As I got older, I learned that I needed to take my health care more seriously and I needed to take my health more seriously. I don’t share the idea that my doctors are wholly responsible for my health; I’m more important than they are when it comes to listening, changing some habits, learning what to eat, exercising in a way I can accept, and managing my diabetes and heart disease with care.

For much of my life, I didn’t really care if I was going to die young or not; I never felt I had a great deal to live for. That changed when I came upstate, found my farm, wrote about dogs, animals, and life, and met someone I loved.

(Picture, Emma-in-training, Amy, my primary health care nurse practitioner.

I knew I would have to find a primary health care person to talk to, to help me navigate my way through this astoundingly complex system of care, and I knew I had to find someone I trusted, who loves caring for people,  and who was not afraid of being honest with me.  I wanted to keep an open mind, but I guessed this would have to be a woman. The male doctors I know just didn’t know how to take to me, nor did I them.

Country people are screwed again and again when it comes to government programs or services like health care and farm price support.

I sadly knew I had to leave my small country’s health care system, which is slowly falling apart under the weight of people with no or little health insurance. Health insurance is a big business now; the era of the country doctor who road to the farms to treat people at home are long gone.

The fates were riding along with me; the first primary care provider I found was a nurse in the Saratoga Hospital System. Her name is Amy Eldridge, and she has no fear of me or the truth or of listening and talking openly and honestly to me.

I feel strong and vital and good, but I am also going to have to do some work this year to regain the health Covid knocked back. I was coasting along. I can’t do that for the next few months.

I went to see Amy today with Maria.

I’ve had a rough time since Covid-19 struck and messed up my body, from weight to exercise to diabetes and sugar levels. It’s only in the past week or so that I’ve begun to feel myself returning to normal. I am no longer exhausted, congested,  and unable to hold food down again and again. My joints still hurt almost all the time,  I was often nauseous and always coughing, and I  experienced a dozen new symptoms.

Last week, I saw blood in my urine, which led to a cancer scare.

And an appointment with Amy.

It looks like I passed a tiny kidney stone. That almost certainly caused the bleeding.

But I’m taking more tests to make sure.

Maria came with me, we saw Amy and a trainee named Jenna, who was every bit as wonderful as Amy. Amy is Maria’s doctor as well as mine. New patients will be lucky to find her.

Seeing a doctor shouldn’t really be fun it is great fun seeing Amy. I always look forward to it. She is everything I wanted and needed in a doctor at this point in life.

Amy always gets don’t to business, but we always find ways to laugh and connect with one another. For the past few years, all of my visits have been triumphant and shown great success and terrific numbers, this time, I got a B-.  I got straight A’s for several years. Amy has taken the trouble to get to know me and knows how to talk to me while keeping my spirits up.

Covid did some damage; I haven’t been too open about that. I don’t want to be talking about my health all the time. I wanted to wait until I began to feel better.

We agreed on a number of things we can do to get my numbers right, and I have already begun to start losing weight again. Covid is letting go. I’ve got my own ideas.

Amy is not happy with my test results, which is no surprise. Covid really chewed up my system, and I have serious work to do to get my body back on track and my diabetes back to where it was and should be. I believe I would be dead without the vaccinations and boosters.

I have ground to make up. But as always with Amy, I feel good and have some new ideas about getting healthier.

I’m going back to see her in three months. The funny thing about Amy is that as funny and empathetic as she is, I am also afraid of her. She expects me to bring her good news now that Covid is going away, and I don’t intend to disappoint her. I worked hard to get where I was with her help, and I’m not letting Covid take it away.

 

 

After we saw Amy, I went to see another professional who may make it possible for me to walk freely again, as I have always loved to do. The stuff with my left foot has become a big deal.

My foot problems are more serious now due to one collapsing food, some hard callouses, and some ulceration in a toe that is healing slowly but won’t go away.

David Misener is a clinical prosthetic and orthotic specialist who has offices in Saratoga Springs and several other upstate cities and towns.

He is a  renowned orthotic specialist who thinks he can help me and has taken on the case of my difficult foot.

He made a cast of the orthotic this afternoon and will send it off to a lab for construction.  It should be ready in a month.

Then I’ll come back for a fitting or two.

The new brace will run up both sides of my foot a foot or two and hopefully keep the callous from rubbing all day into my shoe or the ground. It will have soft construction and padding that should protect the toe in the shoe and help straighten my walk.

There is no guarantee that this $1,500 orthotic will work, but a lot depends on it – including my ability to take walks and move around freely and painlessly. I’m keeping my fingers crossed. I’m in a new period of my life, and I need to get ready, both in my head and my body.

When I see Amy in April, I plan to have my numbers back in shape and resume my walks and exercise. Two good and important goals. I feel good for writing about this, I promised to be open, but I’m very determined to deal with these issues without letting them dominate my head, work, or life.

Feeling closes to death is transformative. It opens me up, helps me to think, inspires me to be meaningful. Life is a gift. Life matters.

I will never tell anyone not to grow old; it is a rich and meaningful time of life.

That has always been my goal, and I have done much work to maintain it. I’ll write about it when there is something to share. Love proceeds in chapters and segments, and passages. I’m moving into another.