Thursday, April 10, 2025

Better a curveball than a speedball

I tend to be very modest in my consumption of pharmaceutical products. For twenty years there’s been only two items on the shopping list. A couple months ago my doctor added a third, something intended to tamp down the high cholesterol. Shortly thereafter, I noticed an unexpected side effect - my bony ankles were disappearing. No biggie, I thought. Neither I nor anyone else sits around admiring my ankles, so I let things slide, perhaps a little longer than I should have. By the middle of last week fat ankles had become fat feet and fat legs. By the end of the week my abdomen had doubled in size and I was having trouble breathing. It was a major effort to get my pants on, let alone do them up. By Sunday I hadn’t slept for two nights, my face was beginning to puff up, and I was getting worried. I resolved to call the doctor Monday morning. I tell the office I think I’m having a bad reaction to the new meds. The girl tells me the first thing I have to do is get an assessment, and since the office is 100 miles away she says to go to the nearest hospital for that. The nearest hospital is a modest operation in a quaint town on the shores of Georgian Bay. I walk in thinking I’ll be walking out in an hour or two, with a magic potion that’ll make my body shrink. Well! I finally walked out three days later with four new prescriptions and one new diagnosis. In between I got every test that little joint has the technology to administer. The good news is that the liver and kidneys seem to be functioning normally. The bad news, in the doctor’s own words; “your chest ex-ray is lookin’ kinda nasty.” I like the way they get to the point in these small towns. No sense confusing the locals with nonsensical jargon. The diagnosis; congestive heart failure. That’s not something you want to hear, so I had a lot of questions. To my way of thinking, they shouldn’t call it failure as long as the heart is till pumping. Turns out about 70% of folks my age have some sort of cardiovascular disease. When you look at it that way, I’m as boringly normal as I’ve ever been! So, is the party over? Nah… I figure if I stop with the joints and stock up on edibles, I’ll be good to go for long while yet!

1 comment:

  1. Congestive Heart failure is no joking matter. My wife died from it. She was 63. I suspect eventually it will be your demise but, with proper diet, exercise and a positive outlook you can be among the living for many years. My wife kept hidden from me how sick she really was. Stiff upper lip and all that malarkey. Add to the fact that I was in denial about her condition. I came home from work one day and she was dead on the bedroom floor . The whole thing still haunts me. Its been 4 years since her death and I miss her terribly.

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