Let's Do

I visited my doctor yesterday for a routine checkup. All right, visited may not be quite the right word. It's isn't like we threw steaks on the grill and hoisted a few, you know.

"You haven't had a tetanus shot in awhile. Let's get a tetanus shot," the Doc told me.

He talks like that when he thinks I need something, but he never joins me. 'Let's see a cardiologist' or 'Let's go get four quarts of blood drawn' or 'Let's get bonked on the head with a mallet' he'll say. Yet it's always only me.

I didn't mind so much until the mallet thing. 

Old Knowledge

You're never too old to learn, right? And you're never too old to learn from someone older than you either. Whether you actually want to learn some of their wisdom is another question.

When talking to a friend who is about 20 years older than me, he was explaining why older folks have more trouble with bronchial issues. "The older you get, the weaker your chest muscles become. It becomes harder and harder to expel mucus."

Well, that's another thing to look forward to I suppose. The anticipation is killing me.

One Down

Three days, three medical appointments. Do I know how to live or what?

Yesterday I was in for a CAT scan of my troublesome left ankle. Today, my first colonoscopy. Oh joy, oh rapture. Thankfully it's simply for preventative purposes, another of those 'at your age' things to do. "At your age, Mr. Cosgriff, you really ought to have a colonoscopy," my doctor told me seriously this past September. I suppose he's got my best interests in mind. And I do get to moon people without repercussions.

So I honestly don't expect bad news from that. I don't expect particularly bad news about my ankle either for that matter, except that I may need minor surgery. The ankle worries me more only because when it hurts, it hurts. I'm talking about 8 on a scale of 10. It's woken me up at night. But the damn pain comes and goes out of nowhere, sometimes lasting days, other times not even 10 minutes. Even that doesn't appear to be life threatening in and of itself. It's when it comes out of nowhere, say, when I'm going down steps, that worries me. Falling down a flight of stairs can be life threatening.

I don't want to die that way. I mean, I want to get to Heaven. I pray every day that I do, but eventually. And there are enough dicey questions already that St. Peter, I'm sure, will be asking me. I don't want "Why are you here early?" to be among them.

Which leads to appointment Roman Numeral III. Friday I see the orthopedist to find out the results on my ankle. I wish I hadn't put my foot in my mouth so often over the years...

The doctors pass the test

Now me Grandpa Joe had this friend, I'll call him Cloyce just to give him a name, who suffered from pancreatitis most of his life. I don't know how he dealt with it but he did. I'm not sure all that much could have been done for the man sixty years ago anyway.

Cloyce lived in Detroit for most of his life, but moved to another state, I believe Minnesota for what that's worth, at some point. And there he began feeling the symptoms of his disease quite acutely. He developed pain in his abdomen, and nausea. It became strong enough that he went to the hospital, where the doctors began performing a series of tests.

One after another they came back negative, confounding the doctors. A few days passed and the medicos still couldn't figure out the problem. On about the fifth day, a doctor came into Cloyce's room and said somberly, "Cloyce, I'm afraid you've got pancreatitis."

"Yeah, I know that," Cloyce responded.

Incredulous, the physician dropped his clipboard on the bed. He asked, more demanded, "Why didn't you tell us?"

Cloyce explained simply, "I wanted to see if you knew what you were doing."

Good old Cloyce.

My first MRI: on a holiday Sunday night no less!

Now that I've experience my first MRI, I can understand why me Pops didn't care for them. You are in a tightly enclosed space.

I knew going in that I would be told I couldn't move my head. So I wasn't surprised that there was a mold which I laid my head into which would help keep it still. I was even okay when the technician placed a folded towel around my head as well. I did not however expect the Hannibal Lechter face mask which was fit into place on top of the mold. "Hello Clarice," I joked to the attendant, who by one of those strange coincidences in life was actually named Clarice.

Okay, that wasn't true. Not that I joked, but that her name was Clarice.

I never actually became claustrophobic, although I did follow not-Clarice's advice and keep my eyes closed during the exam. There was a lot of popping and whirring and odd mechanical sounds, as those of you who have enjoyed an MRI will know. It actually reminded me of a scene I wrote into my first book some thirty years ago. If you've read A Subtle Armageddon, you'll get what I mean. If you haven't, help me out and buy the book would you please?

Be that as it may, I got through the exam all right. I see my doctor tomorrow for the results, and then an ear, nose, and throat specialist (otorhinolaryngolist; say that three times fast, I dare you) next Tuesday. And all joking aside, I find myself at times worried about where all this will lead. I've been dealing with vertigo for several weeks now, and not knowing why becomes rather scary if I dwell on it. Here's hoping tomorrow brings good news.