My Shit's Fucked Up

 Ah -- that great Warren Zevon song, covered by the great Kinky Friedman -- dead today at 79. It's about the ravages of aging -- ain't nothing you can do.

Sure -- eat better, lose weight, try Botox. But Mother Nature wins. One of my life's mentors, Vince Senior, used to proclaim that Mother Nature is a vicious bitch.

So I got my CT scan results today, and as my brilliant doc friend Barry said, the diagnosis is "Neck of an Old Man." 

And so it is -- "severe" stenosis of a few of the nerve outlets of my spine, which is what is clearly causing the shoulder pain and pins and needles down my arm. The good news is the spinal cord itself is largely intact, so the aging process doesn't mean I'm at risk of paralysis if someone rear ends me driving, or someone gives me a hearty "atta boy" pat. The risk is, over time, more pain and pins and needles.

Hey -- I can live with that, rather than face the prospect of cervical spine surgery. I would get it if the pain becomes debilitating, of course, but luckily now it reaches a 3, at most.

My doc agreed. He said if it was HIS cervical spine, he'd get PT, at most. A visit to the spine surgeon -- not, hopefully, for a long time.

Dr. Eric agreed: PT, PT, and PT, and maybe get the CD of the test, to have our friend Kenny take a look as well, to make sure the guy at the discount stand alone diagnostic center is correct. As usual -- great advice.

But for now, I enjoyed a couple of Stolis. Per my usual protocol, I didn't drink alone. I called my California sister and we spoke as I sipped -- using the nifty, insulated glasses D1 bought me for Father's Day. Indeed, it kept the big ice cube (last year's birthday gift) intact for a whole lot of time.

We caught up, and then I called my Wesley Chapel sister and brother in law, too -- to tell them of our plan for a 30th anniversary for our law firm, in November.

Wow. Three decades. How did that happen?

Tuesday night, Norman and Barry and I had dinner before our adult ed class, which is thankfully voluntary -- not a sentence by a judge.

Barry told us that Monday marks 30 years he has been at his job -- medical school professor, and attending doc at the leading medical center in Florida. What were they planning, we asked, to commemorate this milestone? Nothing, Barry replied.

And therein lies the lesson. If we seek fulfillment from our careers, no matter how august, we are sure to be disappointed.

I shared something I realized recently. My former boss, Ed, was a terrific lawyer -- kicked ass, took names, got great results and made a ton of money doing it. And yet his son, disbarred for acting the asshole several times, even after the Florida Supremes told him NOT to, is more famous. He's the subject of videos we all have to watch to keep our licenses current.

So have a great career -- within a few years, no one remembers. Be a dick -- become famous.

I just know I am MOST happy with my CT results. I never worry about my health until I get a vague symptom, and then I go all in. I figured Lou Gehrig's Disease this time, or maybe spinal cancer -- or at least a severely herniated disc requiring immediate surgery.

Nah. Just old man's disease. That -- I can live with --with the understanding that plenty of my shit is fucked up...