Upon reflection, I
naturally and routinely placed complete confidence in the medical professionals
probably because Mom and Dad held them in such high regard. As high school drop outs, they were in awe of
the incredible amount of education and training required to become a medical
doctor, and I probably picked up their values in that regard. I used to scoff at people who said they were
afraid to go to the doctor, because they were afraid of what they might find out. I was always the opposite: “An ounce of
prevention is worth a pound of cure,” as the saying goes. I would rather catch things early and so
improve my chances of overcoming anything that the doctors might find. More recently I have come to appreciate the
concept of “false positives” and the overreactions that are perhaps the norm
among medical professionals: better to do more than necessary rather than risk
criticism for doing too little. I’ve
also seen that if you keep visiting your doctors, they will sooner or later
find something to treat – often something not necessary to treat.
I suppose that age spots
need no explanation, but when they are happening to you (and they will
someday if you are reading this, whoever you are) it can be quite
unsettling. Almost every day it seems I
notice a new spot or blemish and make sure it doesn’t look like something that
should be checked out by the dermatologist.
It is disconcerting to glance down at the back of your own hands and not
recognize them. I have always had
prominent veins in my legs, and now with the various age spots that can look
like warts and welts I fear I will scare the kids at the pool! “Mommy, what’s wrong with that man?” Sandy and I make quite a pair. She has real varicose veins from giving
birth. I tease her by telling people, in
her presence, that our grandkids try to spell their names with the veins in her
legs. She can’t stay mad at me, because
I make her laugh! Sandy is bothered by
arthritis way more than I am so far, particularly in her hands. But it makes me more useful in retirement, as
she calls upon me to open or close things that she can’t manage. How weak her hands really are was brought
home to me the first time I had occasion to wring out a washcloth after she had
given it her best. There was so much
water/moisture left! I was surprised.
I have scars from the
ankle injury I mentioned, plus two foot surgeries and one arthroscopic knee
surgery – the surgeries all related to running injuries. The knee surgery was really 3 operations in
one. A few days after the surgery I got
an infection requiring immediate hospitalization, where the attending physician
had to go back in and clean out the area.
I remember when they nonchalantly removed the tube from my knee the next
day I practically shot straight up toward the ceiling in pain, but it lasted
only a moment. That was when I first
experienced morphine and thought I was allergic to it. I had never had ghoulish nightmares
before. It was all the more frightening
because I had never knowingly put such thoughts into my brain. I didn’t watch creepy movies back then; I
didn’t read books like Stephen King’s; I couldn’t figure out how such thoughts
and images had gotten inside me in the first place. It made me contemplate the real possibility
that humans have a natural “dark side” that we are more or less born with. I have since come to realize that ghoulish
nightmares are a common side effect of morphine and that I am not allergic to
it. Ironically, since then I have found
I enjoy scary, creepy movies and, as mentioned, have no trouble dismissing the
ideas and images from my mind and enjoying an untroubled sleep.
But as to operation #3 on
the knee, I was attending physical therapy (PT) on a regular basis, but was
unable to regain my range of motion. Too
much scar tissue had formed. So…back to
the Operating Room. The doctor told me
that once I was under the general anesthesia they would go in and decide
whether to try to break up the scar tissue via arthroscopy or whether to do it
manually. When I regained consciousness
in the Recovery Room I was informed that the biggest, strongest attendant in the
OR had done it manually with one swift crunch.
No wonder I was craving pain pills.
In the first few PT sessions thereafter it seemed like I still would not
be able to regain my range of motion, but we finally had a breakthrough.
I so remember the moment
that the knee moved past the previous limit.
I knew at the same moment the therapist knew that we were going to be
successful. He had previously used every
method he knew and some he invented to try to get the leg to move. We would both be panting and sweating, trying
to get movement, but finally it was there. That was in January 1999. I ran a 4-mile race in February (not very
fast!) and was on a relay team at the Big Sur Marathon in April of that year,
where I was back to normal. I started my
brief triathlon career that May at the Pleasanton Tri-for-Fun events.
When I decided to just
“live with” my shoulder impingement I tried sleeping sitting up so that my
right arm could hang, or dangle while I tried to sleep. That helped tremendously! In fact, my low back felt a lot better in the
morning, as well. I had already given up
trying to sleep face down, but on the side and face up were also resulting in
an aching low back in the morning. Once
I started sleeping in more of a sitting position, with a large pillow under my
knees, I did much better. I seldom stay
in that position all night; I take some breaks on one side or the other, but
when the pain starts, I am more than ready to sit back up. I also find I breathe a lot better sitting
up, as opposed to flat on my back. You
can breathe more deeply sitting up.
Actually, I don’t sleep at a 90 degree angle; it is more like a 45
degree angle and I gradually slide down until I wake up enough to sit back
up. It probably sounds awful, but it is
better than my alternatives.
I used to sit up in bed
reading while Sandy tried to go to sleep; then I started reading in the other
bedroom and quietly coming to bed when I was ready. When I started propping myself up with an
assortment of various size pillows and backrests, I would bring the whole set up
into Sandy’s bedroom when I was ready to go to sleep. But it was quite a production to go through
in the dark while trying not to wake her up.
Eventually I asked myself, “Why don’t I just sleep in the other room
where I am reading?” Sandy was OK with
it. Thus began the era of separate
bedrooms, which I hear is not that unusual for older couples, especially if one
has special needs. Sandy is not missing
much cuddling, because I could never sleep touching. I break into a sweat every time. Pam and Mark have a much newer relationship,
so when he heard about our arrangement he was predictably scornful. But I assured him that I had visiting
rights. He still was not appreciative of
the situation.
I consider the
accumulation of “issues” from ages 60 to 70 – the aches and pains and
limitations that I have been describing – yet I seem to be in denial about a
further accumulation from age 70 to 80, and of course age 80 to 90. I bravely, if naively, look forward to living
as long as possible, knowing on some level that it is going to get harder, not
easier. I think I am going to need my
bubble and my ability to live in my mind if I am going to enjoy the “old old”
years. I have recently decided to do
better about my intake of simple sugars and to monitor my physical indicators
better. The Excel file name is “Tom
Tracking” and the tab title is “Reach 100,” so it is no secret what my goal
is.
I have set up some columns
to track body weight and circumference on a weekly basis, and body composition
and blood work results on a 2 to 3 times per year basis. After 3 weeks, the body weight and
circumference results are dismal at best.
I’ve lost less than 3 pounds, and my circumference has not budged from
41 inches. That measure, by the way, is
with a cloth tape around the middle, right across the navel, which is said to
be the most appropriate measure of belly size for a male. I call it my circumference rather than my
waist, because I can wear size 36 waist pants and even some size 34s, but that
is deceiving. The guideline is that my
belly circumference should ideally not exceed ½ of my height in inches: So if I
am 5’8’ (= 68 inches) my circumference should ideally be no more than 34
inches. The pants that I wear can give the
false impression that I am really pretty close to ideal, which of course I am
not.
My body composition work
up, per the YMCA analysis on April 18, 2014, showed that I need to lose just
8.2 pounds of body fat and do not need to gain any lean body mass, so a net of
8.2 pounds. However, the way the body
works, if I were to lose 10 pounds, it would not be all body fat. I would likely still not need to gain any
lean body mass, but would still need to lose some body fat. The prescription for me is cardio and
diet. We’ll see. I will do what I can. The blood lab workups are tracking
cholesterol, triglycerides, and blood sugar (glucose fasting). Thanks to prescription medicine, my
cholesterol is fine, and so are the other indicators. I am in no danger of slipping into what they
call “pre-diabetes.” One amazing and
encouraging finding is that, at age 70, I am continuing to build lean muscle
mass. Over a 27 month period, my basal
metabolic rate (BMR) increased from 1,742 to 1,779. The literature states that, “BMR is directly
correlated with Lean Body Mass. With
age, muscle depletes and BMR steadily decreases.” I must have good genes in
that regard. So with all these factors
going for me, plus my natural inclination to live as long as possible, I have
decided to make it a priority to treat my body as well as possible and see if I
can get to 100 years of age.
From an early age of
adulthood I recognized and spoke about two attributes of mine that I have come
by naturally and which have blessed my life: an “attitude of gratitude”, and a
tendency not to “cry over spilt milk.” I
mentioned that I get to the 5th step of grieving, that of
acceptance, rather quickly. But it is
not just in grieving. In response to any
adversity or disappointment, as I have expressed it to Sandy, I mentally kick
something, say a few curse words to myself, and move on. Forget about it. That is not true in personal relationships,
however. If I have hurt someone or
harmed my relationship with someone, I try hard for a long time to make it
right. Only very reluctantly and slowly
do I accept that the relationship has been permanently changed and may even be
over…then I kick something and move on.
As I have said, it is a
gift to live into old age, compared to the alternative and to the fact that a
lot of people do not get to do so.
Despite how carefully I may take care of myself, a fatal accident or
medical diagnosis could happen at any time.
Besides tumors and cancers coming out of nowhere, our vital organs can
give out at any time, and the older we are, the more likely. I guess this is where we came in. I said at the start that “The
end of your days may come abruptly and unexpectedly or, on the other hand, you
may not have the faculties to think, remember and express what you want.” I do remember when I was in my early 60s a
fellow in his late 60s had bought a new car and said to me, “This might be the
last car I ever buy.” That thought
startled me. I haven’t bought a new car
since 2007, so there should be one in my near future. Thanks to that guy, that thought will
probably be running through my head as I drive off with my new car. I wish he hadn’t said that.
This may not be the end of
my written story, but for now I should let it be so.
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