The Whack-A-Mole Of Aging

 So Barry and Phyllis well acquitted their duties as wonderful children to Bev, and on Wednesday Wifey and I made a surprisingly quick drive to far Western Broward for Bev's funeral. Barry spoke beautifully, and Rabbi Yossi provided the proper sanctification, and Wifey, the Ds, and I performed the highest of mitzvot -- helping bury a person. It's the highest because it's the one, as opposed to charity, or comforting, or even donating an organ!, that can never be repaid in kind.

From there it was on to Barry and Donna's house and delicious food and some drink (in cleaning up for the Shiva Barry found a bottle of Johnnie Walker Blue and I encouraged him (and he agreed) to open it to toast Beverly. D1 left with Patricia, got a flat, and had it repaired at the nearby Firestone "dressed in Shiva heels" as D1 wryly noted. Jonathan came, and later took his bride home, and Wifey and I stayed into the evening. 

Thursday the Shiva continued -- this time Eric and Dana and their girl Jen joined, as well as other friends of Phyllis from her years at USF and thirty plus in the Broward Schools. Some of Barry's work friends and colleagues came by, too -- it was a proper and warm sendoff for a woman who left quite a legacy.

And then Wifey and I returned to...aging. Her back and hip are flaring up again, and she's gone for more arthritic injections.

And I've had an unwelcome return of annoying but not really painful tension headaches and accompanying neck pain.

When it comes to health matters, I've been very lucky, but when anything rears its head, I assume the worst. High PSA? Metastatic prostate cancer, I was certain -- even researching all of the unpleasant and flawed treatments, until a biopsy and follow up MRI showed I just have, in the technical jargon of my Urologist Bob Puig "a REALLY big prostate."

Burps, vague stomach issues? Colon or pancreatic cancer or maybe both, until colonoscopies showed...nothing. I've had 3 since I was 40 and have now been cleared until I turn 69.

And I guess it was 10 years ago that I had the same type of headaches. My wonderful neighbor Jose Romano, now Chair of Neuro at UM, was kind enough to come over and give me an exam (D2, a recent Psych grad from UF, watched with a some interest) and then, just to make sure, had me get an MRI -- first I ever had. The tech said "Let me guess your music choice for the headphones," and he scored -- Lou Reed playing the long version of "Sweet Jane" as the machine clanked and banged away. To use the old Borscht Belt joke, they examined my head and found nothing -- and the headaches went away. I told Jose he probably didn't know that MRIs were curative. He didn't. And he and his wife Lupita await the birth of their first grandson -- I'm thrilled for them, of course.

After that, last year brought pins and needles to my right arm -- the constant feeling I had a spider web near my elbow -- might be a spinal tumor -- but a CT scan said just the same cervical herniations that bedeviled my Dad his entire adult life. The herniation was actually pretty severe -- my family doc said I could technically see a neurosurgeon, but no way -- spider webs beat the hell out of spinal surgery -- and PT chased away the webs in a few months.

So this am, Wifey and I went to sleep around 10 --she's got worse insomnia than I -- and she said "See ya around 3 am." Sure enough, at 330 I got up to pee, and she was asleep, but awoke as I was doom scrolling at 445, and that's when we agreed this aging was for the birds.

She had the REAL deal -- a stroke after she turned 64 -- but thankfully recovered pretty much fully. Meanwhile, far healthier friends than we -- like her friend Elizabeth, my friend Dave - and neighbor Ben -- all perfect weight, clean eaters, and major exercisers, left this mortal coil from heart attacks and a burst aneurysm. So ya never know!

I do know that last week I had vials of blood drawn for my annual "Executive physical" which includes blood markers like how clumpy my cholesterol is -- many results which my brilliant cardiologist brother Eric says are "kind of bullshit." But who knows what the exam will turn up next month. Hopefully nothing that keeps me from a planned NYE cruise from Puerto Rico back to Miami -- also celebrating Wifey's birthday and our anniversary.

Ah -- the year we married -- 1987. We were 25 and 30 and slept GREAT. In fact, we needed alarms to wake ourselves up early for work. We were thin and healthy -- no chronic issues except for my budding anxiety -- and that was treated with weekly tailgate parties and other social events involving vodka. Actually, the vodka still helps, but now, if I go past the shoe rule (martinis are like shoes -- one is not enough but you don't need more than 2) I forget a lot of what went on that evening -- so shoe it will be.

Joint issues? Julio Robla and his affable PA know me for the neck stuff and knee stuff and some shoulder stuff -- again -- whack-a-mole of maladies.

The Big Man decides, of course, but wow -- if he lets me stick around to see Baby Man and Little Man grow up, like Bev got to see HER grandsons from birth to adulthood, and maybe bless us with some more of those critters from D2 and Jonathan -- well -- I'll just keep at it with the medical mallets.