It is April 14, 2025. In addition to being my baby brother’s 58th birthday, it is the six month anniversary of my Mitral Clip procedure. I get to celebrate by taking one less pill after today. This morning I took the final pill in my bottle of blood thinners.
To commemorate the day, I got a nasty paper cut getting all my financial papers together in anticipation of doing my taxes this evening. Yes, I’m that person. While a paper cut on a person not taking blood thinners is no big deal, on me it requires applied pressure and several bandages to stop the flow.
I’m excited to eliminate this particular medicine from the lineup of pills I take daily – it takes so little to get me excited these days. Soon, I won’t be at risk of bleeding out if someone looks at me harshly, and I will be able to go outside on a windy day without bruising. While, I’ve always bruised like a peach, now it is more like a peach with hemophilia. I watched a mosquito land on me recently and after he sunk his beak into me he blew up like a water balloon, then exploded before he could disengage.
The last six months has had its wins and losses. While I had hoped for more of the former than the latter, I can say that the big win is I’m still here. A dear friend reminded me last week that I have my healthy lifestyle to thank for that. I quote, “… if you didn’t live the way you do, you would have been gone a long time ago.” That is a powerful statement – that I have basically kept myself alive in spite of all the obstacles. But, humbly, I know it is true and I wish more people understood that they have more control over their illnesses than common belief allows.
I’ve always had a fairly healthy diet, I’ve never had a weight problem or been addicted to food of any kind, so going from a relatively healthy eater to a plant based, mostly sugar free, teetotaler hasn’t really been difficult. I prefer eating this way. I feel so much better and my blood work is always perfect. To quote my cardiologist during my last heart catheter my arteries “are beautiful.” On top of it all, I’m a real joy to out with.
I do not believe there are “age related illnesses,” I believe there are illnesses that after a period of time of sedentary living, eating terrible food, and working stressful jobs, our bodies begin to give out. But, if we treat them better, they will take care of us longer. No, our bodies aren’t designed to live forever, but they aren’t designed to start falling apart after 40, either.
My diagnoses have nothing to do with my age. Honestly 61 isn’t really that old. Diabetes isn’t age related. Neither is cancer. All these illnesses are affecting younger and younger people as time goes on. The average American diet is horrific. In 2020, the CDC stated about 42% of American adults and almost 18% of American children were obese; not just out of shape, not just heavy, but obese. Obesity kills and it is not age related.
I wonder if forgetfulness or brain fog is something we have to expect as we get older. For example, I wrote a check to one of my grandsons for his birthday. His birthday is April 10 and mine is April 7. I wrote the check on my birthday and sent it out right away. My daughter called to tell us that while they had received the check, “thank you very much,” I had dated it April 7 – which is fine because that’s the day I made it out – but April 7, 1964.
“Mom,” she said laughing, “I think the bank only allows for 90 days.” Was this lapse age related or was it just because I have been filling out doctor and insurance forms ad nauseam and it was muscle memory? Who knows? Truth be told, until she called, I wasn’t even sure I put the check in the card at all. I’m not sure I’m forgetful inasmuch as I have run out of space in my memory bank.
In the middle of my cardiologist and pulmonologist is a new guy. His specialty is a little of both fields. He focuses on how the cardiac and pulmonary systems work together. This guy thinks my six month old mitral clip might be working “too well” causing fluid buildup in the cavity around my lungs (pleura). Something about it being too rigid, maybe it needs adjusting. Maybe instead of fixing the cause, he could just remove the pleura and problem solved… maybe, hopefully, possibly. He seems hopeful, but they all do on that first meet and greet.
So what’s next? I expected to be 100% at this point. I made the mistake of assuming that, six months post procedure, I would be celebrating finishing the Redbud Classic (although running has never been my thing) or spending my weekends competitive kayaking. Instead, a good day is only stopping once to rest between the house and the garden. Things aren’t quite as good as I thought they would be. But, I am still here.
I’m still here. I have God to thank for that. I have the prayers and support of family and friends to thank for that. I have the steadfast strength of Charles to thank for that. I am grateful for all of it.
But, also, I have me to thank for that. I’ve worked hard and I need to give myself credit sometimes. So that’s what I’m doing. I am grateful for me.
