Health Issues
Kim du Toit
March 25, 2008
4:32 AM CDT
I don’t like talking about my health, because it usually feels like I’m whining, or that I’m looking for sympathy, or whatever. Most of all, though, I don’t like talking about my health because people will worry about me, and I’m not comfortable with that.
Finally, of course, I think my health is mainly a private issue. Well, things have changed a bit over the past few months, and I probably need to share them with you, because it’s started to affect not only my private life, but my public one as well.
Let me start off by saying that I’m doing okay, kinda. My life isn’t in any danger, anymore, but there was a period of time during the first couple months of the year when things did not look so good.
I’d been planning on having gastric bypass surgery, but kept putting it off, because I hate surgery and doctors and stuff, and I’m a guy, so surgery is almost always a last resort rather than a preventive measure.
With Diovan, my blood pressure had dropped to around 120, sometimes lower, so I felt okay about that.
Well, I started having gastric troubles—heartburn, acid reflux, the full catastrophe. (Nothing says “misery” like waking up at three in the morning, choking on regurgitated bile in your airways and esophagus.) So I started taking Zantac occasionally, if I felt an attack was coming on. The Mrs., who has suffered from this nonsense for years, was in the same boat.
Problem is with these things is that the side-effects are not that nice, either: insomnia, depression, kidney and liver problems, and what have you. If you take a lot of Zantac, as both I and The Mrs. had to do sometimes, there’s also a risk of pneumonia—which is why our bronchial congestion and bronchitis turned to pneumonia, and our mid-January breathing problems continued all the way till the end of February.
Worse still, I was (and am) unable to to any kind of physical exertion without running short of breath and feeling like my heart’s about to explode. So as I have a history of heart problems in the family, especially on my mother’s side, I’ve had to take things really easy. I can do physical work for about half an hour, tops, before I have to quit, and even writing can only last a couple of hours before my concentration disappears and I fall asleep. (The Mrs. has actually caught me sleeping on my puter during the afternoons.)
I am in the middle of writing about eight biographies, all of which are shamefully behind schedule, but I have to tell you, it’s like walking through a thigh-deep swamp—blogging is easy, biographies are hard.
Even worse, when I am capable of doing any kind of sustained physical exercise, the effort dehydrates me really quickly (think: Texas heat), and the next morning I get a visit from old Uncle Gout, and I have to resort to painkillers which drain me of even more energy, and cause insomnia.
[/7-year-old-boy mode]
Bah. This getting old thing really sucks.
Well, a large amount of this also has to do with my being overweight, of course, so I’m busy jumping though the several hoops the insurance company insists I must before having gastric bypass surgery which, all going well, will take place sometime in early May. I’m hoping that this will kick-start my recovery, but the gloomy side of me is just resigned to living like this for the rest of my life: two steps forward, one step back—or, occasionally, three steps back, with a stumble or two thrown in for good measure.
I have always been an even-tempered, upbeat and extremely healthy kinda guy, so all this is new to me, especially the frequent bouts of malaise—but please understand, I’m not talking about clinical depression, which is another thing altogether. I don’t have that.
All this stuff is completely alien to my nature, and I’m doing my best to fight it all, and sometimes failing, sometimes succeeding.
Also, over the next couple of weeks I have some visitors coming in from out of town, and I’ll have to look after them (AARs will follow their several departures).
Then there’s the home improvement project from hell—planned for long ago, and now at its mid-point, which means that the front yard looks like the Western Front circa 1917, the backyard looks like Stalingrad circa 1942, and the inside of the house resembles a Bangalore flea market. With a (very) limited budget, it means hard work from the whole family—and in my weakened state… fach, I don’t want to talk about it anymore.
So my life sucks tennis balls through a tailpipe at the moment. Bear with me for a couple months, and normal service will, I hope, be restored. Let me assure everyone that blogging will not be interrupted, however, as it is the one activity which allows me to blow off steam (like I’m doing now, as a matter of fact).
Oh, and by the way, to add to my joyous mood, The Mrs. isn’t feeling so well either—in fact, she’s been feeling worse over the past year, for almost precisely the same reasons except that she’s had the added stresses of corporate life and hellish schedules, spread out over international time zones. But I’ll let her tell you about that, if she wants to. All I can say is that when I complain about my reflux, she laughs scornfully, and then hits me with a stick. Compared to my Johnny-come-lately reflux, hers has been a constant companion for nearly a decade.
She, too, has corrective surgery in her near future.
Wheee.
Now, a couple of requests. Please do not flood my email Inbox or Comments with suggestions or sympathy, because that is not the reason I’m writing this. In fact, it makes me feel worse when that happens. I’ve seen several doctors, and I’ll be following their instructions over the next few months to try to get on top of this. Drugs and surgery, for a guy who has seldom needed more than the occasional Ibuprofen or Tylenol to get by… oh, joy.
Can somebody kick a hippie for me, just to make me feel better?
.
Seriously though, hope everything goes well for both of you.
. However....the fatigue and general malaise you describe might be attributed to sleep apnea. One of the signs of sleep apnea is falling asleep during your normal daytime activities. You mentioned you are overweight: that is very often one of the characteristics exhibited among apnea patients. I realize you have a lot on your medical plate right now, so I don’t want to cause you any more undue despair, but sleep apnea is easily resolved once it’s been diagnosed. No surgery or invasive procedure is required.
