A healthy attitude goes a long way in life
Healthy attitude, healthy living (and a little luck) go a long way toward enjoying a meaningful life
I seem to lead a charmed life medically. I was diagnosed with multiple myeloma 18 years ago when the median life expectancy after diagnosis was 2 1/2 years (it's now twice that). After a stem cell transplant that had no effect, I lucked out in becoming part of a Phase 3 clinical trial for a new drug that proved particularly effective, helped in my case by something in my genetic makeup that enabled me to fight the cancer more effectively. So, after a few years of chemo, taking just one pill a day with the only side-effect being I had pneumonia 13 times in 3 1/2 years, I was declared “cured” a decade ago.
In my June 30 column, I told you about my “dog knocking me over on my bike episode” as a result of which I spent three days unconscious in the ICU, another couple of weeks in a medical ward and several months in full- or part-time rehab. But I have fully recovered to the point where even my memory is no worse than before
Two-and-a half years ago, I needed a hip transplant. In May I met the surgeon, who specializes in difficult cases (for the multiple myeloma had corroded my bones). And when he asked me when I would like to get it done, my answer was, “Late October would be nice. The summer would be over and I should be back to my old self by Christmas.” And lo and behold, in late August I was called and asked: “How about Oct. 26?”
A few weeks ago, my ex-wife had me over for dinner on my birthday. And her card for me read “Ever notice, the older we get, the more we're like computers? We start out with lots of memory and drive, then we eventually become outdated, crash at odd moments, acquire errors in our systems, and have to have our parts replaced.”
She proved prescient since sometimes I get light-headed when I walk. So my doctor had arranged a series of tests. One of them involved my wearing a heart monitor one weekend. When a couple of weeks later, in mid- September, I met with the cardiologist for the followup and he recommended a pacemaker implant: Apparently my heart periodically stops beating for three seconds and his concern was that it would at some point forget to do so for five seconds, causing me to keel over and break a hip.
And my luck held once again, for the very next day his office called me with an appointment for day surgery in early October.
On Oct. 6, I went “under the knife.” Putting in a pacemaker is not a major procedure (I was in and out of the hospital in six hours), since they place it just under the skin below the left clavicle and thus don't have to cut into any muscle. And I am glad I'm right-handed, since I will be restricted in the use of my left arm for as much as six weeks. There was only one hiccup, when I took the law into my own hands — but more about that in my next column in November.
I have all my life considered sleep a waste of time. For decades I got by on four hours a night and the occasional cat nap during the day. When I sleep I very, very seldom dream and, if I do, never remember what I dreamt about. For all intents and purposes, I am “dead to the world.” Long ago there were only three things that could wake me up at night: When our kids were small and made a noise during the night; when there was no fence around the house and our livestock overnighted nearby making unusual noises; and the word “FIRE.”
But I now seem to need six or seven hours and I resent that. Recently, I seem to have fallen into an oddball pattern. After midnight I fall asleep, reading, in my recliner chair for an hour or so. Then I wake up and sleep in bed for three or four hours. And then, after waking up again, I get back into my recliner, with a news channel on low, doze off intermittently for another couple of hours. It reminds me a bit of an Austrian soldier I read about in my early teens, who in the First World War got a serious head wound and for the next 30 years never slept again, just rested in a chair at night.
But luck aside, I think I help my cause with doctors by not whining about what ails me. And neither do I waste my time fussing about getting old or about other things I cannot change (like the weather). Instead, I concentrate on the here and now, and on making the most of every day to my own benefit and that of others.
My columns generate, and I much appreciate, a lot of feedback from readers (and so far there has been little criticism and no “brickbats” yet). One that made me chuckle last week was “You rock!”
The column has reconnected me with old friends and former colleagues I had lost touch with, which has made writing it that much more fun!
After my last column, a reader warned me “be careful recommending reverse mortgages ... The interest is quite high and charged on the full amount borrowed ... so the owner owns less and less of the property. Check into the cost of these things and write again.”
She is right on all counts. The rate is in the five-per-cent range and, of course, eats into the size of one's estate. But that doesn't mean they are a bad idea, just that taking out a reverse mortgage is a financial decision with longer-term consequences and so should not be made lightly. I plan to study it in greater detail and come back to it in a subsequent column.
I have all my life considered sleep a waste of time. For decades I got by on four hours a night and the occasional cat nap during the day.