Okay, in the interest of honesty, I must confess. I chickened out. I didn't go to the National Mall. The weather.com forecast and my past experiences told me to stay home and watch TV. Yes, M expressed her, um... disappointment. and I kept a nervous eye on the dry sidewalk all afternoon. *gulp*

Thankfully, around 5:30 PM, a half hour before the scheduled concert, it began to rain steadily. It didn't pour down like a storm, and there were no bursts of thunder as forecast, but the rain was steady enough for about an hour that I am sure we would have had a very uncomfortable time on the Mall. Now, if I was a young whipper snapper, like most of you--and young means anyone under 42--then the rain would have meant little. But a fifty-something and bad weather are not a good match.

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Today is the 232nd year of our nation, the 232nd year since the signing of the Declaration of Independence. I kinda pre-celebrated by watching the HBO special John Adams. I don't get HBO but it went to DVD a couple of weeks ago and I devoured all seven hour long episodes in a few days. I thought it was very good, although I have to admit to being a bit of a fan of historical movies, and I mean historical. I'm not much for new history, like 9/11. That isn't history to me; it's recent news.

In any event, I found John Adams quite entertaining and I was rather surprised to see Paul Giamatti actually pull it off. I have to admit I was skeptical. My image of Giamatti is closer to his character in American Splendor and Sideways. Although perhaps I shouldn't have sold him so short after his performance in Cinderella Man, although it was a supporting role. So if you are into US history and you enjoy watching the History Channel, then perhaps you will like this one too.

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I have this incurable habit of going off on a tangent. Many of my students know this and seem to gleefully lead me astray in class with unrelated questions to minimize actual study time. I want to say that I realize what they're doing but allow them to do so anyway as way to give them an academic break and relieve the day-in and day-out stress of college life just a bit. Unfortunately, the reality is that I just like to talk and simply lose track of my thoughts. My inability to stay on topic is apparent here as well.

Now where was I? Oh yeah, my cornea....

Previously...

"Perhaps I had been fooling myself all along. I mean, I had come to
terms with my lack of depth perception, but the adjustments in the
brain more than made up for the visual acuity I needed to function in
everyday life. I felt that I was able to enjoy anything and everything
life had to offer. I was wrong. But, hey!--and maybe I'm just trying to
rationalize my situation--3D is not the end all of life. It just seemed
like it would be a little more fun.Unfortunately, it turned out that my vision affected more than my enjoyment of 3D effects. So I had an operation."

Back in 1993, as I was working on my dissertation, I would get severe headaches. My eyes
would tire easily and I came to realize that I was actually reading
texts with only my left eye. Indeed, following the cursor on a computer while editing large portions of texts with only one eye was neither an easy nor a comfortable task.
Doctors told me the only way to fix the problem was to get a cornea
transplant. I did not like the idea of going under the knife, but the headaches were becoming intolerable so I was willing to confront the issue with an open mind. But of course, nothing is easy. There was a waiting list, and for me a rather long one at that. Since I had one
functioning eye, I would perpetually be pushed back--those who could
not see through either cornea due to injury, age or illness were always
bumped up to the front of the line. I was told the wait would be about three years.

However, one doctor offered another
solution--laser surgery. The procedure was called excimer laser surgery, and was being carried out on an experimental basis under the auspices of Japan's Ministry of Health. They were looking for appropriate candidates for trial laser surgeries and I was a good guinea pig since I only needed one eye done--in other words, I guess, if they screwed up the surgery I'd still be able to function. The good news was that the trials had been going on for about a year without any notable issues, and the procedure itself would be cost free. I'd only pay for basic hospital visit co-payments and post-op pharmaceuticals. This sounded like a plan to me, so I agreed and I was sent to Juntendo University Hospital in Tokyo. 

I initially went through a battery of tests: they gave me a physical exam as well as visual tests to determine the health of my eye. I have to admit I found the experience very  interesting. Since the alphabet is not the standard writing form in Japan, the eye chart is a bit different as you might imagine. There are a variety of charts in Japan, some using the Japanese syllabary, others using a combination of numbers and alphabet. But I was particularly stumped by the broken circle chart. You tell the tester where the break is: left, right, top, bottom left, top right, etc. When vision is blurred, it is virtually impossible to tell where the break in the circle is.

Another thing about the Japanese medical system is the waiting. At a local clinic in Japan, there is no such thing as an appointment. You go in, hand your health insurance card to the receptionist and wait... If you're lucky, you'll get seen within half an hour. If not, then you wait... and wait... and wait. Fortunately, at a major university hospital, they actually have appointments. I was skeptical on my first visit to meet the doctor who would perform the surgery, but after handing my insurance card to the receptionist, they called my name in about five minutes. そうこなくちゃ！ Now this is what I'm talkin' about, I thought. They instructed me to go to the next room where... there were more people waiting. Yikes! I sat myself down, glad I had brought a manga just in case. In about 40 minutes--I was almost finished with the manga--they called my name. Whew! I was led into a dim hallway that had cushioned benches lining one side and doorways to small examination rooms lining the other. And yes, there were more patients sitting on the benches waiting! Aargh! I finally figured out the strategy. By moving you from room to room, they create the illusion of movement, of getting closer to your appointment. I finished the manga and decided that next time I should bring a novel. I closed my eyes to rest, maybe even to doze off. Kanzaki-san, Please step in to see Dr. Murakami. It had taken almost an hour and a half to see the doctor. I had many subsequent visits to this hospital, but I learned that this first visit was relatively quick. I can still recall having a 1:30 appointment and after exams and waiting--again--for prescriptions dispensed by the doctor, I'd be lucky to leave by 4 o'clock. The shortest wait was always at the cashiers window. That will be 1500 yen please. I wonder why...

To be cont'd. Next post will definitely be the last.

I took the "how much do you now about dragon ball z and dragon ball gt" quiz and I totally  bombed it. I got 42% out of 100. Of course, I didn't review the material before taking the quiz, but I didn't think I had to. Let this be a lesson to all my students: Always review, regardless of how much you think you know.

Anyway, Dragon Ball was one of my favorite manga. It started to drag on a bit towards the end. And personally, I'm not sure how necessary Dragon Ball GT was. But Dragon Ball up to Majin Bu was fun, and I always looked forward to the next issue. I first picked up a copy of the book back in the summer of 1986. As many of you probably know, Japanese comic books are usually a compilation of the comic that appears in the weekly magazines, like Jump or Magazine. Each weekly carries dozens of titles, each episode ranging anywhere from 12 to 24 pages in length, just long enough for a middle school student to read from one trains station to the next. After about two or three months, when there are enough pages, the publisher compiles them into book form. I don't read every title in any given weekly, so I appreciate the book form. the first title I ever started to collect was Hokuto no ken (Fist of the north star), a great manga if ever there was one. In fact I still have the complete set and I still read them once every 7 or 8 years.

But I digress....

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M's home. I'm so happy, I kept playing Ayaka's song, Okaeri, in my head all day long.

I spent all of Wednesday cleaning the house, but I guess I had let the house go too long unattended. I didn't pass the white glove test. But I don't care. I'm still happy.

Here's a list of stuff she got me.

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I haven't mentioned this, but for the past 5 weeks, M has been in Japan. Her mother was diagnosed with Bronchioloalveolar carcinoma, a kind of lung cancer located in the small vessels of the lungs that function in the oxygenation of our blood (I think). Apparently it is most prevalent in nonsmokers, elderly women and Asians. This makes M's mother three for three, not the kind of batting average you want when dealing with the big C.

Fortunately, they found the disease early and the doctors determined it was operable, even though she's over 80. M went to Japan to help her mother through the operation and for post-op recovery. By all accounts, the operation was successful, and we are, for the time being, relieved. The main issue now is the cost of the operation. Not that we are averse to helping M's mother out, but we did learn recently that the cost is based on a new system of health insurance in Japan.

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Back in the '70s, my friends and I used to enjoy the comedy of George Carlin, who died of heart failure on Sunday, June 22. He was irreverent and represented a lot of what we thought back then.

He started out as a coat and tie comedian in the '60s, appearing on such fair as The Ed Sullivan Show. He was not run-of-the-mill but he didn't really stand out either. One of the characters he would play in his routine was the Hippy Dippy Weatherman.

"Tonight's forecast: Dark. Continued dark tonight, turning to partly light in the morning."

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Our school holds an orientation for incoming freshmen every year, and
yesterday I participated in the Major Fair, an event where new students have the
opportunity to talk to faculty about majors they are interested in pursuing. I was there with a Chinese colleague, a late 20-something, single, and attractive--I am particularly vulnerable to Chinese and Vietnamese women. We had our share of students interested in studying Japanese or Chinese, but as you can imagine, the numbers do not come close to those interested in the "popular" fields such as, say, psychology or political science. Go figure.

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Previously on Onigiriman...

"Back then, it was what it was, and you learned to live with irreparable scars and injuries. Indeed,
after a week or so, my vision seemed to revert to normal. I thought it
had healed itself, as any scar would heal, and I continued on with my
merry summer of '73.

But life, as I was to learn, was neither so simple nor forgiving."

A few years later, I began to notice that I had trouble gauging depth. I had knocked over more than a couple of beers, but I attributed this clumsiness to being drunk. I mean, what else would I attribute it to? Then one day I went to Westwood to see a movie with two of my buddies, Cary and Sam. We were a little early and so we were strolling around the shops and small malls. At one point, we were going to leaving a shopping area that was on the second level. I strode forward and found myself tumbling down a short flight of brick steps. My friends rushed to my side.

"Ray, you okay?" They asked as they helped me get up. "What happened?"

"Yeah, yeah. I'm okay." I assured them as I brushed myself off. But when I looked up I was shocked. "Steps?"

"What are you talking about?"

"I fell down these steps? I don't get it. I could have sworn it was a ramp."

"Dude, if that's a ramp..." But before Sam could finish his sentence, I went up the steps down which I had stumbled. I had to see again what I thought I saw. When I reached the top of the steps, I looked down and in front of me--Huh?--was a short flight of about 5 steps. I don't get it, I said again to myself. I swear I saw a ramp. But when I took astep side ways toward the center, the steps magically turned into a ramp. "Woah!"

"Woah, what?" Cary asked.

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A couple of comments asked about the corneal scar I mentioned in my last post. Well, it isn't as dramatic as Onigiri might imagine--no, I did not get stabbed in the eye like your cousin. Whew! Now that would be a story to tell. My story is much more mundane, but the effects of this "malady" are much more amusing... well as amusing as a handicap can be.

My memory is not perfect, as my regular readers know, but there are photos of me when I was around 5 years old with my right eye patched up with gauze. I vaguely remembered--and I later verified this with my mother--that the eye was suffering from an infection, and I had to wash out my eye two or three times a day. Mom would pour a solution into an eye cup, after which I would face down to place my eye socket onto it and then while holding the cup tightly to my face look upward blinking two or three times as the solution bathed my eye. I hated this ritual, which is probably why I remembered it.

Fast forward 12 years...

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