You and Me In the Same Boat. Cherishing Life!
Yesterday was my 78th birthday. We celebrated with food, dancing and sex. No presents; what do you get for a 78 year old man who has everything? My first experience with Zoom was a birthday gathering with 14 family members sequestered in six different locations. Gratifying and fun; I’m so grateful for family, even if I don’t get to see them in person.
As for myself, at this moment, I feel great! Only the normal complaints of an old man accompany the mild and manageable symptoms of my “comorbidities”. I have sequestered myself at home with Mad since March 13th, and, honestly, my life has not changed that much. I feel very fortunate in this respect, compared to the incredible disruption the pandemic has caused in the lives of so many. We were isolated already, with few neighbors, and those staying out of sight. If we want exercise, we can walk out the door into the forest and not see anyone for hours. We avoid the river trails on weekends, but on weekdays there are few people out there to avoid. I miss swimming and sports on TV. I miss being able to go to the market any time I want for ice cream. I’d like to go on a road trip to visit family and friends. I’d like to go on a cruise to see a new part of the world. And on and on… All things considered, though, whatever discontent I may feel inconsequential.
While Mad was reading an article to me about how doctors are coping with the unbelievably terrifying situation in New York City hospitals, the term “comorbidity” came up. “What’s that” I wondered? It turns out they are underlying conditions in addition to the one being treated. “Wow, do I know comorbiditiies!”
If I were to go into the ER with Covid, they will look at my chart and, first, marvel at my comorbidities. They they will shake their heads at the prospect of trying to save someone with cancer, lung disease and heart disease in addition to the virus. In triage, I suspect I will go to the end of the list, in spite of the fact that, outwardly, I seem quite fit.
For several years now I have had the specter of life threatening health conditions hanging over me. Now we are in the same boat. Not that I would wish the present disease catastrophe upon anyone, certainly not, but I am definitely not as unique anymore.
Am I worried? Somewhat. Am I afraid? No. I’ve had five years to come to terms with the inevitablity of death and, in my mind, I’ve already been cheating the grim reaper for quite some time. As I’ve told you often before, every new day is a gift for me. I trust that, in the light of the current crisis, many of you are thinking the same thing… in the same boat, so to speak.
Last week I was supposed to have my latest monitoring CT scan to see what’s happening with cancer and NTM in my lungs. Needless to say it did not happen. Therefore, I have nothing of substance to convey to you all regarding my health struggles except that I feel fine. I’ve been rescheduled to go up to Portland on May 20th. Will that occur? Who knows? So far Oregon has not been hit as hard as other parts of the country, so we are crossing our fingers that things will have calmed down enough by then that I can circulate in society.
I have been playing around with the idea of resurrecting my personal web site, [email protected]. I used it to communicate with my hiking and swimming friends, to share workout thoughts and hiking pictures. After I was diagnosed with cancer I stopped posting to that site and have not since. I’m thinking now it might be a good way to blog about “just things” that I don’t want to clog Caring Bridge with, but that I think people might be interested in. It’s still a work in progress; I’ll let you know when things are up and running. Right now I’m moving my Caring Bridge posts over and figuring out how the blog function works so we can communicate back land forth.
Be well my friends…. and, for the sake of those of us with comorbids, Isolate, Isolate, Isolate!!!
Yesterday was my 78th birthday. We celebrated with food, dancing and sex. No presents; what do you get for a 78 year old man who has everything? My first experience with Zoom was a birthday gathering with 14 family members sequestered in six different locations. Gratifying and fun; I’m so grateful for family, even if I don’t get to see them in person.
As for myself, at this moment, I feel great! Only the normal complaints of an old man accompany the mild and manageable symptoms of my “comorbidities”. I have sequestered myself at home with Mad since March 13th, and, honestly, my life has not changed that much. I feel very fortunate in this respect, compared to the incredible disruption the pandemic has caused in the lives of so many. We were isolated already, with few neighbors, and those staying out of sight. If we want exercise, we can walk out the door into the forest and not see anyone for hours. We avoid the river trails on weekends, but on weekdays there are few people out there to avoid. I miss swimming and sports on TV. I miss being able to go to the market any time I want for ice cream. I’d like to go on a road trip to visit family and friends. I’d like to go on a cruise to see a new part of the world. And on and on… All things considered, though, whatever discontent I may feel inconsequential.
While Mad was reading an article to me about how doctors are coping with the unbelievably terrifying situation in New York City hospitals, the term “comorbidity” came up. “What’s that” I wondered? It turns out they are underlying conditions in addition to the one being treated. “Wow, do I know comorbiditiies!”
If I were to go into the ER with Covid, they will look at my chart and, first, marvel at my comorbidities. They they will shake their heads at the prospect of trying to save someone with cancer, lung disease and heart disease in addition to the virus. In triage, I suspect I will go to the end of the list, in spite of the fact that, outwardly, I seem quite fit.
For several years now I have had the specter of life threatening health conditions hanging over me. Now we are in the same boat. Not that I would wish the present disease catastrophe upon anyone, certainly not, but I am definitely not as unique anymore.
Am I worried? Somewhat. Am I afraid? No. I’ve had five years to come to terms with the inevitablity of death and, in my mind, I’ve already been cheating the grim reaper for quite some time. As I’ve told you often before, every new day is a gift for me. I trust that, in the light of the current crisis, many of you are thinking the same thing… in the same boat, so to speak.
Last week I was supposed to have my latest monitoring CT scan to see what’s happening with cancer and NTM in my lungs. Needless to say it did not happen. Therefore, I have nothing of substance to convey to you all regarding my health struggles except that I feel fine. I’ve been rescheduled to go up to Portland on May 20th. Will that occur? Who knows? So far Oregon has not been hit as hard as other parts of the country, so we are crossing our fingers that things will have calmed down enough by then that I can circulate in society.
I have been playing around with the idea of resurrecting my personal web site, [email protected]. I used it to communicate with my hiking and swimming friends, to share workout thoughts and hiking pictures. After I was diagnosed with cancer I stopped posting to that site and have not since. I’m thinking now it might be a good way to blog about “just things” that I don’t want to clog Caring Bridge with, but that I think people might be interested in. It’s still a work in progress; I’ll let you know when things are up and running. Right now I’m moving my Caring Bridge posts over and figuring out how the blog function works so we can communicate back land forth.
Be well my friends…. and, for the sake of those of us with comorbids, Isolate, Isolate, Isolate!!!
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