OPINION: Tripping hazards, astigmatism go hand in foot

May 20—I saw a sign a few years ago in an office in Tulsa, where renovations were underway: "Tripping hazard." I suspected it was intended especially for me.

When you have astigmatism, tripping is no laughing matter. This is a condition wherein your eyeball is sort of flattened, and it distorts the way you see things. If you have it, you're born with it, but it doesn't always affect you in adverse ways. It's hereditary, and sadly, my son inherited it from me — and his is even worse than mine.

But if you're "astigmatic," it gets worse as you get older. In high school, I was a baton twirler, and I was pretty good at it. I'm not sure I could do it as well now — both because of the eyeball problem, and because of the psoriatic arthritis. I still have the baton, but not so much the skill. Trust me when I say this sort of degeneration isn't pleasant. I'd be depressed about it, except I don't have time to be depressed. I'm "only" 62. That seems quite old to many folks in my orbit, but I'm still in the workforce, so I have to try to maintain. I have at least another eight years before I can call it quits.

But back to the tripping. I have several millennial friends and colleagues, and their understanding of that particular word — which could be a noun, adjective or verb — has to do with their reading about, and perceptions of, what happened in the '60s. I remember watching a special many years ago when George Harrison, during an interview, chuckled about LSD, and said its bark was far worse than its bite. For those who don't get the significance, George was a Beatle, and if you don't know what a Beatle is, you might as well move along; there's nothing to see here.

I made this comment the other day at the NSU natatorium — that is, the room housing the swimming pool: "I have a tripping problem." One woman took me aside and said, "You want to be careful what you say, or people will think you're dropping acid." The fact that she said "dropping" instead of "using" or "taking" suggested to me that she herself had been part of the so-called "Summer of Love" (circa 1969). That had something to do with Woodstock or Monterey or some other festival, with Haight-Ashbury and love beads mixed in.

Tripping, for me, has no relation to illicit drugs. It has to do with the fact that I can no longer judge distance when I look down. Which means I can't judge the depth of stairs, or an incline, or where an object I might encounter is specifically located. In other words, I could trip over a ball of my own hair that I had just extracted from a brush.

If I kept a diary, I would be noting about a dozen things upon which I had tripped, each day. When I started writing this column — on Friday afternoon, May 13 — my most recent tripping incident had involved two hangers my husband had left behind in the hotel room in which we were staying. Hangers are among the most common tripping hazards for those with astigmatism. And hangers lying on the floor are common in our home, because I cobble together my husband's wardrobe for the next couple of weeks. Once he pulls the shirt and trousers from the closet, he's likely to drop the hangers on the floor.

Last week, I tripped over a balled-up piece of paper. I have tripped over pieces of cat poop, even the soft variety. If any kind of bag is on the floor and it has a strap, I'll get my foot caught in the strap, and down I'll go. I've tripped several times over a coiled-up belt of my husband's. Once, an empty beer bottle got in my way, and I watched it roll as I was on my way to the floor. The cat had to leap into the air to avoid it. Power cords and various cables have almost been my demise a number of times.

I almost broke a knee when my foot got snarled in a balled-up white T-shirt my husband had left on the floor. That particular shirt had been turned into a nest by the whitecat, who had earlier laid a couple of brown eggs. When I stepped on an empty vitamin bottle earlier this year, I was able to catch my balance before I broke a hip — and at my age, a broken hip is about as bad as a broken leg on a race horse: In either case, the victim might have to be put down.

The worst tripping hazard for me lately has been a pair of soft, tan houseslippers my husband acquired as part of his late father's "estate." He leaves those things everywhere. I stepped on one a few weeks back, and tripped up the stairs, and almost landed on the cat, who had been lounging on top of the other shoe on one of the steps.

As for the cat himself, anyone who is owned by a feline understands that cats will either dart out in front of you or try to "lead" you and then suddenly stop. My husband isn't inclined to tripping, but I have occasionally heard a curse and a screech, when the animal has become an obstacle and either sent Chris airborne or suffered the indignity of a stepped-on tail.

Perhaps the oddest trip-trap I've experienced was a virtually flat puddle of cat barf. You know a person has a real problem if she trips over cat puke instead of stepping in it. In case you're wondering if I've confused the word "trip" with "slip," think again. Even a gum wrapper could put me in a wheelchair.