THE GREYBEARD'S FOLLY

AND HOW IT NEARLY COST ME EVERYTHING.

The internet is an amazing invention.

And like everything else, can be a positive or negative INFLUENCE in your life depending on HOW you use it.

It has allowed me a digital footprint from which, through various social media accounts and platforms, allowed me to gather an audience to chat and visit with as our lives unfold.

I’ve done my best to be informative, supportive and friendly as possible as we struggle with all of Life’s curve balls.

But my ego always finds a way to teach me a lesson as it creeps in to everything I believe I’ve become adept at.

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THE KNOW IT ALL CANNOT BE REASONED WITH

Here’s what I mean…

I’m 60.

A month ago I started having breathing problems.

I live in a two story apartment and my bedroom is upstairs.

One night I began involuntarily gasping as I reached the top of the stairs and almost fell.

I couldn’t seem to catch my breath as I sat heavily on the bed and wheezed for about a minute.

No DEEP breaths seemed possible.

Even minutes later.

And the condition/symptom remained.

I couldn’t walk 20 feet to the bathroom from my computer without wheezing.

An actual SMART person would have gone to an Emergency Room right then, that night.

But this was me, the KNOW IT ALL.

I DECIDED I had some kind of upper respiratory illness and that I would just soldier on an treat it myself.

My physical movement practically ceased as I began treating my ailment with various supplements, medicines and pills.

To no avail.

I even began moving around the apartment on this roller stool to avoid standing up.

Finally, after almost three weeks with no improvement I began to panic and reached out for help to my brother, Brian Cates, who’s own health struggles are well documented on his X App account as he’s lost weight and become far healthier in the last year.

He immediately told me to go to a doctor or the ER.

I can’t remember exactly how he put it, but he found my so called super power to self diagnose RIDICULOUS.

“You need to be seen by medical professionals to get properly diagnosed and treated,” he said.

“Tosh!” I thought. “I know what this is, I’ll just keep trying various supplements or medicines til it abates.”

As a week passed, nothing improved.

My depression and melancholy increased. Why wasn’t anything I was taking or doing effective?

I somehow began to realize this debilitating illness would be my end unless I could somehow break through it to a real solution.

THE OBVIOUS SOLUTION KNOWN BY NINE YEAR OLDS.

So on Tuesday, October 1st, I called for an ambulance.

The EMT’s who arrived were cool, professional and even pleasant as they placed me in the ambulance, started an IV, and took me to Christus Spohn Shoreline Hospital for emergency evaluation.

Ok, there’s a special relationship I have with Spohn Shoreline.

Brian & I were birthed there. (I was so tiny & sickly I had to spend weeks in an incubator)

My Mom’s Mom, Laila, died there from cancer in the mid 70’s.

In 2021 when I got COVID-19 I spent 5 days on their infectious disease floor where they saved my life for the first time.

Last week they saved me again.

From Tuesday to Saturday during my stay I had zero complaints about the doctors, nurses or staff.

Even though I had no health insurance, they treated me like a millionaire.

In the ER they determined/diagnosed my issue.

I had a hemoglobin count of THREE. The minimum count to be considered healthy is SEVEN.

They were amazed I’d been living with this low count without passing out or dying from an inability to oxygenate my internal organs.

This was almost certainly being caused by some form of gastrointestinal (GI) bleed.

They would have to schedule a colonoscopy for me but in the meantime, I was in a bad way.

They placed me in their ICU on the 4rth floor and proceeded to give me three units of blood over Tuesday night into Wednesday morning.

That night I had plenty of time to reflect on just how mind numbingly STUPID I’d been trying to self diagnose.

Also all Tuesday night I was encouraged to swallow cupful’s of a hideous lemon flavored glycol mixture designed to clean out my bowels for the colonoscopy camera.

I expected the procedure to happen by noon Wednesday but noon came and went.

They kept insisting I continue swilling down that vile mixture as they gave me another unit of blood.

And then another.

Apparently everything was on hold until I actually stabilized. (The initial transfusion of three units had put me up to a 7.1 Hemoglobin count, but when they drew blood to check on me Wednesday morning I’d dropped down to 6.8.

I spent all that day being encouraged to chug lemon flavored crud with nurses coming in to check my blood pressure and to jab me for a blood-sugar count every two hours.

I was starving.

My last meal had been Monday night, yet I couldn’t be allowed to eat until AFTER the procedure.

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Thursday arrived and I learned my procedure was a go for 11 AM.

Right after I had this tap water enema!

GROAN!

Needless to say I suffered all of these indignities with humor and the nurses were very understanding and helpful.

The operation went off smoothly, I just laid back, got mellow and followed instructions.

Dr. Raghu Singh was the doctor doing the colonoscopy and he & his staff were amazing.

When I woke up I had a bit of a surprise.

You see, over the last 2-3 months an unknown GI bleed had clearly robbed me of most of my hemoglobin.

Putting me into such poor health I couldn’t walk from here to there without nigh collapsing.

So, the entire point of the colonoscopy was to identify where the bleed was occurring, and then to repair it.

Well, Dr. Singh found NO GI BLEED.

He did remove a polyp that wasn’t cancerous, but the GI bleed had repaired itself.

I’m told this can happen.

Of course with all of my blood already flushed away that’s like closing the barn door after the horses ran out.

The rest of the day they monitored me keeping a careful eye on my blood count as I was finally allowed access to their not too bad hospital meals.

Friday arrived and the routine became me watching TV as the staff jabbed and checked me every four hours.

I had recovered my strength to such a degree I began to feel stir crazy in my room.

The wheezing had evaporated now that my internal organs were normally oxygenated.

My pride, however, may never recover.

I now realized living alone along with my own innate stubbornness had nearly spelled disaster.

I was loathe to make the call because I was convinced I knew what was wrong. I was literally dying that Monday and too prideful to really ask for help.

Brian gave me that brotherly push I needed to get well.

A hard lesson I’m taking to heart.

After being shown pure professionalism and compassion by over a dozen caregivers who helped save me FROM MYSELF.

I want to say thank you so much to everyone reading this who offered me their prayers and best wishes for recovery.

I’m overwhelmed with gratitude.

Upon being discharged Saturday afternoon and returning home, I reflected in amazement how differently I now moved and felt.

A week ago moving from the computer to the kitchen would require a “sit stop” for me to wheeze until I recovered my breath.

Now I just get up and walk the 30 feet.

D’OH!

Why had I waited so long to ask for help? (I did the same exact thing with my COVID hospitalization, waiting until I was nearly dead)

My thinking was clearly affected by a lack of oxygen.

That last three weeks I was caught up in a routine, moving slowly, wheezing with my mind in a foggy haze.

It’s clearly a flaw and one I’m determined to change.

So I’m moving to Lakeland, Florida to be closer to my brother Brian and his sensible INFLUENCE.

He’s been wanting me to do this for years.

And I guess this medical malady was the PUSH I needed to realize this.

I really do need to take better, SMARTER care of myself.

Anyway, thanks for reading and now brace for impact as Trump’s STORM is arriving!

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