My mother tells me that as people get older, their visits to doctors increase exponentially. I’m getting older, but the doctors I’m visiting on a regular basis are the dogs’. There are biannual trips to the veterinary ophthalmologist to check Theo’s remaining eye. There are his recurrent ear infections that I pride myself on having “totally under control” when in fact I do not. There is his Cushing’s disease, which requires periodic blood work; and there are dental cleanings and vaccinations and well dog check-ups in between.
Lately, Theo has started wandering, getting stuck in odd spots in the house and going to the front door to find me when I’m standing behind him. So we went back to the vet about his mental condition. He is now on a medication to help him regain some of his cognitive footing. In response, I seem to have lost some of my own.
It happened in increments, like weight gain, or an addiction to “Shark Tank.” First I was fighting (aloud) with my computer over updating to High Sierra. Next I was sending out Word files devoid of content. This wouldn’t be such a big deal if I didn’t have assignments due or if, as a friend suggested, “Everyone expects to get a few files that are senseless and corrupt.”
What? No they don’t. When I get a file that is senseless and corrupt, I do not think, “Oh, well, that’s Microsoft Word for you.” I think the person using it might need medication for cognitive footing.
Following my loss of control over the tools of my trade, I attempted to hang a shelf in my home office, a feat which first required that I find the electric drill (an hour to “discover” it in plain sight in my husband’s office) and then required that I remove the battery from the drill in order to charge it (half a day, two broken fingernails, two YouTube tutorials).