Is a cliche often heard whenever “Alte Kakers” (pleasantly translated from Yiddish to mean Old Timers. Unpleasantly translated to mean Old S—ters) are gathered. The phrase is self evident. Consider Steve Jobs the founder of Apple Inc, a victim of pancreatic cancer at the age of 56. His net worth of 10.2 billion couldn’t save him from the ashes to ashes, dust to dust route.
Being and staying healthy is truly what matters.
Up to a few months ago, if asked, I rated my health as above average. (At least the physical aspect). Sure, I have aches, pains and muscle soreness. That’s all easily treatable with massive doses of aspirin, IPAs and some reading/rest time. I lead a consistently consistent lifestyle centered around hiking, outdoor time (in warm places), eating a mostly plant based diet, drinking plenty of fluids, (the trifecta of coffee, a gallon plus of water and IPAs.) . At bedtime, I hope for a decent night’s rest minus the nightmares.
Health wise I was rolling along until July 3rd. That’s when the glitches began. I was hustling up a steep trail near Durango while schvitzing (sweating) profusely. The forecast was for heat followed by more heat. I was having no issues on the ascent. Not so much on the downhill return. Three miles from the trailhead, I felt my heartbeat go into tachycardia (too many thump! thump! thumps/minute). Mayday! Mayday! Sambini One is going down! In other words I was about to faint. I voluntarily hit the deck and propped my legs above my head. I drank water and nibbled on a Clif Bar. Eventually I stood up and stumbled down to my Subaru. All while doing my best to stave off a strong desire to pass out.
The above scenario occurred two more times within three months. I ended up seeing a just- graduated from Med School cardiologist. Jeffy! How recently did the Doctor graduate from Med School? Let’s put it this way, when I accidentally brushed by his medical diploma, I smudged the ink. Needless to say, the thought of him performing open heart surgery on me was off the operating table.
Here was my ❤️ solution. After Googling aging, dehydration, heat, fainting and tachycardia. I chose to drink more water and ignore the former almost horizontal episodes while hoping it won’t happen again.
I began guzzling more water which of course led to an increase of potty breaks. However the overall liquid output seemed to be a Great Lake more than the input. Plus the frequency became similar to my breaths per minute. Things were getting out of hand. Once again, I went to the source of all knowledge. Google.
Here’s what I found. As we age our noses and ears continue to grow. (As if my nose isn’t large enough to begin with.) For senior men, our prostates continue to grow as well. Which impacts men’s bladder function and retention in a bad way.
During my research I learned about some outpatient procedures that might alleviate my fluid condition. I called the Mayo Clinic in Phoenix and miraculously scored an appointment for an evaluation at their urology department.
There I was met by a stunningly beautiful (think Miss Universe minus the sash) Nurse Practitioner. This being the Mayo Clinic she quickly got down to business in a professional no nonsense manner. She asked many private questions concerning my “privates.” I assured her that “ALL MY PARTS WORK FINE.” She made a note of that.
She went on to explain the tests required to fully assess which medical course of action to take. With each vivid description of what each test would entail, I instinctively crossed my legs and squeezed down harder. My face contorted into a look somewhere between revulsion and nausea.
After she was done she asked, “Any questions?”
“Yeah! Can’t you just toss me into an MRI to figure this out?”
“Sorry. No!”
“Well in that case, I think you left out “water boarding” as the final test.”
She gave me a few pamphlets which described the torture regime. I thanked her for her time and patience. When I returned to my Snobsdale rental, I pitched the offending publications into a corner of a closet, never to be looked at again.
My solution: Drink less fluids, but not to the extent of causing possible dehydration leading to fainting spells. I’m now taking saw palmetto and lycopene supplements in an attempt to reduce the size of my prostate naturally. Once again, I’m avoiding and ignoring the underlying problems.
But the aging hits kept right on coming. While shlepping two water containers to my condo, I rolled my knee. Of course it was the arthritic already damaged one. Instant swelling and dull pain. I began making phones calls to the billions of orthopedic dudes in Snobsdale. Purpose? To secure a shot of my favorite steroid AKA cortisone.
Cortisone and me. I estimate I’ve been jabbed with that magic elixir more times than most professional baseball players. You can say I’m a cortisone connoisseur. I know instantly when the Doc nails it. Like the time I was stuck in my lower back and an hour later was off on a 70 mile bicycle ride. Or when I was jabbed in my knee and two days later backpacked into the Grand Canyon. Yeah, the stuff is that good. I reckon getting steroid injections is the price I pay for trying to be an athlete with a body that was bred to be a merchant or accountant.
I scored an appointment for the needle. The Doc missed the sweet spot. I believe it was wide right. I had a bad feeling about his aim when he refused to drain my swollen knee prior to the poke. At the time of my appointment my knee was so bloated it required it’s very own bar stool.
That’s BIGLY!
But the really awful news was the X Ray displaying an almost bone on bone knee joint. Then the Doc (who missed the field goal) mentioned the two words I never wanted to hear. Knee Replacement.
The inability to be mobile is not something I can ignore or avoid. Hiking makes me happy! As a wise Catalan woman once told me on my first Camino de Santiago, “The secret to life is the motion.”
Which brings me to the point of this long post. By now you’re picking up my “look the other way” approach to personal health care.
Why is that Jeffy?
Because aging is hard enough. Going it alone is far worse.
The New York Times recently ran an article about solo seniors who blew off medical exams and procedures. The reason? They have no one they can count on to take them to the hospital if need be. Let alone someone who will help them through the convalescent and rehabilitation stages. This is something I can sadly relate to. (My brother Mike and sister-in-law Robin stepped up to babysit me in case I need a knee surgery).
But this is not how I envisioned my life to be. I figured by now, I’d have a girlfriend/wife in a loving quid pro quo relationship. As in “Hi Bubalah, could you please keep an eye on me as I heal ASAP and I’ll do the same for you if the need arises?” (Since I’m a Jewish Mother in a man’s body, it would be a good deal for this mystery woman. Coffee in bed included.)
Like so many other Alte Kakers I live in a perpetual state of medical denial. I fear slipping on that figurative and literal patch of black ice in which there might be no one nearby to pick me up. So we disregard the glitches and do our best to avoid the ice.
This is why health is our greatest wealth.
For a poignant New York Times look at loneliness through the ages:
I wish all my readers a happy and healthy New Year.
Cheers/L’Chaim
Jeff
