Wednesday, 03 April 2013
Yesterday I sat for what seemed like forever in the outer office of my latest medical referral. I was there to see Nephrologist Perkins, a young South African about the age of my oldest son, Jonathan. While waiting I returned a call to Kevin Breen, part of the Newfoundland exilic contingent now winding its way to Florida. I am not a lover of Florida, I prefer California and Hawaii, but I was distinctively green on listening to Kevin’s plans. However the real truth is that I am green because I am so obsessed and unbalanced that I end up vacationing very little. Not for me hikes with John Breen, golfing with Terry Stack and others, playing cards with Brian Shorthall, the best I manage these days is an escape to Muskoka, and it is Brenda who tours the world with Moya Greene and her sister Joan. What do I do, well I work, or at least play at it, and when I am not working, I study, or at least that’s the way if often seems. I confess to having a genetic abnormality, and when I acknowledge it openly, Brenda comments, you know of course that you have more than one?
I was irritated that Nephrologist Perkins kept me waiting for as long as he did yesterday, but I behaved, and did not turn obnoxious. When I finally saw him, it was well worth the wait. He talked to me for about two hours, comprehensively reviewed and explained my blood chemistry and the interaction of my multiple ailments and their medications. It was one of the most through explanations I have ever been given, and helped me to finally understand the causality and continuing impact of my near death episode in the late fall. Rest assured I am ok, for my age and what I have been through, and that is the truth. Then, you may wonder, why talk about it at all?
All of you know I have been openly reflective and critical about self-abuse, the type of thing that brings you to an early death. I wrote a lot about James Mary. Yesterday I came away being forced to recognize my own self-abuse, and how in the end it does catch up. I drink little and smoked but for a brief moment many years ago, but my unbalanced life style, my eating habits, my lack of proper exercise, have all taken their toll in time. I came away depressed yesterday because I can’t fix I what I have done, I can’t turn back the clock, some things are not repairable. In retrospect, how stupid I was on my prostate issue! I paid no attention to obvious symptoms, and kept endlessly pissing in ignorance that there might be something amiss. I ignored my hips until I could no longer walk, and now with two artificial hips I look back and wonder why I waited so long because now I can enjoy a simple walk once again. In sum, I am one of those fellows who needs to have someone take a two by four and hit him in the head a few times to wake up. How is it that such a bright fellow can be so dumb? I now have two kidney stones to take out, and I have promised myself not to put it off, if I do feel free to take a four by six and hit me in the head a few times.
I am never depressed and down for long, but I do go there from time to time. My Black Dog immobilizes me, and I go catatonic and quiet, [can you even imagine that?] Shopping for gadgets helps, and my family always cautions that its ok to buy a fancy fountain pen, but please don’t come home with a new Rolls Royce. I have an idea, I will unwrap my Phantom and take off its winter blanket, that always gives me a gig.
I also want to walk the Camino!