Tag Archives: health

New Perspective, New Goals

Today marks one month since having open-heart quadruple bypass surgery, also known as CABGx4. And I am still amazed by the fact that a team of surgeons cut me open, fixed my heart, and put me back together.  I’m still trying to wrap my head around it- how that all works, how it’s even possible to do these things.  Every time I think about it, I am reminded of how lucky and blessed I am.  I am humbled and sometimes get emotional as all the different possibilities of the last month play out in my head.  Open heart surgery is the kind of event that brings into focus a new perspective.  At least for me, anyway, it has.  And the long, boring recovery forces you to reevaluate your goals and make new ones. 

The last month has been quite a rollercoaster ride.  It’s been trying, depressing, and boring with seemingly never-ending days.  But it’s also been good in some ways.  I have a new lease on life.  I have been forced to slow down and take inventory of what is important to me.  I’ve made new goals.  And I have already exceeded my own expectations in this first month of recovery.  For example, on the first day of recovery, while still in the hospital, I could barely walk 20 steps.  And I’m still mad at them for making me get out of bed on Day 1.  Fast forward to Day 30: I walked 1.25 miles by myself.  It was at a decent pace, took me 30 minutes to do the loop in my neighborhood.  And I felt pretty good after.  If you had told me on the first day that I’d be able to walk over a mile by myself in one month’s time, I would not have believed you.  Day 1 was overwhelming and nothing seemed possible. 

I still have a couple weeks of restrictions for this first six weeks of recovery.  I’m limited in how much I can pick up; nothing more than a gallon of milk.  My movements are limited; still not supposed to raise my hands above my shoulders or bend over to pick up anything off the floor.  My activities are limited; still not supposed to do any housework or yardwork.  This level of boredom is cruel and depressing.  But I have been testing my limits the last couple weeks as I’ve felt better.  I’m not doing anything that hurts or doesn’t feel right, but I am progressing nicely.  I can load the dishwasher now.  I can feed the dogs now because I’m not uncomfortable bending down to the food container.  I can make my own lunch and do some light cooking.  All these little victories are adding up and creating a self confidence that was absent one month ago.  I’ve come a long way in one month and am doing much better than I imagined. 

I have a group chat on Facebook with my kids.  About two to three weeks ago I messaged them that I was now able to shower by myself without assistance.  A few days after that I shared with them that I had made my own lunch.  Days after that, I made a full dinner with some help from my wife.  The little steps of progress were very pleasing and boosted my morale.  Little goals, little victories.  And those lead to bigger goals and bigger victories.  I’m 54 years old but some of my goals early on in my recovery have been on the level of a four-year-old trying to impress his parents.  “Look, mom, I went potty by myself.”  Or “Look, dad, I put my shoes on by myself.”  I’m having to change my perspective about the goals I make.  And this part is very humbling to me.

Today my goals are to walk at least 5,000 steps per day.  I’ve achieved that a few times in the last couple weeks and this week I have done it five days in row so far.  I also want to walk the 1.25-mile loop in my neighborhood every other day.  Next week I’ll look at doing a little more if I feel like I can.  I don’t want to overdo it, but I don’t want to be stagnant if I’m capable of doing more.  For a long-term goal, there is a 5k coming up in March of next year that some of my kids are involved in that I would like to be part of.  That gives me six months.  I don’t know if I’ll run it or walk it, but I will finish it.  Not related to the heart issue, it’s been a long time since I’ve been able to run due to foot issues, including having to get an artificial joint put in my right foot.  Maybe I’ll run that 5k, maybe I’ll only be able to walk it, but I will be there. 

I’m still in some pain, especially in the leg where they harvested the vein to do the grafts on my heart.  I still have problems getting comfortable when I go to sleep and sometimes wake up in excruciating pain because I rolled or moved wrong in my sleep.  A deep cough or hard sneeze feels like someone is trying to open my chest with a crowbar.  And hiccups are horrible.  But I still think the hardest part is the boredom.  I think that will get better in a couple weeks when these initial restrictions go away and the doctor tells me where I am and what I am allowed to do for the next phase of recovery.

My wife is an absolute saint for taking care of me.  And even more so for putting up with me.  I am irritable, moody, and hard to deal with sometimes.  It’s been one month since surgery, but it’s been one month plus one day since I quit smoking.  I think I’m handling that fairly well for the most part.  But I also still get a craving for a cigarette once in a while and I can be a real jerk when the craving is getting the best of me.  I quit smoking “cold turkey” once more than 20 years ago and that lasted for six years, so I know I can do it.  I think that if I weren’t so restricted in what I can do currently, I might already be past the hard part of quitting.  I’ll get there. 

One month down.  Many more to go.  I think the hardest part of recovery is now behind me.  The first week and a half of not being able to do most anything for myself was not fun.  I don’t like being completely dependent like I was.  But now I’m feeling pretty good.  I am able to do more than I thought I would at this point in my recovery.  My follow-up appointment with the surgeon was great, everything is as it’s supposed to be.  The scar on my chest looks good.  Everything is healing as it should.  I’ll find out more next week when I see my cardiologist.

Thank you to those who reached out with well-wishes and prayers.  I felt the love.  Thanks for stopping by Story of My Life and being part of my journey.  Good Day, God Bless.

Dave

The Frist 36 Hours

Most of this story is true, I think.  Some of it was hallucinated.  A portion of it had to be told to me because I had no recollection of what was going on during part of it.  Some of it was dreamt and some of it was just there when I would close my eyes, like a video that only I could see playing on my eyelids, all while being wide awake.  None of the first 36 hours or so after I had open-heart surgery was pretty.  For a bit, I didn’t know what was real or what was being made up in my drug-induced imagination.  And I have no idea what all medications I was on at any given time during or following surgery, but I think the combination of all those drugs made my comprehension of current events questionable and my memory of those events a little whacky.  But this is how I think it all happened.

The first thing I remember after surgery was waking up with some kind of endotracheal tube in my mouth running down my throat.  I don’t really remember the tube being removed, but I do remember the pain from the tube being removed.  It hurt my throat.  I also remember darkness and calling out for help.  I remember being scared, but I couldn’t remember why I was there or how I had gotten to where I was.  At that point, so I was told later, I became uncooperative and combative with the nursing staff.  I don’t remember that, but I believe it because I can remember how scared I was.  I do remember accusing the nurse of purposely trying to let me die because she wasn’t helping me.  That’s what I thought anyway.  But of course, she was helping me, I just couldn’t see it.  I remember asking and begging for them to let me see my wife.  My wife was by my side that whole time, holding my hand.  But I couldn’t recognize her and, according to her, I thought she was trying to kill me as well.  All of this was in the first few hours of being moved from surgery to the Cardiovascular Intensive Care Unit (CVICU).

The next little bit of time would not get any better.  I found a new level of pain as the different medicines wore off following surgery.  This is a pain scale that replaces the old 0-10 scale that a doctor would use to ask you to rate your pain.  There is not a cap on this newfound scale, like with the number ten on the old one.  This new pain scale will go as high as you can handle it, and then some.  I honestly can not explain the intensity of the pain, especially when an unexpected cough or sneeze would blindside me.  This pain made it impossible to be comfortable.  It was difficult to sleep, to sit up, or to have a conversation.  Breathing hurt, swallowing hurt, and most other movements brought pain in ways I never before imagined.  I’ve always had a high tolerance for pain, but this was rough.  Thankfully, this new level of previously unexperienced pain only lasted a few days. 

Even with all the pain, the tricks my mind were playing were even worse.  Sleep would only last a minute or two at a time.  The dreams were so disturbing I would wake up trying to yell.  I did tell my wife about two of the dreams, the least disturbing of them, but I won’t be discussing any of that content here.  It’s a little scary to me that my mind came up with some of the images in those dreams.  And just as bad were the images while awake, when I would close my eyes for a short rest.  The colors and distorted scenes that were waiting for me with each prolonged blink is what I imagine Hell looks like.  I’ve served in two wars and have a few images that are forever etched in the dark, hidden parts of my mind.  Nothing I saw at war, not even my worst memory of war, can compare to the complete void of humanity that my mind was manufacturing for me to see.  I have no idea how my mind could possibly create such chaos that felt so real and imminent.  The dreams while asleep and the images my mind created while awake were bad.  Now add hallucinations to the tricks my mind was playing.  I have memories of and was also told by my wife later that I kept asking who was walking around me, touching me on my arm.  I kept thinking I was seeing someone walking around in my room.  When I would ask, my wife would point out that we were the only ones in the room, there was no one else there.  I don’t remember what their faces looked like, but I promise I saw people in my room that apparently weren’t real.  And I felt these imaginary people touch my arm multiple times.  I have no rational explanation for anything in this paragraph. 

My Worst War Memory

Somewhere around the second day after surgery, we had to address a minor complication called postoperative ileus.  That means my stomach didn’t “wake up” after surgery.  There was no movement down there.  Because of that, the doctor ordered an NG tube (Nasogastric tube).  Up the nose, down to the stomach.  It was used to drain the contents of my stomach.  This complication cost me two extra days in the CVICU.  I don’t remember the tube being put in.  I remember telling the doctor later that if they pulled it out, they better be sure of it because I would fight anyone that tried to put it back in.  I guess I remembered it being put in at the time, while in the hospital, but I have no memory of it now.  But I remember how miserable I was.  I still had chest tubes from surgery.  I had oxygen going in my nostrils.  I had more IV’s than I could count.  And the icing on the cake of misery was having that tube in my nose.  I was truly hating life for a brief moment.

I think the first 36 hours after surgery were the most miserable, most scared I’ve been in my life.  In my research leading up to having open heart surgery, the thing that worried me the most were the stories of recovery, not the actual surgery.  Recovery is a long process.  There are countless do’s and don’ts.  Restrictions on lifting, restrictions on movements.  Restrictions on food and medicines.  I never imagined that the initial recovery would include the mind tricks I suffered through.  Thank God that went away after a few days.  The memories of those twisted thoughts and images still choke me up, but at least they stopped.  Boredom is the hardest part now.  Days seem to drag on.  I want to do things, but I know I can’t if I want my recovery to go smoothly.  My wife has been amazing.  She’s doing all my chores and hers.  She’s taking care of me even when I’m difficult and unhappy about being unable to do things for myself.  I’m irritable.  I’m a little depressed.  And I haven’t had a cigarette in over two weeks.  My wife is a saint for putting up with me.  She is my reason for wanting to get better and to do better. 

I feel like the hardest part is behind me.  I’m still confused by the first 36 hours.  I’m actually still a little disturbed by the first 36 hours.  I’m sure it was a combination of shock, pain, and medications.  But that still doesn’t make it any less troubling in my mind.  Thank you for suffering through this post with me today.  I believe most of it to be true even if I don’t remember it all.  Good day, God bless.

Dave

Just In Case

If you saw my recent post about my upcoming heart surgery, you know I have a lot on my plate lately.  You might also know the heart condition was found somewhat by accident.  In all the tests, the imaging, the consultations, and doctors’ appointments looking for the cause of my almost two-year-old headache, we found something else.  Well, we found a number of little, inconsequential things.  But we also found a big thing going on in my heart.  And the blocked arteries have nothing to do with the headache, so I’ve been told by the cardiologist, so we’re still trying to figure it all out.

In my younger years, I was always of the opinion that I didn’t want to know.  I didn’t care to go to the doctor because I could handle whatever was ailing me and tough it out.  And if there was something seriously bad, I wouldn’t want to know anyway.  Let it run its course, and I would be fine- or not, but it wasn’t going to bother me either way.  Plus, if I found out something was seriously wrong, I might have had to rethink my whole philosophy of my fantasy that I was invincible.  And we were all invincible at one time or another in our lives.  Well, my invincibility has been fading for about a decade now. 

I have never been afraid of dying.  And I’m still not, even though I have feared that it could have happened a few times in my life.  Most notably, once in Iraq and once in Afghanistan.  Even then, I wasn’t scared of dying, I just wondered if I had done everything I needed to do or could have done for the ones I would leave behind.  That’s always been my fear, did I do enough?  For me, I am confident in my faith, so I know my death won’t be my end.  I’ve never claimed to be very good at being a Christian throughout most of my life, but I do remember an exact time in my life that I trusted in Jesus Christ and gave my life to him.  I am not afraid to die. 

Because I’ve always been a planner and preparer and organizer, I’ve been looking at where I am now in my question of “did I do enough?”  I’ve talked to my life insurance guy a couple times in the last couple weeks to double-check and make sure everything is up to date.  I’ve pulled out the folders that contain my pre-paid end-of-life arrangements.  I need to update my address with them.  I’m looking closely at my finances and investments.  I’m covering everything I can think of.  There is no over-thinking, no panic, no drastic changes to anything.  I’m simply preparing for just in case.  It’s the right thing to do.  And all of this has my wife in her ‘feels,’ being a little emotional while I make sure things are in order.  I certainly understand.  This is somewhat of an emotional time for both of us.

I, myself, have been a little irritable since having my heart catheterization and then hearing the results.  Some of it stems from the fact that looking ahead to heart surgery is not fun.  And even worse, I’ve looked at what recovery is going to be like, and I already hate it.  I’m bored now just because I’m not supposed to be overdoing things and taking it easy.  Can you imagine how freaking bored I’ll be for the months of recovery I’ll be going through?  Oh yeah, and I have to quit smoking.  Just thinking about that is irritating enough.  Y’all pray for my wife, she’s going to need it.  I’ve quit smoking a few times before, once for five years.  The first couple weeks every time is the hardest.  Seriously, y’all check on my wife.  She’ll have her hands full with me.

The procedure I’ll be having is scary, but it’s not that uncommon these days.  People have been getting open heart surgery for decades now and doctors have become very good at it.  So, I very much plan on living through my heart surgery, fully recovering from it, and eventually finding a new normal at some point in the future.  But, also, I plan on dying.  Hopefully, not for another 20 years or so, but it will happen.  And not to be a killjoy, but you are going to die, too.  We all have that in common.  It’s one of the flaws we all share with these human bodies; we all wear out and eventually die.  I can’t do anything about that, but I can do my best to prepare for when it does happen somewhere down the road.

First, I have to make it to the surgery.  At my post-cath follow-up, my doctor was running way behind.  By the time I got in for my appointment, he was rushing and I didn’t get much at all out of the visit.  While recovering in the hospital after the heart cath, he had told me what my heart looked like and all the problems he found.  But I was still a little high on the sedatives from the procedure, so I really don’t remember most of it.  At the recent appointment, I was hoping he would break it all down, spell it all out to me exactly where the blockages are and what exactly the dissections mean.  I even brought a notebook to take notes.  Basically, he just confirmed that I need surgery and referred me to the surgeon.  How the appointment went is another reason I’m irritable and moody. 

And, of course, I looked it all up on the internet based on the doctor’s notes I was able to get printed out at that appointment.  I think I mentioned it in my last blog post about surfing the internet for medical answers not being the best idea.  For real, though.  I looked up the percentages of each blockage from the notes and what the dissections mean, and now I’m pissed.  Honestly, based on what I found, they should have kept me and done surgery that day.  He even told me that he was surprised I hadn’t had a heart attack already.  I know!!  I found that on the internet.  But I also know that my mind is running a little wild with all of this and it’s almost never as bad as what you find on the internet.  But it is still frustrating because I don’t know what all will happen and when.  And that’s part of why I’m making sure I have everything in order for my wife, just in case.  It’s something we should all do from time to time. 

No matter how long or how much you plan on living, you should go ahead and plan on dying, even if it won’t happen for another 50 years.  Make a plan now for your loved ones for later.  Make their lives a little easier in the future if you can.  I, for one, plan on living until I die, and I plan on that being years down the road.  But, because I love my family, I also have to plan on dying as if it were tomorrow.  Because you never know. 

Thanks for stopping by Story of My Life today.  Some of this might seem a little heavy or dark, but it is simply the facts of life.  And because I love my family, I have to plan this way.  Give some thought to what I talked about.  Good day, God bless.

Dave

This Headache Saved My Life

In October 2023 I got a headache.  I still have it.  I was never one that suffered from frequent headaches before then, so this one was confusing and concerning when it was still there a few days later.  In my life, up until 2023, I would go months in between headaches.  They wouldn’t last very long and were hardly ever bad.  It was rare for me to have any kind of headache, especially like the one I’ve had for more than a year and a half now. 

But this headache was a beast.  It was intense, debilitating, and life changing.  The headache has always been only on the right side of my head.  Light or sound had zero effect on the pain level.  It made me nauseated.  It affected my vision.  I feel like at times it would cause me to lose concentration and not be able to complete a conversation.  I couldn’t focus.  I had short term memory issues when the pain was at its peak.  I have balance issues since this headache started.  And, maybe related to the headache, maybe not, I’ve passed out 6 or 8 times since the headache started.  I don’t think I’ve ever done that sober until recently.  Before going to the doctor, I got new eyeglasses in case that was the issue.  I also went to the dentist and had a broken tooth pulled.  Neither of those helped.  I knew the tooth pull wouldn’t fix anything since it was a previous root canal.  But I had to try, I was going on two months of continuous pain like I had never experienced before.  I was willing to try almost anything.

I made an appointment with a civilian doctor because my next VA (Veterans Affairs) primary care appointment was a couple months away.  I was prescribed some medicine that took the edge off, but it didn’t help the overall problem of a long-lasting, horrible headache.  And any relief was minimal and short lived with some pain still in the background.  When I finally got in to see my VA doctor, he ordered some tests and a CT scan.  Everything came back pretty normal.  Nothing stood out that would cause this kind of headache, although he did put me on blood pressure medicine for hypertension.  It didn’t help the headaches at all, but my blood pressure did come down to the normal range.  So, I guess that was good.

At my next appointment with my VA doctor, he ordered more tests, this time to include an MRI.  He also referred me to a neurologist through the Community Care program.  That means I could see a civilian neurologist quicker than having to wait for the VA to get me in.  This is where things started to happen.  This is also where things got more serious.  And by now the pain was having some very noticeable negative implications on my mental health.  I was not in danger of hurting myself, I want to make that clear.  But if God had decided to take me, I would not have argued one bit.  It was that bad.

The civilian neurologist I saw in February 2024 was going to inject me with Botox, apparently a common treatment for people suffering from migraines, which my headache was not.  Turns out, the referral was for Botox treatment.  First, she went over my MRI results and looked at the images on the CD that came with the written results.  But while looking at the images she changed her mind.  She told me, “I am sending you back to the VA to get a more appropriate neurologist.”  She meant that Botox wasn’t the answer for this, but it was still unsettling the way she said it.  She explained that the white matter lesions found in my brain from the MRI was more than a Botox treatment would fix and that the white matter was not the cause of my headache anyway.  And then she mentioned a couple things that the results could mean, including dementia at some point in the future.

I started doing a ton of research online typing the exact words from the MRI results into the Google search engine.  That didn’t help matters.  And it certainly wasn’t good for my mental health.  In the absence of answers, our brains will sometimes create explanations, whether correct or not.  And my brain was working overtime for a while.  Some of what I found in my research turned out to be correct in my case, but thankfully, much of what I found going down those many rabbit holes online was wrong and did not apply to me.  But there were still no answers to fix the headache.  I use “headache” in the singular form because it really is the same headache that started over a year and a half ago.  It’s not “headaches”, as in more than one or one that comes after the first one is finished, it’s just the same headache that’s been here this whole time.  It’s exhausting.

When I finally got into see the VA neurologist, things started going in a better direction.  There was a lot of trial and error in the beginning to see what would work, and we were trying everything.  I did end up trying Botox.  That did not work for me.  For the first night and the whole day after treatment, the pain was 10x worse.  I tried it twice, both times with the same results.  I tried the nerve block injection.  That was worse than the Botox.  I know it works for some people, but I will never do that again.  And then my neurologist referred me to the VA hospital in Birmingham, Alabama.  I drove up there and met with a neurologist, then later had video appointments with two others.  Their course of treatment after a few months of talking was to try a cervical epidural steroid injection because of the numbness and pain in my right shoulder.  I think we were hoping to see if the nerve issue in my shoulder was causing the headache.  It did help slightly with the headache, and the shoulder pain and numbness went away for a little while.  I will be doing that one again. But the headache is still here.

I think I’ve tried every medicine available, hoping to curb the headache pain.  The only one that came close to taking the headache away was Indomethacin.  I felt good for the three or four days I took it.  But then the side effects kicked in.  I will not share all the nasty details, but I will tell you that Indomethacin will do things to your stomach and intestines that will cause a scary amount of blood to come out while using the bathroom.  And that scared the hell out of me.  I discontinued that one immediately.  There have been other pills that probably work for some, but none worked well for me.  I do take a once-a-month self-injection called Ajovy (fremanezumab-vfrm).  This was the first medicine that helped consistently.  I’ve been on it for around six months and it helps greatly in managing the pain.  The number of debilitating headache days has decreased and the duration of the worst of the pain has gone down as well.  Still, nothing has alleviated the pain altogether. 

In the last year and a half, I’ve had half a dozen CT scans, a few EKGs, an EEG, a sleep study test, some kind of monitor I had to wear for 24 hours, three MRIs, and two MRAs.  I had never heard of an MRA until then.  The CT scans were worthless.  But the MRIs helped find other things not related to the headache.  For example, it showed chronic paranasal sinus disease.  And with that finding I was able to get surgery to fix my deviated septum.  That didn’t help the headache.  But I breathe and sleep a little better.  The MRA, which looks specifically at blood vessels, showed some slight narrowing of the vessels in my brain, but nothing that would cause my headache. 

While all the scans and tests and consultations found a few things here and there that were good for something, there has been nothing found to explain or cure the headache.  But my neurologist at the Pensacola VA always looks down every avenue that could possibly find something, anything.  She is proactive and cares about getting the best treatment and outcomes for her patients.  I know the VA has some good doctors that care, but much of the time going to the VA feels like being on an assembly line, just going down the line to whatever is next, on a time schedule, not always getting to cover all the patient’s concerns.  The VA is overwhelmed, I don’t fault my doctors, but that’s a discussion for another time. 

For whatever reason, my neurologist decided to send me to a cardiologist just in case something can be found there.  The cardiologist, who was through the Community Care program, didn’t understand why I was sent to him for a headache, but he said we would do a stress test and some kind of EKG type test with an X-ray that rotates around you.  The EKG stuff came out great.  The stress test, not so much.  The cardiologist ordered a heart catheterization based on the stress test results.  I know online when you Google it, it says a heart cath is “minimally invasive,” but I would not fully agree with that.  So, this heart cath ended up showing blockages and two dissections that will require open heart surgery.  The cardiologist said he is surprised that I hadn’t already had a heart attack.  I guess, fortunately, it was a good thing that the blockages weren’t bad enough to wheel me into the operating room right then and there, according to him.

My neurologist, Dr Sullivan, at the Pensacola VA is ultimately responsible for finding these blockages in my heart because of her willingness to look under every rock, go down every path, and think outside the box when it comes to treating patients.  Based on what the cardiologist found, it is fair to assume that a heart attack is imminent for me in the future unless we go in and fix the heart.  Could be tomorrow, could be a couple years from now, but it’s coming.  Either way, I will have surgery and get an extra 10-25 years of life. Honestly, I hadn’t planned on living this long or I might have taken better care of myself.  But since I’m already here, I might as well see how long I can go, right? 

Thank you, Dr Sullivan, and thank you to all the doctors that have played a role in what is going on with the headache and now the heart.  In reality, this headache saved my life.  Without it, I would never have known to have my heart looked at until it might be too late.  And know this: An EKG does not tell the whole story.  I had many EKGs, and they all looked good.  It wasn’t until I got the stress test that we knew something was wrong.  I remember a few times when the headache was at its worst, I prayed to God to take my headache- or me, it was that bad quite a few times.  If He had taken my headache, we might not know how bad my heart is. Be mindful of what you pray for.

Thank you for visiting Story of My Life today.  I know this was a long post, but I hope you take this to heart (no pun intended): Be proactive in your health and remember, not every medical test shows all the problems that may be there, listen to your body.  Good day, God bless.

Dave

Eat Good, Die Happy

I was chatting recently with a buddy of mine that I’ve known for more than 20 years.  During that time, we worked together at three different places over the years in various capacities in different types of jobs. And we have kept in touch for much of that 20 plus years. Mostly we would talk about our kids, our relationships, and what mutual friends and former coworkers were doing. Lately, most of our keeping in touch is about doctor visits at the VA and cooking.  Since we’re both veterans and like to eat, we have a lot to talk about on both subject. 

In our recent conversation, he brought up having to change his diet for his health.  I told him that’s the worst part about getting the lab results at a doctor’s appointment.  I went on to tell him that I don’t mind dying one day, but I’d like to die happy.  Seriously, if I knew I was going to live this long I certainly would have taken better care of myself.  Coincidentally, I had just had an appointment with my primary care doctor at the VA the same day we were chatting and, among other things, the doctor went over my lab results from the previous week.  I, too, need to make a couple small changes.

This conversation with my long-time friend sparked a memory from my very early teenage years.  I was probably 12 or 13 years old, at my grandparent’s house on one of the many trips we used to take to visit them.  One evening, Grandpa pulled something out of the refrigerator for a snack.  Grandma scolded him, saying that the doctor told him not to eat that because it would kill him.  Grandpa put the lid back on the container, put it back in the fridge, and went about his business. No complaining, no arguing. That was the end of that.  Or was it? 

The next morning Grandpa and I were up early, probably getting ready to go out on his boat or some other adventure on the Mississippi Gulf Coast.  At one point while getting ready for our day, Grandpa got in the fridge and had that snack that he had been warned about the previous night.  Did he forget about being chastised by Grandma?  How could he forget something as important as not eating a specific food that would kill him?  I couldn’t believe it so I chimed in and reminded him.  “Grandpa, you can’t eat that!  Grandma said it would kill you!”  Grandpa smiled and what he said still resonates with me today.

Grandpa said, “Well, I’ll die happy then.”  And that was it.  That’s all he said about it.  He didn’t ask me to keep it a secret.  He didn’t try to explain or rationalize it.  He just wanted to eat whatever was in that old butter tub that was used for leftovers.  I can’t for the life of me remember what the food in question was.  And I have no idea what his lab results were that would make him have to change his diet, but he didn’t seem to care.  He was going to keep being himself no matter what the doctors suggested.  He was doing what made him happy. 

I’ve always been that way with food.  I don’t remember ever turning down a cheeseburger or pizza or biscuits and gravy.  And I love to cook.  If you are on my Facebook page, you’ve likely seen hundreds of food pictures.  Some pictures of the food I cook at home, some pictures of food at restaurants we like to go to.  I have a drawer full of printed recipes and a ton of screenshots on my phone of even more recipes.  I love to cook and I love to eat.  My Facebook page and my belly are proof.

For much of my adult life I was able to counter the effects of eating all kinds of good food by staying in shape.  I should probably point out that when I say “good food,” that doesn’t mean healthy “good,” it means tastebuds “good.”  But anyway, I would run a few miles a few times a week, occasionally do a little workout, and, of course, being in the Army Reserves we did a lot of activities that encouraged staying in shape.  Well, at least in “good enough” shape for me.  At any single point in my adult life, I could have benefited from losing 5 or 10 pounds to trim up my gut.  But that never bothered me because I was healthy, in decent shape, and could run for miles.  Not fast, but slow and steady miles.  I felt good,  I looked good, I was going to eat what I wanted. 

Let’s fast-forward to me now being in my mid-50s.  Add the aches, pains, injuries, surgeries, and other issues from working hard all my life. I now find it considerably harder to counter those effects from eating what I want, when I want.  I can’t do some of the things I used to.  And I miss doing those things, like running, working a “real” job, and just being more active in general.  I have a long list of problems that have developed over the last 5-10 years from my previous military service.  I’m planning on doing a blog entry of all those things in the near future.  Especially now that we seem to be figuring out some of the issues.  Well, maybe not figuring it all out as much as managing things.  That’s a mess of a story for another time. 

My lab results at my recent appointment weren’t horrible.  There are just a couple areas I need to address, nothing dire.  But I want to address those areas without adding to what seems like a myriad of medications that I’m already on.  I guess I should point out that some of those medications are why my labs aren’t worse.  But I don’t want more pills, I want fewer.  And when I asked my doctor about downsizing my pill collection, he said there was only one medicine that he might consider discontinuing.  So, I have to decide to either eat better (as in healthy), instead of just eating “good” the way I like to, or get back to where I can do some kind of exercise regularly.  The exercise part has become difficult since getting a joint replaced in my foot a few years ago.  After two surgeries, my foot still will never be good enough to run like I used to. Or walk long distances or even stand in one place for more than a little while.

So here’s the plan.  I’m going to keep eating what I like to eat because being happy is important to me.  But I’m also going to mix in a few salads and some healthy choices.  I will get back on my step-elliptical.  I was doing that regularly before my last foot surgery. I think I can still do it because of the minimal bend it requires with toes.  I won’t do anything crazy or drastic to change my lifestyle all at once. That rarely works for anyone. But there a handful of little things I plan to do for starters.  And then eventually build on that.  We’ll see how it goes.

I think Grandpa had the right idea, to some extent, about dying happy.  He went on to live for about 10 more years after that early morning conversation we had sometime around 1983.  Apparently, whatever it was he ate that morning wasn’t going to make him drop dead on the spot.  And whatever it was, I’m certain he ate it whenever he could get away with it.  But he was probably smart enough to only eat it once in a while, and only while Grandma wasn’t looking. Especially while Grandma wasn’t looking.

I think this is the lesson I want to take from my memory of that morning with Grandpa: Being happy is important, but sometimes we have to weigh what that happiness brings against what the side effects or dangers will be.  Going to the beach for 5 hours can make you happy, but that sunburn is going to be horrible unless you take precautions.  Rock climbing can make you happy, but that fall will kill you, so you better make sure your equipment is right.  And of course, eating “good” like I always have makes me happy, but I have to fix a few things with my eating habits. 

Thanks for stopping by Story of My Life today.  I hope you enjoyed it and maybe got a little motivation from it.  Good day, God Bless.

Dave

A small sample of pictures from the last few weeks of my eating and cooking adventures.