My Health

Some of you know that I have been struggling with low energy levels, intermittent low grade fevers and the like. My primary care doc has a theory and a lead he's following up on. The theory is that this is all related to a possible sleep apnea problem. I snore like someone trying to outroar a lion... I don't really ever get a decent night sleep and cannot honestly remember the last time I slept through the night without waking up at least once or twice. So, I have an appointment next month to see a pulmonologist to start working through and testing for my possible sleep apnea.

The possible lead, however scares me a little bit. I've had a slightly elevated white blood cell count for at least a year now with my monocyte count being high as well. Monocytes are macrophages. They way they work, unlike other white cells, is by consuming and enveloping cells that invade the body and sort of doing a suicide bomber kind of move, destroying the antigen and itself all at once. It's usually elevated in viral infections and, hence the name, Mononucleosis. But an elevated monocyte count could also be an indicator of monocytic leukemia...

He's referred me to the local Hematology/Oncology group for a consultation. I'm waiting to hear from one of the two offices as to when my appointment is going to be. In the mean time, I sit and imagine the worst.

Do you have any scars on your body? If so, how'd you get them?

Lots of scars. The biggest ones from heart surgery.

Ask me anything

Fat...

I am way too fat. Too fat for my own good and my own health. When I step on my digital scale at home the slightly annoying voice intones the damage: Two-hundred and sixty-eight pounds. As my drill seargent in my Army basic training used to say, "That's too much Coburn..." This isn't the heaviest I've ever weighed, but it's damn close. In the mid to late 80's I was hovering around the 300 pound mark. Now, I can carry quite a bit of weight easily; I have broad shoulders and wide hips - a frame built for abuse and heavy loads. If I were an automobile, I'd be a small, practical pick-up truck.

My cardiologist wants me to lose 100 pounds, which is bit much in my opinion. I think I weighed more than that after basic training. Personally, if I could lose the sixty-eight and make it an even 200 I'd be a happy camper. I know I would feel a lot happier and be a lot healthier.

But here's the rub...

I seriously lack the motivation. Yes, I want to be around for my children and granchildren; I want to feel better physically; I want to reduce the strain on my back; I want to fit into the majority of my wardrobe again; yadda yadda yadda, blah blah blah... I am more than fully aware of the benefits to be reaped by dropping the weight not only through the generally-accepted common sense thinking on the subject but through practical experience as well. Here is the problem: My work life sucks. My career has morphed into a job. The wonderful institution for which I used to work has been reduced to simply the place I go to punch a clock everyday. My preoccupation with the misery of my workplace that it overwhelms and pushes aside the care I need to give myself.

Give me some encouragement, please...