An Organ Recital

When I began this blog a year ago, I vowed that I would not make it an “organ recital,” a catalogue of the aches and pains that accompany old age. Instead, I wanted to provide a view of life from the vantage point of an old man. But it has become increasingly obvious to me that if I don't write about my various medical problems, the view I provide will be dishonest. It would be like describing a room without mentioning the elephant standing on the middle of the carpet, swaying his massive head from side to side.

Just as Lady Bracknell approved of Algernon’s smoking, on the grounds that “every man needs an occupation,” I too need an occupation and I’ve found it in helping to support the medical profession. During the last year I’ve consulted a cardiologist (low and irregular heart rate), hematologist (anemia), pulmonologist, who is also my primary care physician (chronic bronchitis, bronchomalcia, electrolyte imbalance, swelling of extremities, hypertension, acid reflux), urologist (tumors in urethra), radiation oncologist (recurrent prostate cancer), gastroenterologist (spreading pancreatic cyst), dermatologist (periodic checks for skin cancer), and endocrinologist (osteoporosis).

And to top off these visits, a few days ago, a combination of these problems forced my incarceration in a hospital for 15 days. At the hospital my sodium level was brought up to normal, my heart was monitored, with the decision not to implant a pacemaker, my hemoglobin count was raised by a transfusion of two units of blood, and bleeding from my prostate, its blood vessels weakened by radiation and two partial prostatectomies, was stopped. A few days later I was released from durance vile.

Any tendency to feel sorry for myself while in the hospital was checked by seeing that some of my various roommates suffered from much more severe problems. And even as I lay in bed, reading, snoozing, submitting to infusions and periodic checks of my “vitals”, I was thankful to be alive and grateful for the extension of life that medical care has granted me.

When I look at some of my friends who are at least my age, I see that they also have many medical problems. The piling up of such issues is probably unavoidable as we age. If we view them as the price we pay for longevity - after all, we were built to last only long enough to produce children and to raise them until they could survive on their own - then we must recognize that any years after forty are a bonus. I've lived twice as long as that. Still, I'm greedy for more and if endless visits to doctors and technicians is a requisite for remaining vertical, it's a price well worth paying.

So now that I have engaged in this organ recital, with full orchestral accompaniment, I hope to return to other topics in future posts.