courtesy:www.forbes.com
I
started this off naming one of James Thurber's funniest stories,
because it rings so true for my own life, which has been an endless
series of confusion, pratfalls and just plain idiocies. I could jump
in just any old place, and come up with some stupidity or other;
either mine or someone who is close to me. Being homeless for eleven
months just helped to enrich that craziness.
So,
not very long ago, on the 15th anniversary of my mother's
death, I discovered through my own pulmonary doctor, that my own
copd, which had taken her life, will not take mine. The last symptom,
the scar tissue that inhibits exhalations seems to be gone, according
to my pulmonary specialist. When I discovered that I had copd, I made
it my mission to try and help others – as well as myself – and
began going through Clinical Trials; I have been in one trial or
another since 2012. To say that this is startling news, really throws
shade on how important this is. In the past, the most people could
hope for, was that their copd could be arrested, and if the patient
had quit smoking – which I did in 2010 – there should be no
worsening, although that is not always the case.
My
mother had a genetic predisposition to copd, just as she did to
essential tremor – although, alas, she was never diagnosed or
treated for essential tremor. I just know it from consultation with
my own neurologist and discussion with my aunt, who is a terrific
observer of such things. Both of these traits show up on the same
genetic strand of DNA. And I know this how? By reading my own medical
chart. These are primarily the only true medical weaknesses we
possess, lest you count the pure bat-shit insanity and pure
cussedness on both sides of my family.
Anyway,
as I mentioned earlier, most people who quit smoking don't get worse,
but by the time my mom quit smoking it was very late in the game; she
had 13% lung function. I had 43% lung function when I started my
Clinical Trials, but within 2 years, it had gone up to 90%, however,
I still had those damnable scars that made exhalations and true
exertions very hard on me.
courtesy:youtube.com
Well,
it had dawned on me somewhere after I did Japan – read “Mr. Bean
Does Japan”, after I lost my blind cane - that I didn't have that
“elephant sitting on my chest” feeling at all. Me essential
tremor was being a mess, but I'm generally a mess and don't pay that
any mind; it won't kill me. And then, last Monday, I had a thought
(and no, it didn't get lonely and leave), but I needed a hill to try
out my thought.
courtesy:pinterest.com
I
had to go to my bank, which is up a small hill facing Nebraska
Avenue. I went and got the rent, and then went back down the hill.
Then, I ran as fast as I could – I was a runner in high school –
back up the hill, and capered and danced around, chortling to myself
and just having a fine time. I did this for about 20 minutes, without
ever getting out of breath.
I
told my “pretend adopted son” Alex about this episode and he
said, “You just know someone saw you and said, there goes another
Nebraska Avenue loon!” So, we had a good laugh about that.
On
Wednesday night however, I pulled an even bigger stunt. I'm a
restless sleeper. I always have been and it was a latent sign of my
essential tremor. At least, I never sat up in bed and jacked my
better 2/3s in the eye, as is the case with my mom, when she gave my
dad a black eye. When he said “Ow! What did you do that for?” She
was all huffy with her response: “Just be glad you're a fish! You
can write on Sundays!” I'm sure untold generations will be
pondering the profundity of that meaning. My dad said sleeping with
me when I was tiny was like sleeping with a bulldozer. My poor dad.
Anyway,
somehow, I'd gotten turned around and was sleeping with me head,
where my feet should be. I woke up at some point, thirsty and was
looking for my water bottle. I saw it, and reached for it-wtf????
I
fell out of the bed, and landed on my head and shoulders with my feet
up in the air. I lay there and laughed like a loon for about 20
minutes, feet still in the air, before I recovered enough to pull
myself up and get back in the bed, with my water bottle. It is a good
thing that I'm still so limber and agile, because there are times I
don't have one brain cell in my head.
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