Nowadays, many place a premium on knowing information immediately. Waiting for the morning print newspaper to slap the concrete of the front porch for so very many would surely be an anachronism if they still digested information thusly. Instead, so many these days rely on social-media platforms to deliver the news they need to know in as little as an hour after there’s a story to tell.
However, what about when the news is personal, something for older folks that involves medical testing? With the increased speed in which blood and tissue samples can be lab-analyzed, it’s not all that unusual for whatever results from that blood testing or that MRI or that biopsy to be on your computer’s email by the next day.
Now, for me, the question becomes how badly I want to be in the know. In my own case, struggling for the past half dozen years with what has been described as the curse of the aging male — an enlarged prostate and elevated PSA blood test numbers — the question always has been whether I really want to look at the news or just wait until my next appointment with my urologist, Doctor Alonzi. The appointment always comes shortly after the testing, a time when the topic surely will be front and center. And, I’ve always answered that question by not opening that line in my email that reads, “Test results ready to view on e-Health.”
Over the past half dozen years, the drama has included rising PSA numbers, a couple of prostate MRIs and two biopsies, the second of which took place a few days before my annual early-March long weekend in Fort Myers to spend time with my only sib, Joanie, and my brother-in-law, John, who’s been far more a real brother to me than an in-law.
While I saw the results were ready to view the day before my departure for my flight out of Columbus, I knew the Tuesday morning after my return I’d be in Doctor Alonzi’s office listening to his opinions on those same biopsy findings. So, again, I thought, given all that medical jargon, Greek to most of us not in that business, and always pretty scary to me, why would I look and spoil a perfectly great Floridian weekend with loved ones?
I think with age, there comes a certain realization that, perhaps, when it comes to potential bad news, hearing the details could surely be nudged down the road a bit. The Tuesday following the return from the long weekend would tell me whether some storm clouds had gathered for me, and that, as far as I was concerned, was soon enough.
So, off I went to Columbus to board my Southwest Airlines flight, the same airline which had performed so poorly with all those cancelled flights and ensuing chaos last Christmastime. I assumed the folks at Southwest had learned some lessons. After I scanned the QR code at The Parking Spot, parked the car and took the distinctive yellow-and-black-spotted shuttle to the airport, I realized all was indeed better in the Southwest world.
If you’re a regular reader of my musings, you may recall a column I wrote a while ago about the fairly recent trend of flight attendants injecting humor into their pre-flight safety instructions. Well, I got a doozy on my flight. Her delivery was well paced and the lines were clever, eliciting quite a few laughs.
As for her best, she said, “Please, if it becomes necessary to use the oxygen masks that will drop down, if you have children, after securing your mask, place them on each child, starting with the one that has the most academic potential.”
The flight was fine with only a couple somewhat jarring turbulent pockets. Following the dramatic dips, I had a gallows-humor thought that ran through my head — as in, well, if I go down with this Southwest airliner, I guess I won’t have to hear any bad news on Tuesday morning!
As for the visit itself, as it is each year I go, it was terrific. The Florida sunshine was accompanied by mid-80s temps, and the hospitality of my sis and brother-in-law was top shelf. The extended weekend consisted of dining out, my once-a-year assault on Joan and John’s home course, games of Bocce ball and a great afternoon of spring-training baseball with John, featuring those Sox of Boston and Twins of Minnesota and plenty of conversation about what we’ve shared together over many decades; and all of the aforementioned activities were accompanied by some frosty adult beverages that always taste better in the sun.
As I said my good-byes and exchanged my hugs with sis and John on Monday morning once dropped off at the airport, the thoughts I’d managed to shoo away pretty much the entire long weekend began to seep back into my brain, thoughts regarding what I’d be told the following morning.
Settling back in the seat after boarding, I prepared myself for the possible medical challenges to come, and a little over 24 hours later following my doc appointment and an immediate course-of-action decision, as I walked out of Doctor Alonzi’s office, I knew that modifying word “possible” was superfluous.
There would indeed be fears to conquer and challenges to be met.
John Grindrod is a regular columnist for The Lima News, a freelance writer and editor and the author of two books. Reach him at [email protected].
