It used to be simple matter to see the doctor. As a child you stuck your tongue out, said aahh, and that was it. All doctors looked senile and had a foul breath. Now it has become far more complex and doctors look like teenagers. You more likely to have your bum looked and poked at than your tongue.
I received a serious letter, that, since I had turned seventy-five the Government would like to make sure I would still have some years left without needing to be looked after. Could I make an appointment for a thorough investigation of my levels of health. It would take about one- and- a- half hour. I like their optimism and clear despair of having to look after another grand-pa. It hints at a chair in ‘blue Haven retirement village’ with a bus trip to the Tulip Festival, nurse wiping my chin if not something else as well.
The letter gave details of what the health assessment would comprise off;
. Measurement of Blood pressure, pulse rate and rhythm.
( I do have good rhythm and keep it up till the end with happy ending.)
. assessment of medication, continence, immunisation status, physical function, activities of daily living, fall status.
Oh no, not continence again? Not another nervously strained stool sample with gloves, wooden stick and screw-top container? Look doc, I hover between deep seated constipation and voluminous bouts of diarrhoea, give me a break. I’ll invite you for a prawn barbeque, mow your lawn, but no more stool samples. Concentrate on my tinnitus and my wobbly feet. I do still remember the good times when I slept all night without leeks and straining the potatoes three times a night. My physical functions do include being able to still take two steps on the stairs at the time and to run to Aldi’s when the Shiraz is on special. My fall rate is perfect and I generally put my hands out to brake the fall. I remember my pin numbers and have a fairly good idea of passwords and know how to put photos on the internet.
. assessment of mood and memory.
It’s been no picnic. I do enjoy the good times and relish the friends I still have. I do get down but know that it passes almost unnoticed. I know you mean well, doc, but no anti-depressants. I love my depression. Look where it go me? I am on my 757th article of folly and nonsense and still able to put down words in certain order with the help of a keen despair, but also with some sun and hope for a still liveable world for all Grand-kids.
. social setting and whether you are caring for another person.
I care for my partner of many years and she does for me. We still do a little dance. I don’t have many ailments or suffer from gout, insomnia, or nervous ticks, nor sit in the park forgotten how to get home. Sure, moments of finding the impetus to keep going are joined with acute feelings of having done it already. Putting socks on is a drag on the day, but relish the first coffee. At times I feel even food resisting and I have to fight the urge to a regurgitation in having tasted it all too often before. But, what can one do? A fresh herring or smoked eel is still the answer.
A walk along the creek helps.
Tags: Anti depressants, creek, Depression, Doctor, health assessment, love, partner, Socks
September 26, 2015 at 12:00 am |
Welcome to the world of the 75 and overs! I get all sweaty when I have to spell a word backwards, or remember 3 words a little later in the examination.
I reckon it’s a good initiative and no doubt picks up problems before they become big problems.
Cheers and stay continent, mate.
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September 26, 2015 at 12:47 am |
Yes, I think it is a good initiative. People live longer and so many ailments are now being cured. Too many prescriptions though! A wave of accidental overdoses from prescriptions outstripping heroine overdoses now.
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September 26, 2015 at 2:19 am |
GErard I think it also means you can have a Care Plan meaning you have access to things like four visits to a Chiropodist each year and maybe some other benefits. So enjoy, Lol
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September 26, 2015 at 3:18 am |
I still cut all my twenty nails and open the corn-flakes un-aided. The jam jar is a different matter, use a jemmy-bar. As for opening things from the hardware shop, encased in plastic; it is the chain-saw or bull-dozer.
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September 26, 2015 at 11:33 am |
Love seeing your etchings, Gerard! Thanks for making me smile with the way you look at life.
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September 27, 2015 at 1:49 pm |
What I want to know, and what you’re not telling us here, is whether you still have your own teeth. I’m guessing you do!
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September 27, 2015 at 11:19 pm |
I still ‘mainly’ have own teeth but each morning I go through the somewhat melancholic task of putting on my ‘partials’. Still, only the lower jaw carries them and even then only three teeth. How about you, Rod?
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September 28, 2015 at 6:00 pm |
It’s nice to get such a warm welcome from the “over-50’s”. We all carry the same infirmities—teeth, limbs, hair loss, eyesight. Everything wears out eventually. The greatest lesson to learn? Make-do with what’s left. When the feet go, get a wheel chair, eyeglasses, wig, hearing aid, a nice box of Kleenex for that drippy nose. But for the brain? We’re all on our own.
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September 29, 2015 at 1:40 am |
The Government has done a good thing. (rare) The over 75ers are encouraged to go through a home-care plan which includes thorough assesment of possible needs. I went through this yesterday with nurse and doctor taking one and half hour.
I will write a post about it soon.
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September 28, 2015 at 9:57 pm |
Hmm, this is all from their point of view. I was just thinking this morning that I’d like an hour with a doctor every other year just to air my concerns and be told not to worry about them. At the moment I can see a doctor for 5-10 minutes if I want, but I feel guilty unless I have a single, potentially serious problem, to offer. I want to ask about a dozen annoying or vaguely concerning aches, pains or visible marks. I must find a friendly doctor with whom to discuss the doctor-centric viewpoint.
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September 29, 2015 at 1:42 am |
Well, I had a great time yesterday. They took the state of my heart seriously. Unfortunately, IT was on ‘outage’. Each time they clamped my bare chest up with suction caps the machine would not work. About that later. (very exciting afternoon)
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