This week my husband went to see the doctor. On TV. I’m not kidding: his physical exam was done via television. So yeah, he “saw” the doctor, who happened to be 2,000 miles away; and yesterday his test results arrived in the mail.
It makes me think of that lame cartoon “The Jetsons.” When I was a kid, visual phones were a pipedream; it was a figment of someone’s imagination that you’d stand in one place and the floor would move you to your airline terminal; it was preposterous that you’d push a button, and a minute later a door would open with your dinner. But look at us: we’re there!
If you haven’t seen it, don’t miss the video tour of the International Space Station. Oh, and that one where—via satellite—the astronaut sings and plays guitar with a band on earth. These are amazing times. (I’m trying not to think of the negative ramifications of all this technology; COME, LORD JESUS.)
Next month I’m having oral surgery. The recuperation phase is a few seconds—the time it takes to pop a couple of ibuprofen. When I was younger, I always said, “Nobody’s ever using a laser on me!” My, how times have changed.
I’m glad things haven’t gone completely nuts. Yesterday, our son-in-law brought his chain saw and pruned a couple of our trees (yeah, I know we were late; it’s not his fault). There was something comforting about shuffling all those branches with gloved hands, hearing the Whirr-r-r-r-rrr! of the saw, and the faint aroma of a mixture of oil and gas. Having so much of our days connected to PC’s, Handhelds, and GPS, it’s nice to know there are a few out there who still like to roll up their sleeves.