The Old Coot isn’t sure
who’s right.
By Merlin Lessler
My grandparents never (or
almost never) went to a doctor or entered a hospital. They were born in the late
1800’s and passed away in the 1950’s. My grandmother, of “hardening of the
arteries, as they called Alzheimer’s back then, my grandfather of a
strangulated hernia, which he treated with a truss for 20 years, (but should have
gone to a doctor and a hospital to get it fixed). But, people from their
generation didn’t run to a doctor, as a rule. Or, a dentist, except for an abscessed
tooth extraction or to get a new set of choppers. They treated most of their
ailments with home remedies, and made out pretty well for the most part.
They were in their 60’s by
the time I came into their lives. I had more doctors than golf league partners
when I was their age. I’m in pretty good shape, yet my annual calendar is sprinkled
with checkups and investigative procedures. It makes me wonder who had the best
strategy – home cures or modern medicine in a relentless struggle to keep me
going with a stash of prescriptions and medical appointments in an endless,
repeating stream.
Maybe, a little of each is
the way to go. Besides, I’m now used to a doctor saying, “You have to expect
that at your age.” It’s been going on for more than 20 years. It taught me not
to pick up the phone at every new physical adventure that comes my way. Where am I going with this? I’m not sure. I
grapple with it every so often. I thought if I wrote it out I’d come to some
conclusion. Not this time. I guess I’ll try to accept the inconvenience of
sitting in waiting rooms, thumbing through old magazines and watching TV with
the sound turned off, and closed captions NOT turned on. It’s especially hard
on me, because I can’t lip-read!
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