mark Twain was about my age when the police had to escort him home for walking down the street naked. Except he didn’t. It was actually Sam Clemens that did that. But, like me, he was having trouble remembering that too.