I didn’t know where our conversation would lead. I’m not an alarmist, I’m pretty peaceful.
I always feel great. No problem. Apparently, I have severe arthritis in both hips. They are shot and are bone-on-bone. I use a walker to walk because of my unsteadiness and the fear of falling.
My son-in-law reprimanded me, “You know this didn’t happen overnight. You were sick before the accident. You Slade women never go to the doctor.”
Because we didn’t need to.
“You wouldn’t walk on the Costco concrete floor because you said it hurt.”
“Well, it did. I was hedging against when I would feel the pain in my back later.”
My son-in-law, ready to debate, said what’s been on his mind for years. “All of you should have been going for annual medical check-ups.”
Why? We didn’t feel that bad.
“That’s no excuse. Today, you have all these things wrong with you. This didn’t start two years ago. It’s been going on for years.”
I know. I’ve had an irregular heartbeat all my life. I have lived with it. Today, they have a fancy name, atrial fibrillation of the heart. It’s called Afib for short. Some of the risk factors include high blood pressure, diabetes (Type 2), both which I seem to have.
The conversation had turned too serious for me. I belted out Tanya Tucker’s song made famous in 1992. “Well it’s a little too late to do the right thing now.” I laughed in order to take the pressure off the situation.
He wasn’t ready to drop the subject. He put on more pressure. “You’re taking all those pills. You’re just like my wife. She’ll go to work when she’s sick. Her sisters do the same thing.”
“Because they have jobs. They need to show up. Well, the accident saved my life. I’m taking all those pills because I have things wrong with me that I didn’t know before. Plus, I have to be ready to have hip surgery in December.”
“That’s what I’m telling you.”
I turned to my daughter, “Listen to us. It used to be that all my conversations were about projects I was working on; now all I ever talk about is the next doctor visit, hospital appointments, my new primary doctor, how many times I wake up in the night, and how we will navigate the next drive to Durango. Has life come to this?”
It seems we aren’t ready to hear until we are ready to hear. I’ve given my own advice to many people knowing they weren’t going to take it. They had plenty of excuses.
I also have had my excuses. I couldn’t believe I needed to go to the doctor just to go. I came from healthy stock. Our three girls shoveled snow and mud, worked alongside my husband and son hauling wood and rocks, holding a board, adding an extra room and painting.
Who needed a doctor? Living on the Blanco, without running water, and without an electric pole or telephone lines, conditioned all of us for tough situations. Two years ago, during the shrimp boil, with over one hundred people attending, the well went out, no water for the guests, but my children had the shrimp boil anyway. The guests learned how to flush the toilet with 1-gallon-jar of water and a twist of the wrist. No big deal.
The Blanco Fire and the 10-day evacuation was a bump in the road, we took it in stride. Our whole family moved to a ranch home and my children didn’t miss a day of work. A week later, to thank the people who helped in the fire and all the neighborhood who had to evacuate with us, our children had their annual shrimp boil. More than 150 came to the celebration. The fire came close, but no one was hurt and none of the houses were lost. We have all gone on with our lives. We all made it without a scratch.
So, when my son-in-law chided me about not having a yearly checkup, I let his words roll off my back. I am also very aware that I have some serious problems, but it’s a little too late to do the right thing now. All I can do is repair what is wrong.
Words mean nothing until we need advice. None is taken until one is ready to hear. When reality sets in, then we will roll up our sleeves, let them take blood samples, prick the finger, take the numbers on the scales as truth and make scheduled follow-up appointments.
Final brushstroke: Today, it’s a little too late, but I am ready to learn what I need to know. I’m taking my medicine faithfully, heeding test results, making sure to be at all my doctor appointments. I’ll do everything I need to do to before this hip surgery. I’m ready to throw off this walker and start driving again.
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