It’s been nearly a year since I initiated my wacky but incredibly beneficial health overhaul.  Going from overweight sloth to reasonably fit grandpa has been an enlightening experience.  In fact, I’m on target to reach the goal of being in the best shape of my life by September 2021 when I turn 60.   It is shocking how much has changed in a year.  I have a new look, a new diet, habits, daily routine and wardrobe (nothing fits anymore).  As enlightened as I may have become there is still lots that hasn’t changed.   The biggest of which is the fact that I’m still a guy.   I still like to do guy things, like watch sports, run power tools and scratch myself in inappropriate places.   I still won’t read directions (except as a last resort), I often use bad language in mixed company, and I can even fake my way through car talk with my neighbor – I’m a guy, but not much of a “car guy”.  

The guy thing I’m particularly good at is putting off anything I can possibly put off for as long as possible – the old “deflect and delay” tactic.   So, I was caught short recently when I was asked about my medical history.  Specifically, when was the last time I’d had a physical.  It seems “Mr. Fitness” has been a little too “guy like” and hasn’t been practicing what he preaches which is taking responsibility for one’s health.  Oh, I’ve done lots of other things like exercising, eating a whole food diet, and getting plenty of sleep but the truth was I hadn’t had a physical in years – typical guy.  But getting into the best shape of your life means letting outside professionals check you over and I couldn’t put this off any longer.   

In my defence we had moved to a new town and, as such, all new health care providers had to be lined up.   But that was over two years ago.   Then there was the whole pandemic thing, but that excuse can only last so long.  Plus, I felt good – really good.  So, what could be wrong?  Plenty could be wrong.   It was time to face the facts.  I had let this part of my own healthy living practice slide.  It wasn’t that I was trying to avoid having my various body parts checked I just didn’t make it a priority.   And it wasn’t just a physical.  I hadn’t been to a dentist or had my eyes examined in over two years either.  Making these appointments is easy but it’s even easier not to do it.

So, one day I sat down and booked appointment after appointment.  My resourceful wife had found us a GP when we first moved and while I had met him, I hadn’t had a proper physical.   She’d also found a nearby dentist, and I booked an appointment to have my teeth given the ol’ once over.  On a recommendation, I booked an eye exam with an optometrist.   Then I booked the appointment I probably needed most but loathed to do so – I booked a hearing test with an audiologist.

There they were – four appointments all lined up.   God knows what ailment, defect or condition would be uncovered after years of neglect.   That’s always the thing isn’t it.  We try to do what’s best for our bodies but because we can only see the exterior, we never really know what’s happening on the interior.   If we aren’t proactive, we generally don’t know something is wrong until it goes wrong at which point, we’re in reaction mode.   The one thing I’ve learned, and I did it the hard way – typical guy, is that it’s almost always better to be proactive than reactive.   I’ve had a couple of friends who let things slide like I had and after 60 all their ailments came home to roost.  It was one health problem after another.   One of those friends caught his problems in time and is okay while the other didn’t – enough said.  

First up was the dentist.  I wasn’t quite prepared for this experience.   What was once a lovely suburban dental office had been transformed into a MASH unit from a war-torn country.   Full on Covid protocols had consumed the place and everyone was done up in near HAZMAT containment suits.  Plastic sheeting draped every square inch of the place.   I wasn’t sure if I was having my teeth checked or being subjected to a biological weapons test.  Once over the initial shock, my teeth were found to be in good shape, and I walked away with a clean bill of dental health.  Phew.  

Next was an eye exam.   Here, too, Covid protocols were in force but not to the same degree as the dentist had been. Eye doctors are clearly less worried about flying body fluids then dentists are – you’re less likely to cry on your eye doctor than spit on your dentist.  Luckily my eyes were generally in good health.  There were a couple of things she wanted to keep an eye on – the early signs of glaucoma for one – but otherwise all was well.   

The physical was next.  Now, I know I’m going to have to get used to this, but it’s unsettling to have a doctor that is young enough to be your child.   After a lifetime of doctors being “old” guys, having a “young” doctor just feels weird.  But at 60 the chances of having an old doctor are getting slim – it’s a game of attrition.   So, my new “young” doctor did my physical which turned out to not be very physical at all.   It was more like having a chat over lattes at Starbucks.   Sure, he listened to my heart, lungs and arteries but there were no reflex taps or “turn your head and cough” exam.  Most of the big checks are done through various blood tests.   Once again, I came away with a clean bill of health.   

The appointment I dreaded the most was next – the audiologist.   I think I knew what he was going to find but I was firmly entrenched in my state of denial – that state is warm, comfortable and oh so quiet.   After years of working at and going to loud concerts, a wood working hobby filled with noisy machinery, and God knows what else, my hearing was clearly diminished.   I suffer from tinnitus which is constant ringing or in my case buzzing in the ears.  In short, I don’t hear very well.  I can hear my wife complain how deaf I am, but I suspect she’s also raised her volume to compensate for my shortcoming.   

I underwent an examination of both my ears, a pressure test for the ear drums and a battery of sound recognition tests.   When the verdict was read, I didn’t want to hear it – I had severe hearing impairment and needed ….hearing aids.   BOOM.  In my mind I officially became a geezer.   It was a direct blow to my ego.   I was no longer living up to the “youthful” image I held of myself – not that it reflected reality anyway.  I was going to be one of those old guys with the hearing aids that whistled until they turned them down.  So, this adventure is still playing out.   I have to decide whether I can do hearing aids or not.  I can’t do that until my damaged ego heals and I’m able to process it all.   There’ll be more to come on this subject.

Overall, having my body parts checked out has been a good experience.   Thankfully there was nothing seriously wrong with me (other than a bruised ego).   I’m in good shape and that has now been confirmed by medical professionals.   It has also brought peace of mind.   I don’t have to worry about being checked for another year.   Then again, I’m still a guy, so make it two years.