Take Charge of Your Medical Care

 

A spinal fusion. Photo © Lloyd Lemons

Don't wait for someone else to make you better.

I’ve been “doctoring” again! Don’t worry, I won’t belabor the point with a description of my ailments, but I will give one fair warning: Don’t trust completely in any healthcare institution or its workers to get the job done correctly and efficiently every time.

Most are dedicated true professionals, and others … maybe not so much. Some are inexperienced, some would rather spend their time elsewhere, and some may simply not be up to the task. Then, of course, there are technology problems. “Our computers are down today!” goes the usual refrain.

I recently had a severe pain in my back that my doctor thought required a CT Scan to ascertain the source. I paid the $200 copay, got the scan, waited four days, and heard nothing. No phone call, no posting on my healthcare portal.

Follow up and follow through

So, I attempted to chase down the answer. This step is often a patient necessity in modern healthcare. It’s just one of the steps in taking charge of your health.

I couldn’t wait any longer, I reached out by phone, started calling the pros, and asking questions. It took a few calls when, eventually, I found someone with the answer: my CT Scan “turned up nothing.”

I still haven’t been able to see the scan on my portal or discuss the pain or CT results with the doctor.

My doctor said the next step is to check in with my neurosurgeon and get an MRI. It’s another scan, but much more comprehensive. I paid another $200 copay, got the MRI, waited a week, and heard nothing from the specialist’s office. No phone call, no text messages, no smoke signals, no posting on my healthcare portal.

So, again, I was forced to chase down the results.

After leaving three messages on the specialist’s phone, I finally got a call back from the surgeon’s assistant. She saw in the MRI progressive signs of aging, but nothing that would require further surgery at this time.

Expensive and often disappointing

So, what is the new source of my chronic pain? I don’t know. Apparently, no one knows. I’m out $400, several hours of my time, and more than two weeks of wondering, and still no closer to discovering the source of my pain.

I received an apology for the process taking so long (I’ve still not heard from the doctor), and a suggestion from the assistant to see “one of the pain management clinics around town.” I was also promised a view of the scan on my portal in a few days. It’s been two weeks, and it’s still not posted.

I learned a long time ago that healthcare is a team effort. Sometimes, when part of the “team” is lacking, you must take it upon yourself to ask questions, make phone calls, do your own reading and research, and sometimes do some legwork.

Why are things like this? And is it like this for everyone in the United States healthcare system? I can’t answer that question. But I know that healthcare relationships have noticeably changed for me in recent years. I’m 72 years old and I believe I have fallen into the category where limits are set by a little-known feature of our system called: Age-Based Healthcare Rationing.

It is important to understand your vital signs, including blood pressure, heart rate, respiration rate, and temperature, and what they mean for your health. But there’s more to do.

Read the professional literature about your health concerns. Good, solid literature is available on the Internet. Some of the proven sources I use are Johns Hopkins University, Mayo Clinic, the National Institutes of Health, the Cleveland Clinic, and others. You’ll read about clinical trials, cutting-edge research, and the experiences of other patients who have gone through health concerns similar to yours. It will give you a big picture overview, then you can discuss these ideas and remedies with your doctor.

For the best healthcare outcomes, take charge of your health by choosing a healthy lifestyle. And by all means, don’t sit on the sidelines waiting for someone else to make you better. Get involved in the process. Know your family history. Be prepared for medical appointments. Talk to your healthcare team. Ask questions and tell them when you don’t understand and need extra clarification.

I haven’t gotten to the bottom of my dilemma yet, but I promise you, I will.

.  .  .

For further reading:

I don’t think my doctor is listening to me.

None of my writing is produced by AI.
I occasionally use AI to create a photo, but it’s always noted.

We Expect Too Much From New Year’s Resolutions

New Year's Eve in Mt. Dora, FL © Lloyd Lemons

I think it’s safe to say, we all want to make 2025 better than 2024.

I want to recover my mindset and energy from where they were at the end of 2019, pick myself up, dust myself off, and move forward with renewed hope. I wrote that sentence at the end of 2023, and (surprise!) my “want” didn’t happen. I’m repeating it this year but not as a resolution—as something more powerful—a fresh way to face the world.

Our way of life is excessively angst-inducing. It completely went off the rails with COVID-19 and continues today with enormous political uncertainty, domestic and international terrorism, and religious wars around the globe.

Can we ever stop fretting over this insanity? How can we clear our heads, restore our hope, and enjoy renewed peace of mind?

I'm no longer one to create a list of New Year's resolutions. I don’t think making a list of promises to myself that begin on January 1st is the answer. A resolution may help my sleep cycle or improve my diet, but it won’t change my attitude toward the world and relieve stress. Personal growth and change don’t happen with New Year’s resolutions, they happen with introspection, and setting ongoing intentions.

For those of us who resist making New Year’s resolutions, you must admit, that something about January 1 still excites us about the potential of the next 12 months. Maybe we’re jazzed by the swell of glee from the revelers who enjoy the circus-like atmosphere surrounding New Year’s Eve.

The beginning of the new year serves to wake us from our asleep-at-the-wheel mentality. It reminds us that life is finite and to live intentionally we need to enjoy peace of mind. So just maybe it’s time to take stock of what we’ve accomplished and look forward to how we can continue to grow and become better humans. It feels like a good time to hit the reset button on our lives and work towards less worry and more self-discovery.

Make a bubble

One of the best ways to start a more contented life is to remove yourself from the worldly bubble of hatred, heartache, lies, and angst. Stop traveling down that well-worn road of despair. Take the road less traveled, gather your family and friends, and create your own bubble of comfort to live in. Add things to your bubble that make you happy and feel right.

Change your point of view. Do what makes you and your family safe and happy. Keep your distance from the noise and danger around you. Put silent space between you and those you know are political mongers. Socialize with people whose kindness, intelligence, and friendship you appreciate. Rid yourself of those who foster divisiveness and anxiety. Read, listen, or watch programming that helps you grow and makes you think.

These suggestions may not be the advice you’d hear from New Year’s revelers but think of it as a sensible approach to maintaining your sanity, relieving stress, frustration, and that tenacious smoldering angst.

Marcel Proust once wrote something that may help you restore your mindset and energy.

This Virus Has a Tenacious Grip

An advertisement from the September 22, 1952 edition of Life Magazine

Trust science, not conspiracy theories

I've come to the end of my second bout of COVID-19. It first appeared on 08.01.2024, and I was pretty sick for 5 days. I started Paxlovid on day 4. My symptoms gradually eased during the following 7 days -- yes, I had the virus for 12 days. I think the Paxlovid helped because it kept me from getting seriously sick or hospitalized. But it had side effects, including fatigue, dizziness, and brain fog. So, am I better now? Better, yes, but 100%, no!

Each day is a surprise. Today, I feel pretty good. Yesterday, I was severely lethargic and cranky. The day before that, I was tired, anxious, depressed, and had slightly blurry vision. And so it goes—each day is a surprise. This irregularity of symptoms is often called long COVID or post-COVID-19 syndrome. It manifests the symptoms I'm experiencing and others, including headaches, shortness of breath, heart palpitations, and more.

It's unfortunate, but some people still don't believe COVID-19 exists. They call it the flu, or they quickly change the subject of the conversation because they don't have an adequate explanation for their lack of faith in science. I don't know where this virus will go from here, but I hope ya'll take heed; it can get ugly quickly. 

For further information ... 

COVID Surges Again

What About Long COVID?

Raw Squid Isn't the Strangest Food I've Eaten

Mahi Mahi caught off the coast of Oahu, HI. 

Humans get adventurous with their meals

One of my favorite lunchtime meals is a grilled cheese sandwich made with Stone-ground wheat bread with ample sharp yellow cheese melted between the slices and paired with a hot bowl of tomato bisque soup. Mmm, tasty!

My parents were working-class people, and I grew up on mostly simple foods. Oatmeal for breakfast. A lunchmeat sandwich for lunch, and maybe a big pot of homemade spaghetti for a special Sunday meal. Sometimes on a Friday night, we might have a fish fry and enjoy a large platter of Perch, a freshwater fish caught in the lakes around our Michigan home.

My folks also enjoyed having a platter of liver and onions for dinner (it was the cheapest of meats) which I hated but did my best to choke it down. My Mom liked to boil chicken hearts and gizzards, and as a ten-year-old, I shared a few plates with her. It took me another ten years to wise up and cut the organ meats from my diet.

Read the full story here. 

A Boy’s First Car

The days when cars were king. Thanks, Phillip Solano @ Pexels

Speed, adventure, friends ... what's not to love!

Sixty years ago, my hometown, Detroit, was still the world’s envy. It was the fourth most populated city in the U.S. It was known for its contribution to The Underground Railroad, a network of secret routes and safe houses used by enslaved people to escape to freedom.

It was the home of Motown, the record company that played a major role in developing soul and R&B music, with dozens of artists becoming world-renowned musicians and performers. 

Detroit was famous for its stunning landmarks, architecture, professional sports teams, and unique cultural heritage.

However, the city was most famous worldwide for being a hub for innovation and production in the automobile industry. It earned the title, The Motor City. It was the automobile capital of the world.

Read the full story here.

The Circle of Life is a Circle of Learning

Families learn together. © Lloyd Lemons

We are all students and teachers

Knowledge and wisdom never go out of style. It's something we continue to gather and a valuable gift we continue to share. No matter our age, the attainment of knowledge and experience continues to be an important and gratifying part of our lives.

The gratifying part is enhanced when we can share what we know with others to simplify their lives. Often, that sharing happens without us even realizing it.

My Dad was smart, not in the Ivy League sort of way, but in raw, rough-hewn intelligence. He never made it past the 10th grade, but he accomplished a lot in his short life.

We didn't have a close relationship. I think World War II took its toll on him. He had a lifelong inferiority complex because of his small stature, and his excessive use of alcohol clouded his judgment. And in hindsight, I don't think he ever understood the demands inherent in being a parent. But despite all that, he managed to accomplish impressive things in his 64 years of living.

I saw, I heard

Dad was an autodidact, a self-taught person. He built and repaired things. Once out of the military, he became a tool designer, boat builder, and woodworker. He renovated an old bungalow, became a barber, and started a service business with my mother. He designed and contributed to constructing a new building to house their company. He and my mother both worked hard to provide for their family. Then, as a retired guy, he drilled water wells for his neighbors so they could water their lawns and gardens inexpensively.

As a young person, I was disappointed by not having the kind of Dad who would play ball with me, joke with me, or spend quality time together. We may not have had a close father-and-son bond, but he was still responsible for teaching me many things that I learned vicariously.

The circle of learning

I once sat on the second-story roof of my grandmother's cottage, watching Dad and a couple of other men tear off old shingles and install a new roof. I was eight years old and wasn't allowed to help, but I was allowed to sit by quietly, watch and ask questions. I did so for two days.

My Dad built one of these in the 1950s. Digital image by Bard.

As a child, I watched how he managed the myriad details of building a cabin cruiser in our garage. A boat that took us into Lake St. Clair every weekend and was home to our family while on a two-week cruise through the Great Lakes.

When I got to be a teenager, Dad introduced me to the game of golf, using right-handed clubs. Being a southpaw, I hated it at first. It was awkward, and I rarely hit a good ball, but it likely played a big part in my becoming ambidextrous today.

My Dad wasn't one to proactively teach me things step by step or explain the process, but he allowed me to be a spectator and ask questions. And my frequent observation turned out to be an effective way for me to learn.

We all know there are countless ways to gain knowledge and just as many ways to share it. But as we get older, I think we sometimes feel like our teaching days are waning, and our ideas are looked upon as old hat. But that's not true.

We continue to learn new things throughout our lives and should continue to share what we know. We share with youngsters and oldsters, family and friends. It's how our stories and wisdom live on. Not all will listen, but we make an effort anyway.

When I talk with my grandsons, I often have the feeling that I'm boring them. They don't respond logically. I get the eye-roll, and I can see their minds working to process a hundred things at once. They grimace and try to change the subject. But something fascinating occurs. A day or two later, they come back to me questioning the very ideas we were discussing during that previous conversation. They may not have been listening, but they were hearing, and now we are sharing. Those seemingly unheeded bits of knowledge and wisdom have germinated in a place where they will flourish.

If you Google "circle of learning," you'll find charts and graphs that give all sorts of perspectives on the subject, but the bottom line is this: The circle of life is a circle of learning, and as elders, we are still very much involved in this activity. We each have a gift that we can use and share with others for the rest of our lives. Doing so imparts a life-affirming vitality. Being mindful of this helps us feel thankful, relevant, and it give us purpose. 

We have much to give and still so much to learn.

I'm Still Here, I Promise!

I've spent countless hours in waiting rooms like this. © Lloyd Lemons

I haven't been writing lately, and I feel like I should explain why. For 16 years I have been nursing some fairly serious vision problems. It started in 2007 with a torn retina and progressed into full retina detachment, then to glaucoma. First one eye then the other. My doctors have kept me from going blind, but it's been a challenge. 

The vision in my left eye is only about 5%. The vision in my right eye is a grainy 20/20 made possible by  radical surgical procedures and corrective lenses.

Then, two months ago I was given a new brand of eye drops. I had a bad reaction. 

The new drops distorted my remaining vision and made it impossible for me to read anything. For the past three weeks, I have been using drops that will hopefully correct the situation. They seem to be working, but it's a slow process. 

My Band-Aid solution
I have enlarged my computer display to 160% and can now resume writing for short periods of time. I'm also learning to use Google accessibility features, specifically Dictation mode to write with my voice, and Select-to-Speak to listen to what I've written. It's a little awkward for a keyboard guy like myself, but hopefully, I won't be forced to use it long term.

If you were a regular reader of my Substack newsletter, I apologize for dropping out as I did. I hope to be back on track real soon.