Heroes

Quid De Cogitatione? Glenn Rose

Last winter a news story reported that the average life span of a white American male is 77 1/2 years.

I don’t like the official taxonomic practice of calling humans who lack skin pigmentation as “white”! At my age exposed skin becomes a mottled array of pink and liver colored blotches on an evenly tanned background. Mercifully unexposed skin maintains its multi-hued blotches with pinks, reds, and a network of blue veins added to a background that one finds on a raw chicken leg.

“White” people, in the words of the Jack Soo character, Nick Yemana on television’s “Barney Miller,” are merely “blank”!

In a world increasingly defined by the character and intellectual achievements of an individual, I find the concept of classifying people by the color of their skin woefully inaccurate and an anachronistic attempt to reward one culture for its technological advantages over another and its willingness to use it to achieve its own selfish goals.)

But I digress. When I first heard that “statistical average,” I realized that if I could survive until July 9th of this year I would reach that demographic mark. Anytime beyond that date would be a bonus, an extra ball in the pinball game of life! Any days gained after that upcoming date would put me “above average”!

How my dear mother would beam in the knowledge that her little “Yawcob Strauss” was now finally making a C+!

Of course, hitting that mark means one day dealing with the rigors of aging.

I’ve spent the last 77 years watching friends and relatives grow old and less physically fit, as their hair grows gray and slowly whitens, their backs begin to slouch, and they “slip into the lean and slipper’d pantaloon” followed by “second childishness and mere oblivion.”

For some strange reason I have been thinking that I was standing still, frozen in time, when, naturally, I have been moving in that same direction.

Five years ago I had back surgery for nerves that were being pinched in my lumbar region, the lowest set of vertebrae in the spine. Those vertebrae were fused and the pain was alleviated, although full use of my feet had not returned.

Six months ago I began experiencing numbness in my feet. Walking and standing began to become more challenging.

Splitting firewood became more difficult, and l found running a chainsaw while standing almost impossible. Cutting while kneeling was the only thing my back could tolerate.

During the last three months my walking became more clumsy. My mode of movement, much like a sloth, was to make careful, measured movements testing my footing cautiously as I advanced. My steps were directed to the next chair or table to stabilize my progress. Caregivers call it “furniture surfing.”

I was sure I was slowly reaching the point where I would be unable to walk.

I’m writing this column while waiting on surgery tomorrow morning, Thursday, at the University of Virginia Hospital.

There are several things to consider in picking a health provider. First for most of us is the competency of the provider and the quality and access to the most advanced diagnostic tools.

Next should be assuring the provider is in the network of one’s insurance company.

How convenient the provider’s location is for the patient and family is probably a consideration.

Believing that all of my area choices offering the surgery I needed were equal in competency and also in my insurance company’s network, I chose U.Va. because it could do what I needed the quickest.

One thing I didn’t need to compare was the professionalism and dedication to service of the staffs at our area hospitals. Over the years I’ve been a patient at all the region’s hospitals or known people familiar with the ones I didn’t know firsthand.

Healthcare providers are among our unsung heroes. My experiences with all those who serve us do so with the same zeal and devotion as our dearest family member.

Maybe more so. Unlike a family member, they have yet to be exposed to our worst behavior. They have no reason to not serve us with the best they have to offer. They are pledged to give our needs their best effort both by law and more importantly, their personal commitment to give compassionate care.

Unselfishly serving others is in their D.N.A.

I consider myself very fortunate to have these people dedicated to my health and wellbeing. They come into the lives of those they aid with a love akin to a family member for maybe only a moment or a few weeks, delivering a product no amount of money can buy.