Tag doctor

Medicine in the time of Covid

Angel Ackerman 1 Comment

I slept this morning until 8:30.

I never do that. I think the animals had started a plan as to what to do if I were dead. The three-legged cat had slowly but surely opened my bedroom door. The kittens came in and hung out in my open windows.

Last night, the teenager and I watched most of the documentary A K A Jane Roe on Hulu. The format distressed the teen as they presented Norma McCorvey’s story in her words and in the words of others (including the reverend who might be seen as her biggest adversary in the beginning)—including historical footage.

The teen found it disjointed and hard to ascertain what was “truth,” so I said with a sigh that I guess I don’t have to worry about her becoming a journalist.

We had a fantastic discussion about “when life begins,” eugenics, abortion and patriarchy and then had a little passive-aggressive disagreement about what happened to the potato chips. (Two binge eaters in the house = bad news. By the way, I’ve lost a pound. Not enough, but it’s a great start.)

This morning, the doctor’s office called me about my blood pressure check scheduled for Tuesday. They wanted to know if I still planned on coming. I said it didn’t matter to me as they had already refilled my medication.

It’s a shame my appointment isn’t today as then they might have gotten a good blood pressure reading.

And they won’t be happy about the weight I’ve gained.

So they asked me every question under the sun about my health and possibility for Covid-19 symptoms. They confirmed my medical insurance. Asked if I had a mask and if I’d be coming alone. They asked what I drive.

I am to complete my check-in online.

They will call Monday afternoon to confirm my medications.

On Tuesday when I arrive I am to call from my car. The physician’s assistant will escort me into the office when they are ready for me.

Medicine in the era of Covid-19.

A short commentary on near-sightedness

Angel Ackerman Leave a comment

I recently got new glasses. A friend recently had eye surgery. Another friend has always been blind. I inherit my bad eyes from my mother, who sometimes says when she is in the shower she can’t see her toes, only fleshy feet.

Unlike when you go to the dentist or the gynecologist, going to the eye doctor seems to create a community interest in your eyesight. Sure, asking if your check up went okay or if you have any cavities is okay but people ask more questions about the eye doctor…

Did he dilate your eyes? Did you get new glasses? Did your eyes get worse?

And of course when you get new glasses people stare at you, some not quite able to figure it out.

I had one work supervisor exclaim, “you have glasses on today!”

I had to remind her that I wear glasses everyday.

But people with good vision can’t often grasp what near sighted people see. If I take my glasses off and look at a Christmas tree, the colors and glittery ornaments blur together. Almost like fireworks in a conical swirl.

This morning, I took my glasses off to put on my sweater. I set them on the bed on my jacquard comforter and then I couldn’t see them. I had to grope the bedclothes. They were perfectly camouflaged in the pattern of the duvet cover.