Monday, July 17, 2017

The Oppenheimer Report 7/17/17

Back To Basics
Shauna has been blindsided by a new affliction to add to her constellation of health problems. Possibly a complication from her Crohn’s Disease, she has come down with a painful condition of the eye known as acute iritis. An inflammation of the iris, acute iritis can lead to stabbing pain in the eyes, and it causes extreme sensitivity to light. After seeing the optometrist last week, she is now on a strict regimen of eye medications, including one anti-inflammatory drop which is to be administered once every waking hour. She seems to be on the mend, but of course we’re concerned. Shauna’s sight has been severely compromised by this latest assault. After almost a week of administering three different eye medications, her eyesight has not improved all that much. I never before understood that Crohn’s Disease is an autoimmune illness and, while it often presents as a gastrointestinal problem, it can afflict other parts of the body with similar tissue makeup. This includes the eyes. Just another little sucker punch.

I’ve made some good friends over the years. I’ve lost touch with some of them, and I sometimes wonder where they are. With the emergence of Facebook, I have re-connected with some people I never thought I’d hear from again. I wrote a song recently about an old friend who had lost his way, and ended up in jail for a while. We’ve remained friends and thankfully he has straightened out his life. In the chorus of the song there’s a line that reads: “Old friends are the hardest to deny/ They know the buried secrets we try to hide.” Not all of my friends were well adjusted. Nobody’s perfect, least of all me, but I feel a particularly strong bond with my old neighborhood friends from Buffalo. They knew me back when, and friends  who have known me for that long are like family. They know my history, they’ve watched me go through my many changes; they've shared my joys and my sorrows. Shauna knows me that well, but not all that many of my friends do.

Last weekend, sleep deprived and a little down about Shauna’s latest medical problems, I was watching TV when I heard the message alert go off on my cell phone. It was my best friend Bob, texting me. Earlier in the day I’d been on the phone with him, joking about buying a pontoon boat and  surrendering to the next stage of my geriatric decline. While it was a tongue in cheek conversation, the subtext is that time is passing too quickly, and I for one am anxious about the future. The text was a photo of an old outboard motor, which very much resembled one I owned when I was a kid. Ironically, in the larger outboard in the background of the photo was very similar to my reliable old Yamaha, about which I spoke in last week's report.There were three or four texts back and forth, wherein we discussed the differences and similarities of the photographed motor to the one I’d owned. Bob has been my friend since the days when I was that kid putting around in an aluminium dinghy powered by that motor. It’s hard to explain why, but his connection to that past was comforting to me.

I’ve lived my mostly charmed life with little regard for the passage of time, and yet, pass it has. While it’s not over yet, hopefully far from it, my life is decidedly in the second semester, and much more complicated than it used to be. As the hour hand spins wildly out of control, and I feel powerless to slow it all down, it is sometimes comforting to get a message from an old friend. Sometimes a little perspective can go a long way to relieving the anxiousness. It doesn’t take all that much, just a simple communication with someone who shares a mutual history; the comforting delusion that there is some order in the chaotic journey from there to here. While indulging in a moment of shameful self-pity last weekend, I got a text message from my friend Bob; a photograph of an early 60’s Johnson 5 ½ HP outboard motor. The message read: “Back to basics”, and it made me smile. 
             
       - Written by Jamie Oppenheimer c 2017 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

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