These Are Not Your Hawaiian Islands

These Are Not Your Hawaiian Islands

By

Leo de Natale

Ask most people over age 70 about their health and you’ll receive a laundry list of ailments: high blood pressure, elevated cholesterol, diabetes mellitus (The Big Three), arthritis, joint replacements and cataract surgery. Most folks in this group will fall victim to at least one, if not more, of these ailments that burst the bubble of the bogus phrase “The Golden Years”.

I’m in that category and know from experience how difficult aging is. It is something we Baby Boomers are forced to accept as time exponentially accelerates. You can cry or laugh. I prefer the latter. There are the physical ailments requiring a daily dose of blue pills, pinks pills, white pills.

Another category is memory or lack thereof.  “What was I going to say?  I just thought of it two minutes ago.”  At first, memory loss is frightening- the fear of Alzheimers Disease steps up front and center.  But then you talk to aged friends and family members.  You discover you’re not alone.  It’s happening to them, too. 

          And then we arrive at the physical and visual shortcomings.  Most of us geezers deal with weight gain – “Gee, I can’t fit into the suit anymore”.  The weight scale disappears as the stomach grows.  You almost hear the scale saying “Oh, God, I don’t think I can take anymore of this.  I need new batteries!”.

          Somewhere around 70, the body physically changes.  Skin begins to sag.  The blue veins in my hands bulge and resemble highways on a paper road map.  My once taut skin is becoming flaccid and has the appearance of crepe paper enveloping my body – a new concept in body wrapping.

The one change that constantly amuses me is the rapid appearance of Seborrheic Keratosis (SKs), aka age spots. Yes, those brown spots of varying size that poof! litter your body overnight. While shaving I’ll say, damn, there’s another spot on my throat. SKs sprout up faster than a new Starbucks coffee shop.

          During my annual trip to Dr. Debby,  the dermatologist,  I’ll map out the latest batch of brown things that need to be inspected.  SKs are benign but they sometimes need to be differentiated from basal cell or squamous carcinomas.

There’s a certain rapport I have with Dr. D.  During my last visit I discussed a new crop of SKs that had recently popped up on my left temple.

“It seems the Hawaiian Islands have suddenly shifted from the Pacific Ocean to my head,” I said pointing to the spots. “It’s a real archipelago- a perfect replica don’t you think?”

          “Well, well, well, I think you’re right,” she laughingly replied as she inspected them with her magnification loupe. “Yes I definitely see Maui and the Big Island. Oahu, too!  I think it’s time to send them back to the Pacific.”

          Dr. Debby grabbed her hand-held liquid nitrogen device that resembles a thermos jug.   The device has a trigger and zip-zip-zap the islands are frozen.  Some discomfort but the SKs eventually become  scabs and disappear.

          I wasn’t finished.

          “Debby, while you’re at it, there’s another one here on my throat that just arrived,” I said. “Could you throw in that one?  It’s only going to get bigger and browner.”

          “No problem,” she said as she froze yet another annoying blemish. “This is your Early Bird Special!”

          I also mentioned  recurrent purple lesions on my left arm.

“What about this personal Rorschach test on my hand?, I asked, holding up my left hand with a fresh subcutaneous bleed.

“Oh,” those are ‘senile purpura’. “ she laughed again.  “They’re known as blood spots or skin hemorrhages.  Unsightly but benign.”

Senile is a horrible word. It’s a time marker.

          “Gee, Dr. Debby, just think,” I responded. “These inkblot tests weekly pop up on my hands and forearms,” I could rent myself out to clinical psychologists as an itinerant screening test. What do you see on this elderly gentleman’s hand the shrinks will ask.

          “Lots of wrinkles, a blood blister, and a bunch of gnarled, arthritic fingers – that’s what I see!”  I imagine a 30-year-old man suffering from a bipolar disorder would say after staring at the blob on my hand.

          At least the guy is honest. Rorschach interpretations many times are false positives.

Clint Eastwood’s last good movie, The Mule, was a portrait of an octogenarian fighting against the onslaught of aging. In an interview, country singer Toby Keith, who wrote the film’s finale song, said he played golf with Eastwood before filming began. During the conversation, Keith asked him what was his secret of staying young at heart.

“Clint looked at me and said ‘It’s easy. Don’t let the old man in’”, Keith replied. That’s a good way of looking at the fate that awaits us all. Of course, Keith wrote a beautiful eponymous country song, Don’t let the Old Man in. Pretty good recording.

The youth of each generation never have a clue. They’re too busy going to college, getting married, having children and working hard. Many parents will say they can’t believe that rapidity of time occurring while child rearing. They have some inkling of what’s happening as their family grows, attends school and college and repeat the cycle. Folk singer Tom Rush recorded a very successful album in the 1960’s. One song written by Joni Mitchell was the source of the album’s title: The Circle Game.

“And the seasons they go round and round

          And the painted ponies go up and down

          We’re captive on a carousel of time

          We can’t return, we can only look

          Behind, from where we came

          And go round and round and round in the circle game

          And go round and round and round in the circle game.”