An Inheritance from My Dad

     My father commuted from Connecticut on the train every day to NYC till he was in his mid-seventies.  On weekends he transformed the wily brook on our property into a tamed stream and built a bridge; he sowed and reaped vegetables and fruits; he mowed two acres; he planted, then transplanted, a nursery of evergreens.  He never lacked exercise.

     Dad would slather mayonnaise on his sandwiches and layer each piece of toast or muffin with several swipes of margarine before adding the jelly.  Every evening after dinner he would enjoy a frozen yogurt.

     After their move to Florida in their eighties, Dad's new doctor suggested a cholesterol test.  The total reading was around 350 - off the charts.

     The doctor prescribed a cholesterol-lowering statin pill.  Dad began the treatment but within a short time resembled Big Bird.  His liver was malfunctioning.  The doctor prescribed another statin and another.  Dad couldn't tolerate any of them, and there weren't many to choose from back then. Both he and the doc gave up and Dad went back to his routine -  a bowl of cereal for breakfast with toast (covered in margarine) and banana, a sandwich for lunch (with mayonnaise), and whatever Healthy Choice frozen dinner my mother stuck in the microwave, followed by frozen yogurt.

     He lived to be 95.

     I am my father's daughter.  My body is on overdrive producing cholesterol.

     What is cholesterol?

     Cholesterol is a type of fat found in our blood.  The body needs cholesterol to function.  It occurs naturally in every cell of the body.

     HDL (High Density Lipoprotein) or "good" cholesterol is one of five major groups which enable fats to be carried in the blood stream.  Other lipoproteins which enable fats to be carried include LDL (Low Density Lipoprotein or "bad" cholesterol).  In healthy adults, approximately 30% of cholesterol in the blood is carried by HDL.

     LDL's function lies in its use in cell membranes, as well as the making of hormones and Vitamin D. However, since our cells take only what they need, excess levels of LDL can enter blood vessel walls and build up under the lining.  Deposits are called plaques.  The "good" cholesterol or HDL acts as a scavenger, picking up excess LDL "bad" cholesterol and delivering it to the liver, where it's broken down. If there is too much excess, deposits can clog arteries, restricting blood flow (hardening of the arteries).  A blood clot may eventually result in a heart attack or stroke.

     I have always lived a healthy lifestyle.  I've played tennis for forty years.  I go to the fitness center and use cardio machines, free weights, and long-and-short muscle machines twice a week.  As a New Englander I eat fish regularly - sometimes more than three times a week.  I enjoy fruits and I mix a fiber drink every night.  I am a lifetime Weight Watcher and panic when I'm five pounds overweight. Sometimes I'm so sick of salads for lunch that I rebel and eat a wrap.

     My HDL "good" cholesterol is very good.  Although it fluctuates, at this moment my LDL "bad" cholesterol is very bad.

     I had no discipline while the grandchildren visited.  I ate Easter candy, frozen yogurt (with hot fudge), cheeses, pastas, and cake.  I ate nuts and homemade breads and chocolate chip waffles with syrup.

      After many trials, the doctor found a statin I could tolerate without resembling my father's sunflower yellow.  It will have to suffice while I revert to my healthy diet.

     The doctor told me there's a monthly shot that's been developed which he's testing on a few patients.  It costs $800/shot.  Seriously??

     Thanks, Dad, for the inheritance.  I'll take my chances with your longevity any day.

A Doctor's Office in Florida

     One November a doctor (not my primary-care) ordered an ultrasound - a simple outpatient procedure at the hospital which lasts approximately twenty to thirty minutes.  I wasn't scheduled to have the test until the following April, and in-between I lost the prescription I needed to take with me.

     I called the doctor's office two days before the scheduled date to request another written prescription. "Please leave your name, number, and a brief message and the nurse will return your call," the answering machine told me.  I did as I was told.  No return call that day.

     I called back the next day to make the same request. Again I heard, "Please leave your name, number, and a brief message and the nurse will return your call."  I explained what I needed and described the urgency for the ultrasound test the next day.  If the doctor couldn't fax me the paper, I was prepared to go pick it up.  No return call that day.

     Since my hospital appointment wasn't scheduled until the afternoon, I jumped in the car the day of the test and headed to the doctor's office in the morning. I signed in and knocked on the closed window. A sign on the glass read, "Please do no knock on the glass."

     "Yes?" the receptionist said.

     "I don't have an appointment but have left messages for two days that I have an ultrasound scheduled this afternoon and have lost my script.  I haven't heard a word."

     "Your name?  (I answered.)  Take a seat, please."  The glass window slid closed and I found an empty chair.

     "I don't know why anyone comes here, but their reputation is so good," the patient sitting next to me said, her long braid following her as she shook her head back and forth.  "There are too many doctors in here.  I had a reaction to a medication and I called this morning, but the doctor's gone on vacation. So now I'm supposed to see another one, but I've got to get back to work in an hour.  They told me on the phone there would be no problem.  I've already waited thirty minutes."  Her mouth turned down as she got up to approach the glass fortification at the window.

     Just then we heard pounding from the outside hall against the waiting room door.  "Let us in!" someone shouted.

     "We're stuck out here and can't get in," another voice yelled.  The pounding continued.

     The patient closest to the door rose to help.  His helpful willingness camouflaged his sallow complexion and sagging Bermuda shorts.  He fiddled with the door knob but couldn't disengage the lock.  The next patient in the row jumped up. "Let me see what I can do, old-timer," he said. When the lock disengaged, a torrent of patients poured in and lined up behind the closed glass doors.

     The woman with the time issue stood at the front of the line.  "Excuse me," she said, knocking on the glass till it shivered in its tracks.  "I'm sorry to cut in," she said to the person signing in, "but I have to get back to work."

     The glass slid open.  "Mrs. Carey?" I heard.

     "Yes," I said, out of my seat like a kid's jack-in-the-box.

     "Here's another copy of your script," the receptionist said, handing me the paper and swiveling an evil eye toward the woman who'd knocked.

     "Thanks," I said, spinning in place for a quick retreat.

     "You're next," the receptionist said to the irritated patient who'd spoiled her day. "Please enter the door to the left. The rest of you, please sign in," she said, slamming the glass shut.

     When I got home, I found the original script buried in my calendar.

     On my follow-up visit, I bit the bullet.  "I've been coming here a long time," I said to the doctor. "May I have a private conversation with you?"  I proceeded to explain the situations that had arisen in one day's visit.

     "If you don't tell us the issues, we'll never know," the doctor said.  "Would you be willing to explain all this to our office manager?"  He led me down the hall.

     The day before I visited that doctor the following year, I got a personalized message on my answering machine confirming my appointment.  When I arrived, the glass doors above the sign-in sheet stood open. Inside the office, one staff member was answering the phone, another writing receipts and scripts for patients exiting. "Good afternoon, Mrs. Carey," the receptionist said with a smile.  "The doctor will be seeing you in about ten minutes. Meanwhile, please sign in and let me know if there's anything I can do for you."

   

   

   

Happiness Is a Cheap Drug Part I

In anticipation of the 2014 publication of my book, ELDERLY PARENTS WHO HAVE ALL THEIR MARBLES: A SURVIVAL GUIDE FOR THE KIDS, I've invited fellow writer and practicing pharmacist Don (D.G.) Weiss to be a guest blogger.  The excerpt below is from his second mystery novel ALL THAT GLITTERS and concerns the importation of cheap drugs purchased on the internet from Canada.  This is in no way a reflection on the vast majority of legitimate drugs purchased from Canada, but as always, "caveat emptor."

Big Jim Tobias knew that tonight he was going to get lucky.  His date Charlene more or less hinted at it.  What Charlene didn't know was that Big Jim wasn't necessarily big all over. He was having a certain issue with male function that required chemical help.  The cost of Viagra was outrageous but Big Jim was willing to pay the price.

While Charlene was in the ladies' room, Big Jim took the Viagra pill from the supply he had just purchased over the internet at www.Saveonprescriptiondrugsnow.com. He wouldn't disappoint Charlene later on.  Of that he was certain.  He'd also saved about $400.00 on his little blue friends.

An hour after they got home, he rolled off Charlene pretty pleased with his performance.  Charlene seemed happy as well.  After about ten minutes, she started nibbling his ear.  It didn't take Jim long to respond.  Again he lived up to their expectations.  She purred like a kitten and they both drifted off to sleep.

About two o'clock in the morning they made love again.  Jim didn't even have to wait for his erection. It was already there.  As a matter of fact, it had never gone away.

They slept until eight in the morning.  Jim's erection was still there but it was now painful. Charlene wanted to make love again and wanted to be on top.  He was grateful that she was facing away from him, because while she seemed to be satisfying herself, he was in agony.  He had to do something and soon!  Charlene finished and got up to go to the bathroom.  Big Jim pulled on his underwear and his jeans and tried with some difficulty to stuff his swollen, painful member into his pants.  Charlene came out of the bathroom.

"Where're you going, sweetheart?"

"I'm sorry, but I've got to meet a guy to talk about a drywall job in Ocala."  When he kissed her goodbye, Charlene swore she saw tears in Big Jim's eyes.  He put one foot in front of the other at half-speed all the way to his jeep, then headed for the nearest emergency room.

"What a sentimental guy he is, and my god what a lover!"   Charlene went back to bed, smiling.

Read Part II next week!