Strong Like Bull
I just had my annual wellness visit today and I’m glad to report that all is….well. From what I can tell, this is nothing like annual physical that I used to get in my working days. This consists of a series of assessments that seem designed to reassure me and my doctor that I’m still bumping along as I age and that they cannot be blamed for not having asked me all these questions when my heirs say, “What happened….he said he was doing so well…”. To start with, there is that always pleasant topic of “End of Life Planning”, which consists of my advance directive and end of life care. For now I have said, yes, please do resuscitate, but no, do not go to extraordinary lengths with feeding tubes and such. I have no idea if that’s the right thing to prescribe, but it sounds right. I’m thinking that if I need CPR, go ahead and give it a shot. Maybe I’ll have a few more laps to go. But if I go brain dead or something equally unpleasant, please just let me drift off into the ether. I think that’s what I’ve directed, but only my surviving heirs will know for sure.
Then there is hearing and vision review. My vision and hearing are pretty damn near perfect from what I can tell. I don’t wear glasses any more and the DMV gave me a thumbs up a few years ago and get another crack at me by January when my license renews. Just to be safe, I asked to be referred to an ophthalmologist because I haven’t had my eyes checked for five years. Kim recently found out she is in the early stages of glaucoma, and I’ve learned that getting that corrected quickly is pretty important since the damage is one way, but can be arrested if addressed. But mind you, I had to ask for this of my primary care physician. I guess I’ve covered her Kirsten on that one too now. As for hearing, I judge by those around me and from what I can tell, I have no problems compared to many my age. I have an investment in a company with an iPad-based hearing test app, so I figure that alone means that I must be good on the hearing front, right?
Then there is the functional assessment. Can I use a telephone all by myself? Clearly these people do not realize that besides everyone cutting their landlines, no one calls any more, they text…at least that’s what Kim tells me when I rail at her to just call and short-circuit the texting back and forth nonsense. Can I travel alone by bus, taxi or car. Once again, don’t these people know about Uber and Lyft? As for buses, that ship sailed for me years ago. It’s good they didn’t ask about subways, because I have avoided them like the plague for years. And I’m conflicted on the car issue. I drive a truck now and for what it’s worth, its an EV. What they should be asking is stuff like, “Can you figure out the self-serve gas pumps?” and “Do you know the various types of EV plugs and how to unplug some asshole who is hogging the EV charger when its your turn?” Do I need help eating, bathing or dressing? Well, I do like going sockless more and more, and I always need help deciding when it gets too cold for shorts. Does that count? I’m OK on bathing, but my track record on eating leaves a lot to be desired. I used to east too much and now I may not eat enough. I’ve always eaten the wrong kinds of food, but that will never change until the day I die, I’m sure. Household chores is a complicated issue. Kim won’t let me shop for groceries because apparently I am an impulse buyer and always get too much of the wrong stuff. As for housework, between the cleaning girls and Kim, I have managed to stay out of that and would rather take the Fifth than open that can off worms. Then there are questions about handling money and general memory. I wonder if these are grouped that way on purpose because I sure cannot remember all the places I have spent too much money. I think that may be more of a character problem than a functional disability.
Fall risk seems to be an area of medical concern, especially if you’ve fallen and you can’t get up. This is what those alarm devices are for and I’m glad to say I have not come to needing those just yet. There is also a full litany of questions about derisking your home with guard rails and grab bars. I appreciate a good grab bar, so I may have to fib a bit on this list of questions to be sure I get access to bigger stalls and things to help me stand up. They tag on a question about leaking urine at the end of that section, which I consider pretty sneaky. Doesn’t everyone leak a little bit of urine here and there as they get older? I don’t honk you have to be old and disabled to pee your pants. I’ve seen guys come out of the men’s room for years with telltale marks on their pants. It’s not so unusual. Luckily they don’t go so far as to ask about pooping your pants. Those of us with bariatric surgery excuses also tend to take the Fifth on that question. What is that old joke about never trusting a fart?
Then there are rafts of questions about social interaction and psychological stability. Do I feel bad about myself? Well I didn’t before you asked, but if you make me focus on all things I am less than thrilled with at any moment in time, I suppose I could work myself up into a lather and feel that I would be better of dead. Do people actually respond honestly to these questions? If I am a troubled soul, am I likely to tell the truth to a faceless survey and unburden my soul to a Vietnamese Woman doctor who sees me semi-annually and looks at the chart to remember my name? I have a better rapport with her nurse, who keeps telling me I am shrinking every time she measures me. They end the surveys with a dementia screening test. There isn’t one of those questions that I had trouble answering except when I read the answers in my health chart app, I honestly cannot remember answering them. Is that perhaps the ultimate test they are giving me?
Then I read through all the maladies and symptoms I am exhibiting that have basically not changed in five years of coming to this doctor. She has changed my hypertension meds ten times so far and has me up to five different meds trying to find the exact right balance to keep my systolic and diastolic pressures low enough and my pulse rate high enough. You see, I have diastolic pressure right where it should be (that’s the one they always told me was most important), but my systolic is stubbornly higher than it should be. Actually its much higher in the left arm and only slightly too high in the right arm. Given that this is supposed to to be systemic, that does not give me great faith in the BP measurement process, which has been an issue for me for years. Now my resting heart rate is considered too low because it often dips below 50 and there is worry that I might pass out. I’ve never passed out. I don’t feel dizzy. Fewer beats that still deliver enough exogenous to my body seems like a good thing, right?
Who the hell knows. What I do know is that my annual wellness check consists of BP and pulse, a few deep breaths and a pinch of my ankles. That’s it, see you in six months. Be well. Strong like bull, right?