Hang On and Help Out

At least they're color-coordinated

Not to rain on anyone's New Year's parade, but honestly, hasn't it been a wretched year?  Or is it just the year?  If we're honest, isn't aging, which occurs every year,  a bitch?

I say this as a person who was diagnosed last week with something called atrial fibrillation, which I never paid much attention to as an illness when I was young and well, although I did notice that there were lots of ads on the evening news for blood thinners that had something to do with AFib.

Now I know.  Palpitations that I thought were an occasional bother, turned out to be caused by an electrical storm in my heart.  And the storm can cause blood to pool, which can cause clots, which can cause strokes. Oh, boy. 

All this I found out when a cardiologist called me on Christmas Eve (I knew it wasn't going to be good news).  He'd analyzed output from a monitor I wore for two weeks, and on the very last day I wore the monitor I had an episode of AFib.

Not to whine, but this was the same week I found out I'm allergic to a glaucoma med, plus I had  to have yet another bone scan to monitor my osteoporosis.

I told the cardiologist this when I met with him on Tuesday.

"All these things going wrong!" I said.

"Well, it's better than the alternative," he said, cheerfully.   He looked about 40 and very fit.

"What causes atrial fibrillation?"

"In your case, aging," he said.  "Now let's talk about blood thinners."  He got very involved in the merits of various meds they advertise on the evening news, which must have a geriatric audience.

Wait until you're 66, I thought.  Just wait.  You get chipped away at.

Yesterday, sitting around a table with my quilt mini-group for our annual Christmas party, I surveyed my friends and catalogued what these 60+ year-olds have gone through:  breast cancer (2), knee replacements (3), lung cancer (2), and now AFib (1).  And these are active, healthy, middle-class people who take care of themselves.   I see clients at the Berkeley Food Pantry who are my age, according to their driver's licenses, who use canes or who have come straight from the hospital after heart attacks.   Poverty seems to accelerate physical decline, which is entirely unacceptable.

We older peeps have gotten wiser with age, and many of us have more money than we did at 25, but there's illness and even tragedy around every bend, if you have your headlights on.   The AARP shows us slender, happy couples in sweats jogging around their retirement community, and God knows happy times are still possible, but let's get real.  At least one of those people is taking blood thinners to avoid stroke.  These decades are booby-trapped.

Anne Lamott says we're here to see each other through,  and I agree.  All we do is hang on and help out.

Anyway, happy New Year.  There are still rewards to be had.  I think.