Uber, Robots and Nonbinary People

Remember Ms. Social Worker from one of my last posts? The one who fell in an exercise class and went off to ER in an ambulance? Over the next five days she fell five times, went to ER twice and on neither trip have they found an explanation for her falls. Last night at dinner she got it into her head that maybe the falls were from an UTI and she wanted to go to an Urgent Care to get tested. She doesn’t drive and she has no relatives living in town. I haven’t driven after dark in ten years and wasn’t about to start now by putting myself in charge of a woman who is almost more black and blue than white these days. So instead I offered to go with her in an Uber so she wouldn’t be alone. 

I’ve never been in an Uber before but just that afternoon I’d set up an account and downloaded the app because both times Ms. Social Worker went to ER she had to come back home in an Uber because no one here who offered to pick her up was answering their phones to an unknown number. She’s been using the service for a couple of years so other than the high cost of getting around that way, it wasn’t that big of a deal for her to leave the hospital in an Uber. I thought about being in her shoes and it would be a big deal for me thus I set up the Uber account and hope I never have to use it. I figured if I’m ever in that situation my brain would be too fogged up to jump through those sign-up hoops and boy was I right. After being at Urgent Care for two and a half hours Ms. Social Worker couldn’t figure out how to use the damn app she’d been using for two years. I was starting to panic. I couldn’t read on her tiny phone to see if I could figure it out and I didn’t want to order a ride with mine for fear we’d both be successful at the same time and two cars would show up. Finally after fifteen whole minutes she got it to work and then she claimed she had to charge half the ride to me. Say what? Why? 

Both our to and from Uber drivers where in their early 30s---big, dark black guys who were super nice to us granny types and I got to sit in the front seat with both because their cars where too small to get my friend’s walker in the trunks. It went in the back seat with her. What is it with black guys and gold chains? Watching baseball this summer I noticed most of the black players were decked out with gold chains that I’m sure where real gold. I’m not so sure I can say that about those on the Uber drivers and if they are no wonder the fares are so high. Ms. Social Worker claims taking Ubers is cheaper than owning your own car and she might be right on that. Even though I don’t drive much anymore I dread the day when I might have to give it up. Don’t we all dread that day as we age? I dread it but I won't fight it. But maybe you’re like so many seniors who refused to admit their driving skills and/or health dictates they're a danger on the roads. And before someone asks, assisted living gets transportation here on the continuum care campus but not in the independent living section. Our Resident Council hopes to change that. Have I told you lately how happy I am that I opted out of being part of that council? They do love their meetings. 

The latest thing the Council came up with is a contest to name our two new robots. The food service bought them for an ungodly amount of money. I can’t remember if it was fifteen thousand a piece to buy them or to rent them but we’ve only had them a week and already one ran into a cart of dishes and crashed a lot of them to the floor and soup gets slopped over the edges of the bowls. For the contest we have to pay five bucks for each pair of entries we suggest but the winner will get half the jackpot and the other half goes to the benevolent fund. The entries will get voted on by mostly the people in management with the guy who came up with the idea being the only resident to vote. I’m going to enter Elvis and Priscilla plus Luke Skywalker and Princess Leia (Luke and Leia for short) and Wilma and Fred Flintstone. 

One day at lunch the server announced that the robots arrived and someone asked if they were boys or girls and he said “One is male and other is nonbinary.” You would not believe the argument/debate that happened afterward and continued for over an hour when one of our more ‘colorful’ residents said she didn’t believe in that "nonbinary crap." 

"A person is male or female and that’s it!” she said in no uncertain terms.

I told her she needed a biology lesson and that there are people born with the genitalia of one sex but the brain wiring of the opposite sex---usually looking male but being wired as a female. I had recently read a research article at 23 & Me about how that happens in the development of a fetus and I explained it to her in great detail. Two others at the table backed me up and 4-5 others seemed fascinated by stuff they hadn't heard before. Ms. Colorful was her normal closed-mind self and went on to blame child sexual abuse on society for making up new words up like 'nonbinary.' She’s a Fox and Trump fan so, of course, that makes sense to her. I had a really good time debating that day because it wasn’t politics yet I could talk back to her in a knowledgeable way I wouldn’t do with current events. And I was having a good 'word' day speech wise.

But it is a topic more current than I thought it was because a few days later when I was at Urgent Care with my friend the form she filled out asked her to check a box: male, female or nonbinary. I had told Ms. Colorful she was a bully for not acknowledging that people with ambiguous genitalia exist and that ‘nonbinary’ is just a word for something that’s been around since time began. But I’ve got to admit I was shocked to see it as a choice on a medical form. It made me laugh out loud.  

Living in a sandbox full of fully developed people with all our personality tics, foibles and life experiences sure can be interesting in a walk-through-a-mine-field kind of way. Remind me someday to write about the guy living here who is a big prude baby who put his hands over his ears when anything that isn't sunshine and rainbows is mentioned. ©

Who’s the Scary Cat Now!

The month of May might be known for bringing flowers but at my house it also brings the dog’s yearly vet appointment to get caught up on his shots/vaccines and to get the ‘diet talk’ about him needing to loss a pound or two. Doctors are all the same, aren’t they. In Levi’s case the vet talk usually goes something like this: “One pound will lead to two pounds and pretty soon it will start effecting his all over health.” Ya, doc, I know it. But have you ever lived with a stubborn schnauzer who wants his treat when he wants it? Walking him more sounds easy, doesn’t it, except Levi won’t go out in the rain and I won’t go out in snowy or icy weather. I used let him run in the back yard on a long clothesline but my back lot line neighbor acquired three pit bulls two years ago and only one is chained up---presumably the one that has already killed a cat and attacked another neighbor’s dog. But Levi didn’t get the ‘diet talk’ this year because he actually lost his two pounds and now I’m mad at the little bugger for not sharing his weight loss secret with me.

This routine appointment drained $452.43 out of my check book for all his shots/vaccines including two required for licensing, a canine flu shot, CBC blood work, fecal check, ear infection treatment, three months’ worth of flea, tick and heart worm meds and apoquel pills for itchiness when he needs it for a plugged saliva gland. On the good side, this was the first time in three years his teeth didn’t need cleaning but they aren’t going to let that money get away. They want to re-check his teeth in October and I will let them because he can’t afford to lose any more teeth to gum disease. And I'm taking bets on whether or not his CBC blood work will turn something up they'll want to treat. He's a senior citizen now and those years turns us all into cha-ching machines for the medical communities.

The month of May also brings my yearly eye doctor appointment. My eyes are tired and bother me from the minute I get up to the minute I go to bed but the doctor keeps telling me eyes are healthy and my sight hasn’t changed enough to bother getting a new prescription in three years. And my cataracts aren’t big enough---yet---for him to want to remove them. “Artificial tears,” he says, “use them up to 20 times a day.” I asked if they have a car service for cataract surgeries like the slick, new eye surgery ‘assembly line’ in town advertises. Not having any children who are obligated by love or guilt to help with transportation to and from cataract surgery is a huge concern for me. The eye doctor said there is a service in town that will pick you up, stay with you and bring you back home for any medical procedure. "Costs a royal fortunate," he said, "but it’s an option to file away in your back pocket." You can’t just call an Uber or Lyft for rides to medical procedures because they require that you have someone in the waiting room in case of emergencies. I guess having a total stranger you just met two hours ago qualities.

Have you warmed up to using Uber or Lyft? We spent our childhoods being warned about getting into cars with strangers and the only time I ever did it I got raped so now I’m supposed to unlearn all those warning that were drilled into us growing up? Granted, no one is going to want to do bodily harm to an pudgy old woman in sensible shoes…unless they're working as a ‘body procurer’ for a modern-day Leonardo da Vinci. Did you know he dissected bodies in the dead of night to learn human anatomy? He started out paying grave robbers to supply him but when they got caught taking a shortcut and helping a vagrant into the next world, his new 'body procurers' would get unclaimed bodies from the city until Leonardo finally worked his way up to getting a doctor at a hospital to give him access to cadavers. Anyway, back on topic. A few years ago I thought I was ready to try Uber when my arm was in a sling then an Uber driver in a town near-by killed six people and wounded two others and in between him shooting random people he was picking up Uber customers! At least with the medical patient courier service my eye doctor told me about I have to believe they go through a thorough screening. If not, don’t tell me. Let me live in blissful ignorance because the odds are good I may need their service someday.

I’ve turned into a quirky little creature, haven’t I. I’m afraid of my back yard, of dying in a car accident, of falling on the ice, of Italian Renaissance Era body snatchers and a hundred perfectly normal 21st century activities like wearing sleeveless blouses, roller coasters and people who dress up like zombies. Not that I was ever a fearless person in my prime. I never jumped off a dock head first, for example, without knowing how deep the water was. I refused to go sky diving in my 20s or to sit in the front row at the stock car races and I’m pretty sure my scary-cat persona was the reason the guy I was dating at the time broke up with me. But I’ll tell you what I’m not afraid of doing that most of my Gathering Girls pals won’t do. They won’t answer their front doors if someone rings their doorbell. Who’s the scary cat now?  ©