SCARED POOPLESS (Toney Atkins)

UPDATE: THE DAY AFTER follows the original:

Hi friends and wonderful acquaintances,

I hope this finds you doing well and enjoying life.

Some of you have inquired about the results of the tests on my eyes, one of which recently  went totally blind for a couple of days (and still isn't working too great at times). I truly appreciate your prayers and positive energy. It has helped.

The specialist managed to scare me poopless today. A bilateral cartoid ultrasound, performed utilizing 8.0 MHz transducer (bet you didn't know I could talk doctor, did you?), pne of the major results indicated Intimal hyperplasia, the thickening of the tunica intima of a blood vessel as a complication of a reconstruction procedure or endarterectomy. Intimal hyperplasia is the universal response of a vessel to injury and is an important reason of late bypass graft failure, particularly in vein and synthetic vascular grafts.

I must be honest. I stole wording for that paragraph from the doctor's report and Wikipedia, and it's Greek to me. My case has something to do with the flow of blood to (or from?) the brain. The way the doc described it, I gather that it means that I have a blockage somewhere which could result in a stroke. I nearly had one just listening to him, but I managed to keep my panic attack at bay. Introspectively and aside from the eyes, even now I have several symptoms of the aftermath of a stroke, but doctors don't seem to believe that's the case. I should stop watching "House" reruns. Hypochonriac that I tend to be, I sometimes feel I have the same symptoms as every patient in every episode. With the size of my belly, I have been accused of being pregnant, but so far, no baby, no National Enquirer, no millions of dollars, so my hypochondria does have lines it won't cross.

I have to see my primary physician Monday, who will refer me to two more specialists. Getting old is indeed an adventure (and sometimes a bitch, so please continue to remember me in prayer or think something positive.

Obviously, the urgency isn't too great. I'm not in the hospital yet. The tests were conducted more than a month ago, I don't know if my condition is the same or worse. I'm sure the specialist, whom I trust, considered the evaluations that were done today. But that scares the poop out of me, too. It's good to know 

Chalk this email up to another moaning and groaning rambling of a reluctantly aging old man who doesn't have the patience to deal with failing body parts. Feel free to get back at me any time by writing to me about any problem YOU might have. It helps to vent, even if only God knows the answers.

Love somebody today.

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THE DAY AFTER:

I have always had the terrible habit of writing and publishing things before I have really thought them out, and they ultimately resulted in regret.

After sending the above email to friends and contacts, some who care and many who likely do not, I realized how selfish it sounds. I try not to be whiny, but sometimes I put personal thoughts into writing partly because there are few people that I can actually talk to in order to get fears, frustrations and, on the other hand, positive thoughts and energy out of my system.

The email likely came across as self-centered, and today it appears as such, even to me.
As a neighborhood man in his 30s pointed out today, I am fortunate. "You've lived a long life, and you should be proud and expect problems like this," he said.

Thinking back on my 50th year high school senior class reunion two years ago, I know that he is right. I am 70 years old, and I have outlived some of my classmates and friends who possibly suffered much more than I will ever suffer. I thank God that I am as healthy as I am, and I should thank Him every day for that. I wish those classmates and friends were alive today and that they could have enjoyed our reunion and the days, months and years afterward. I would like to think the rest of us lucky ones will be around to celebrate our 100th year of graduating into society and the real world, in which we would grow  and age, mix successes with failures as we grew older.

I apologize for seemingly feeling sorry for myself, because I really don't. I will face this problem as I have done when the situations seemed dire in the past. There are many, many people who are in worse shape than I, but I guess I do selfishly enjoy life, whatever the pains, disappointments and frustrations. I hope to spend my golden years relishing the moments and days.

If I offended anyone by my blowing off steam, which would have been more appropriate, I suppose, in a personal journal, I am sorry. However, I do thank you for reading, listening, praying and caring.

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LIFE GOES ON

A followup, this one on Wednesday, Feb. 13, 2013

Someday I'll look back on these posts and laugh -- or at least I hope I will.

A nervous visit to my primary doctor Tuesday was rather anticlimactic. His response provided no real solutions to the problem previously discussed and no sense of compassion or even concern could be noted.

He did not refer me to a specialist, as my eye surgeon had indicated probably should be necessary. Instead, my doctor said the tests indicated that the artery was "only" 50 percent blocked and "at this time" did not necessitate surgery. Instead, he suggested continuation of a blood thinner, which I have taken for a couple of years and what he said could keep the blockage from growing and therefore possibly preventing a stroke. 

The blood flow to my brain, therefore, will continue to be disrupted. (That's my personal diagnosis based on his.) In other words, the eye problems and issues concerning memory and such will continue and be problems that I with which I will have to learn to contend.

I actually feel pretty good for my age, the above inconveniences not withstanding. If I die, I die. No need to worry about it. It's something we all do eventually, but it's nothing to dwell on. Life is depressing enough without worrying about the end and when it will come.

My late father's philosophy, as he aged, was that doctors in particular didn't care all that much about a person once he or she hits 70 or so. He believed physicians did what little they could to appease an elderly patient, preferring to deal with younger people who have more money than Social Security provides and than Medicare pays. The more attention I pay to the way doctors and others act toward senior citizens, the more I have to believe Dad might have been on to something, although when I was younger, I thought he was over-reacting. 

Now that I know that only 50 percent of an artery or veins to my brain are blocked and that nothing apparently needs to be done to correct the situation, I'm going to try to forget it, be fearless and continue enjoying what has often seemed like a roller coaster, but what has been a pretty good life. I can guarantee you: I'm going to make it last as long as possible. There's a lot of living and loving left to do.