Health perils

It’s that time of year again. Another journey completed around the sun. My 71st. And now I’m looking forward to the 72nd, hoping it’ll be a steady, uneventful ride. Wish me luck; I think I’ll need it. The trouble with growing older is that the body starts sending reminders of everything you’ve put it through.

I’ve lived with diabetes for quite some time now, a quarter of a century, kept in check with metformin and gliclazide. But even before that, back in my late 30s, I had my first real taste of pain from uric acid stones in the kidney. I still remember that morning: waking up to an excruciating pain in the back that spread down to a dull ache in the groin. That episode taught me that good health isn’t something to take for granted.

For many years, I used to be a regular blood donor, proud of doing my small part. Then one day, the hospital turned me down because my blood pressure was high. That marked the end of those donation days. Soon after, I was started on cholesterol medication too. Just to be safe, the doctor said, because diabetes, hypertension and cholesterol often travel together. Later, when my cholesterol numbers stabilised, the pills were stopped. But by then, aspirin had entered the picture “to thin the blood,” they told me. That little tablet would come back to haunt me years later when I was hospitalised for two weeks with diverticular bleeding. The blood had thinned a bit too much, and once the vessels broke, there was no stopping it. It was a frightening time, but I recovered, and life went on.

My eyesight began to falter about a decade ago. Glaucoma, the doctor said. Since then, I’ve been on long-term eye drops to slow it down. Lately, though, my vision seem a little mistier as if a thin film has settled across both eyes. The legs have also started to complain. Cramps in the calves and feet, but some good massage therapy has helped ease them. My left knee, however, is another story. The natural lubricant is drying up, and the doctor’s been recommending injections to keep it going. Then there’s the drier skin and eczema. It’s a constant irritation, but what really worries me is the thought of it turning into psoriasis, which my father suffered from. Thankfully, that hasn’t happened.

And finally, the latest in this long list: an enlarged prostate and elevated PSA levels. That discovery on my birthday last year was an anxious one. The tests and scans made me fear the worst, but with treatment and time, the numbers have come down. Still, it’s a reminder that age doesn’t come quietly; it makes its presence felt in all sorts of ways.

So here I am, a man full of prescribed drugs and quiet gratitude. Whether my ailments are typical of a 71-year-old, I can’t say for sure. But I do know that I’ve been lucky that every scare so far has found its resolution, lucky that I can still walk, still see, still write these thoughts down. As I step into my 72nd year, I carry all these stories in my body, each a little scar of survival. May there be more good days than bad ones ahead, and may I have the grace to take them all in stride.