The Pursuit of Knowledge
As I’m aging, I have to have more maintenance. I think of it as car maintenance. I have to get checked more frequently. The red light comes on more indicating a problem. In this case, it was a red mark on my shoulder. It’s not time for my annual skin check, but this is now the second interim visit I have had to make. Thanks childhood in Florida!
“Yes, I definitely need to take this one off, as the red coloring is concerning and can be indicative of skin cancer,” said the dermatologist. Great! Chunk off my shoulder. “And these two dark spots coming off the corner of your eye? I can’t be sure they are okay.” Great! Big chunk off my face. That particular one is definitely going to leave a scar. It might end up looking like a glorified wrinkle. I will call it an “uproarious laugh line,” although the downward trajectory sort of makes me look like I have resting sad face. Let’s hope they don’t come back with bad news or my uproarious laugh line will not bring me as much joy. I await the results. Let’s not forget the extra mark on my chest she decided to freeze off for good measure. I am quite a sight!
Later in the week I visited my cardiologist. It had been before the pandemic since my last visit to this specialist, but with two parents who died young from heart disease, and a propensity for palpitations, I decided to make age 50 the year of my return. I was told that my blood work and symptoms indicated it was a good time for a work up. I have now added to my gorgeous array of bandaids and ointments a heart monitoring device that can be seen through my clothes. But, I only have to wear it for a week and the advancements are incredible. The last time I did this, there were wires attached. This thing looks so space-aged by comparison. I fear that getting the heavy adhesive off might leave a mark, but it’s worth it for good heart health. If you hear a random distant scream, it might be coming from me as I remove it, though. To put it on, the nurse used a sand paper pad to scrape the skin clear of any oils or dead skin, then put a burning astringent on it and noted proudly that “this time I didn’t draw blood” before adhering the device to my chest. This will NOT be easy to remove.
Next week I get to return for an echocardiogram and a nuclear stress test, where they inject me with the dyes so that when I get on the treadmill I will light up in all the places where I might have blockage. Gulp. Here’s hoping for darkness. While these tests freak me out and cause my blood pressure to spike, I also know that they are the right thing to do. When my mother passed away at the age of 44 from congestive heart failure, she had been too afraid to get a stress test done. I will not let fear keep me from maximizing my potential at a long life. I miss my mother every day. I often wonder if she would have had a much longer life if she had actually followed doctor’s orders and gotten the proper treatment. Who’s to say? But I know that I will do everything I have control over to prolong mine. And sometimes that means being scared, facing test results, hoping for the best. It’s better than the alternative.
In the meantime, cheers to uproarious laugh lines and all the other scars that mean we are still living life. Take care of yourselves out there.