Installment # 67

I remember as the weather turned warmer each spring we would badger our mothers to let us go “bare belly” (no shirt).  Summer had started for us the day we were allowed to go bare belly, regardless of the calendar date.  It was probably sometime in May.  The last day of the school year was incredibly exciting.  It was like the end of the old life and the beginning a new life.  When you are elementary school age, the 10 weeks or so of summer ahead seem like forever…freedom forever!  On Long Island, and I suppose most places, March-April was kite season, among other things.  I recall more than once working painstakingly, putting my new kite together from a kit and then having it crash to earth or get wrecked in a tree on its maiden voyage.  It is heartbreaking when you are 8 or 9 years old.  We used to cut colored cloth into strips to make a special kite tail that would hopefully be the envy of the other kids on the block.  If somebody’s dad helped them too much, we would declare that wasn’t fair.

There was usually at least one summer rain storm that left puddles several inches deep, and our mothers would let us get our bathing suits on and play in the puddles, always with the warning to make sure there was not broken glass or rusty nails hidden under the water.  As I recall, we never looked for such things, despite promises made to Mom, and we never stepped on any such things.  Mom told us about lock jaw…how a person could get lock jaw by stepping on a rusty nail.  I remember her showing us with facial expressions what a person who had lock jaw would look like and how they would sound when they tried to talk, and that they would spend the rest of their lives that way.  We were in fear and awe for a few moments, then would go around imitating someone with lock jaw, or even pretend that we had just stepped on a nail and really had it.

Most people in my generation have circular marks high up on the left shoulder where we received vaccinations against small pox.  The vaccination was not given routinely after 1971, when small pox was considered eradicated.  Sandy’s mark does not show at all anymore, but she thinks she can still see some faint evidence of mine.   There was also a polio vaccine that we all received.  Per the Internet, an oral vaccine was approved in 1962, replacing the injections.  Polio was a serious threat during my childhood days.  It was not unusual to hear that a neighbor knew someone who had been stricken with polio.  It was at least as common as pancreatic cancer or a severe brain tumor would be today, though not as fatal.  It was more of a crippling disease.

Life expectancy in the United States has increased dramatically, but it has been pointed out that the definition of old age really has not changed.  It is just that more people are reaching it.  Life expectancy is based on averages, and averages have improved dramatically mostly due to the eradication of childhood diseases and improvements in child birth procedures.  Age 75 is still “old”, with age 65 being the “young old,” and age 85 being the “old old.”  I told this to Aunt Dot when she was 93 and she asked, “Well then what does that make me?”  I think I said “Ancient!”  Many people over 90 are looking forward to “getting it over with,” and many people (like Sandy) do not even want to live that long.  Aunt Dot is not like that, though.  I have never heard her say that she wishes the Lord would take her home, or that she is looking forward to leaving this life, even though her strong faith tells her that she can look forward to a great heavenly reward, and to be reunited with Uncle Harold and other loved ones who have gone before.  Cousin Harold agreed with me and said that she so loves being around her grandchildren and great grandchildren that she is in no hurry to pass on, despite the difficulties that come with advanced age.

Cousin Harold has been such a rock for his family, especially for his mother, Aunt Dot, and for Uncle Harold in the years prior to his passing.   Without going into any medical details, suffice it to say that Cousin Harold made it his business to understand everything the medical professionals were saying, and made sure his parents were following orders.  He is over at Aunt Dot’s early every morning making breakfast for her, partly to ease her burden, and partly to monitor what she is eating.  He understands medical terms better than probably 90% of the population, and is not shy about challenging the doctors and nursing staff personnel when anything doesn’t sound right to him.  Harold is the nicest guy in the world, yet carries himself with an authority that makes people reluctant to cross him.  Aunt Dot has said to me many, many times, “If God was only going to give me one child, He sure gave me the right one.  Harold has been the best son any mother could ever have wanted.”  I told her recently that she was not just being biased.  He really is.  I told her that Don and I are both in awe of Harold and the way he handles himself and serves the people around him.

I can sure relate to the fact that we have to deal with more and more aches, pains and limitations as we get older.  I started in my early 30s with low back issues that were diagnosed over the years by chiropractors and medical doctors as stemming from anything from injury to birth defect.  One chiropractor said that a pair of vertebrae in my lower back was turned 90 degrees, creating a weakness that could not be fixed.  He explained that if all my vertebrae were like that I would have the Hunchback of Notre Dame affect.  Another said that my sacroiliac was fused to my spine at L-5.  They are supposed to separate as we grow during childhood.  Still another said that my spine was not seated low enough into my pelvis region.  He likened it to putting a fence post into the ground, but not sinking it deep enough.  It creates an unstable low back.  Regardless of exact cause, I have needed good support when sitting; including office chairs that do not lean back and are not on wheels.  Until recently I avoided exercises and activities that would strengthen my abdominals (abs), because they put too much pressure on my low back.

About ten years ago I received great benefit from a chiropractor who is also an accomplished runner.  He showed me some subtle exercises for my abs and low back (collectively my “core”) that strengthened without challenging my inherent weaknesses.  Around the same time I started at the YMCA gym, and was very selective as to which exercises I did and how much weight I was using.  I stayed with the machines, which really control the movements, focus on one small set of muscles at a time, and protect from inadvertent injury.  After a few years I found I was doing so many reps, with so much weight, that one of the trainers there challenged me to do somewhat more demanding exercises, especially for the core.  He said that if you are doing 50 reps of something, especially related to the core, then you need to do something more challenging and build up to maybe 20 reps.  He also gave me a combination of isometric and explosive moves, and exercises to target the upper, lower and deeper ab muscles.  I have been doing things now that I never thought I could do.

Unfortunately, X-rays are showing degenerative disc disease in my low back that has progressed to “severe.”  I can’t run anymore, and I need to be careful carrying anything on the heavy or awkward side while walking, such as a heavy suitcase or ice chest.  My primary care physician at Kaiser advised me to let running be a thing of the past for me.  My running chiropractor advised me to run as much as my body would let me.  I of course did the latter for a few months until finally concluding that the pain was getting intolerable. I needed more than one day off between runs, and I started to believe that I really was doing myself more harm than good.   So that is one area where I can relate to the aches and pains of living into old age, though I am still in the “young old” category according to my earlier definitions.

I have also developed a shoulder impingement and elbow tendonitis, both on my dominant side (right side).  I guess tendonitis is a form of arthritis.  I was told that the common name for what I have would be “golfer’s elbow” as opposed to “tennis elbow.”  The latter is felt on the outside of the elbow; mine is on the inside, closer to my body.  Both the impingement and the tendonitis could be brought on by trauma or overuse, but probably are just part of the aging process in my case.  The prescriptions are either: a) careful range of motion and strengthening exercises, or b) surgery.  I have tried a) in a variety of ways and have given up.  Anything I do seems just to aggravate the situations.  If I was younger and still trying to improve in running or lifting or anything like that, I might consider surgery, but at this point…no thanks.  So what I am left with is: accept these limitations and work around them.

I alluded to my history of running injuries earlier.  One that is still with me is a collapsed transverse arch that requires me to wear full-length prescription orthotics.  I cannot walk for long without my orthotics and not barefoot at all.  It is a real nuisance around the swimming pool or when boating.  I don’t know whether to blame this on running or whether it would have happened in my case, anyway.  That is one of the issues of living a long time: some of your activities that were overdone or maybe ill-advised in the first place have a greater chance of catching up with you the longer you live.  Hopefully that does not include the smoking I did from ages 18 to 34.  As mentioned, medical science is now finding that we do ourselves some noticeable, permanent harm, but hopefully it will not become more pronounced as I get older and my lungs naturally lose more capacity.

Let me add to this litany a compression fracture, two sinus operations, weird age spots, and an infection of the epididymis.  The latter at first sounded to me like something having to with the skin (epidermis), so something maybe superficial.  It turned out to be something more serious having to do with the male reproductive organs.  I had experienced some bleeding from my penis, and was really freaked out about it, as most any male would be.  I must have blocked some of that from my memory, but I think I was mainly on antibiotics, and the symptoms cleared up in ten days or so.  But I worried about it longer than that, watching for any sign of a recurrence.  The compression fracture is in my mid-back region.  I had a few episodes during 2010 where it felt like my back was “seizing up” on me.  The back of my arms would get tingly and numb, I would be dizzy, and would start to have trouble breathing.  I learned to sit down and calmly breathe as best I could until I started to feel normal.  These seizures only lasted 2-3 minutes, but were alarming and puzzling.  Such instances increased from about once per week to about every other day, then went back to about weekly, then diminished to about once per month, then a few times per year, and as I sit here I think I haven’t had one for about six months.  I learned about the compression fracture via X-ray as I sought medical attention.  That was a scary time, too!

My sinus issues began with a 360 degree X-ray at the dentist office that showed some strange bits of bone or dental material lodged way up in my head, behind my eyes, near the back of my skull.  The dentist highly recommended that I have it checked out by a nose and throat specialist, with consideration for removing it surgically.  I had it double/triple checked with medical X-rays and an MRI.  All agreed that there was something there, but not all agreed that someone should go in there and surgically remove it.  There are always risk/benefit trade-offs.  I knew I was stuffed up on one side and wasn’t breathing as well as I should, but when you have lived with something for as long as you can remember, you really don’t know what “normal” should feel like.  I even wondered whether I would be able to run faster if I could breathe better.  The recoveries from both operations were nightmares, which I won’t go into.

The first operation was through a PPO, where I had met my annual maximum co-pay before December, so scheduled it for December.  The second was a couple of years later at Kaiser, where timing didn’t matter.  The specialist at Kaiser examined me per my request, because I didn’t feel like the first operation had improved my breathing much and, sure enough, there were 2-3 things that needed to be taken care of, including a tumor on the back of my skull that apparently was benign, but ought to be taken out.  I also still had a deviated septum, among other things.  The PPO doctor had jokingly advised me, pre-surgery, not to name it – as if I thought I was giving birth to something, and it might not live!  Kevin teased me that it was the twin brother I never knew I had.

Both operations were under general anesthetic.  At Kaiser I remember letting the anesthesiologist know that I realized that he was the most important man in the room, because he was going to keep me breathing during all this.  He was going to keep me alive!  I reminded him a couple of times that we needed to remove my upper partial before the operation to make sure I didn’t choke on it, and that I didn’t want to lose them.  He assured me that he would have me remove it myself, just before I went “under,” and that they would be with me in the recovery room.  Well, he waited until nearly the last second to have me remove them; then the last thing I heard was him saying, “So we’re doing a vasectomy here, right?”  I had just enough awareness left to realize he was kidding and then I was out.  I never saw him again to tell him that was funny and that his timing was perfect.