health

The Seventh Decade Shuffle: New Moves, Old Joints, and Unexpected Beats

Entering my seventh decade feels a bit like joining a new season of “Dancing with the Stars”—except the stars are my grandkids, my doctor, and the ever-present siren call of retirement planning. Here’s how the choreography is going so far:

1. The Weighty Waltz

Walking daily used to keep the “pound demons” at bay.
Now?

  • The demons apparently have better cardio than I do.
  • Is it my slower pace, shorter distance, or is my body still in mourning for the Texas trails I left behind?
  • Oklahoma, you’ve got big walking shoes to fill.

2. The Lab Report Rumba

Yearly physicals now come with a side of mystery:

  • “Good news: your liver and kidneys are happy campers! But why is your potassium doing the cha-cha?”
  • Turns out, swapping candy for nuts and raisins comes with its own plot twist—sky-high potassium.
  • Considering switching to cranberries, but they just don’t have the same snack-appeal.
  • Even my daily Sonic Iced Tea is under nutritional review. Next up: water, but only if garnished with denial.

3. The Proximity Polka

For the first time in years, I’m within 25 minutes of two of my kids—and a grandchild!

  • After the nomadic years of college, internships, and “that little COVID reunion,” this is a big change.
  • New grandparent dance moves required. Baby steps, literally.

4. The Retirement Riff

Testing out the “retirement dance”:

  • What will it look like when my wife and I both retire?
  • Will we be waltzing into the sunset, or quickstepping around health insurance premiums?
  • She might keep consulting to protect our nest egg from an early molt.

5. The Local Loop (or, The Costco Conga)

New city, new adventures! Or, at least, new routes to Sam’s, Costco, Aldi, and Chick-Fil-A.

  • If exploring means discovering a new traffic light between me and a chicken sandwich, consider me Magellan.

6. The Pickup Truck Two-Step

Still driving the Sienna van to Home Depot.

  • I throw down the seats and hope no one notices me hauling mulch with minivan swagger.
  • Someday, I’ll get a truck—and finally earn those approving nods from fellow DIYers.

7. The Flexibility Foxtrot

Kids nearby today, but maybe not tomorrow.

  • Any comfort I find in this house or city could be temporary—family migration is always a possibility.
  • Like any good dancer, I need to stay light on my feet (and limber in the mind).

Final Bow

No dread—just anticipation. This decade will reveal its steps with or without my rhythm. While my bones are still flexible (ish), my mind has some catching up to do. Admitting it is my first move toward embracing the dance.

May your seventh-decade shuffle be full of laughs, love, and only the occasional pulled muscle.

The Crown Saga: Royal Pains in Modern Dentistry

The Crowning Moment (Or, So I Thought)

Getting a dental crown was supposed to be my ticket to chewing with confidence. My dentist, in her infinite wisdom, said:

“It’s probably a good thing it’ll take two weeks for your permanent crown. If you have any sensitivity, we can do a root canal first!”
This is the dental equivalent of “Don’t worry… unless you have to.”

Expectation vs. Reality: Sensitivity Strikes Back

  • My expectation: Crown goes on, I live happily ever after.
  • Reality: Tooth starts sending Morse code signals of sensitivity.
  • Dental logic: If pain appears after the crown is installed, “We can still do the root canal. It’s just a little harder.”
    Translation: “We keep a secret stash of intimidating tools for just such an emergency.”

The Tools of the Trade

Let’s talk about crown removal. I didn’t get the full view, but judging by the sounds and the dentist’s focused look, the process seemed to involve:

  • Tools that only come out for crown extractions (possibly shared with Indiana Jones).
  • A “let’s see what works” approach, which is always comforting when applied to your mouth.
  • Glue so strong that, if it weren’t there, the world would be plagued with swallowed crowns.

The Sensitivity Waiting Game

So now, every so often, my crowned tooth tingles. Is this a precursor to a root canal? Or just my tooth’s way of saying “hello”?
Meanwhile, my wife recently dodged the crown bullet with a simple sealant—no royal drama for her.

Past Adventures in Dental Delays

Let’s not forget:

  • Previous root canal: Diagnosed pain, then I gallivanted around Europe for two weeks (painkillers in tow, untouched—because I’m apparently part Viking).

My Royal Plan

  • Current strategy: Wait it out. Maybe it’s just sensitivity.
  • Possible risk: Waking up at 2 AM clutching my jaw, composing a blues song.
  • Backup: My “higher than normal” pain threshold and a willingness to see how long I can stretch this out.

The Real “Crown” Takeaway

Sure, “The Crown Saga” might sound like a Netflix drama, but my version is all nerves and novocaine—less palace intrigue, more waiting room magazines.
But if I can avoid a return trip to the dental tool armory, I’ll consider my reign a success.

Adventures in Dentistry: Numbness, Cavities, and Bonus Surprises

(I had some help organizing my thoughts, but there is LOTS OF ME in this post. My friend just helped me out.)

The dentist visit wasn’t bad. I mean, it could have been worse. I could have been visiting a dentist in Russia. There could have been pain. But overall, it was a pretty good experience—well, as good as a day at the dentist can get. Let’s review the highlights of my tooth-taming escapade.

1. The Numbing Juice: A Marathon, Not a Sprint

I was given the choice: a shot or gas. I went with the shot, and wow, did it pack a punch. I write this at nearly 5:00 p.m., and my face is just now returning to normal.

The “numb-numb juice” was administered around 11:00 a.m., and it stayed with me like an overcommitted houseguest. My nose finally joined the land of the living sometime after lunch, during which I carefully sipped a milkshake so I wouldn’t accidentally chew my own cheek. Pro tip: nothing says “good decision” like avoiding self-inflicted mouth injuries.

2. From Rock Legends to Light Rock Ambiance

The radio started off strong with 80s and 90s rock. But at some point, the station switched to light rock. A sudden Beach Boys song made me question everything. Are the Beach Boys considered light rock? Or were they just preparing me for the emotional rollercoaster of dental work? The world may never know.

3. The “Wheel of Fortune” Numbing Timeline

By the time the numbness finally wore off, it was Wheel of Fortune time. That’s seven hours of “throw the pain in the other room” magic. Reflecting back, the dentist did mention, “The cavities are really close to the nerve.” I guess that explained the Olympic-level dose of numbing juice.

4. The Block: My New Favorite Dental Gadget

Let’s talk about the block—the little device they stick in your mouth to prop it open. At first, it felt weird and awkward, but when they removed it to let me rest, I realized how much I relied on it. Without it, I had no clue how far to keep my mouth open. The block became my security blanket. Everyone needs a crutch sometimes, and mine was a piece of plastic wedged between my teeth.

5. The Surprise Cavity Bonus

While she was working, the dentist casually said, “Hey, I noticed another cavity while I was in there. I went ahead and prepped it for a filling, too.”

Uh, come again?

Apparently, while my face was numb and I was blissfully unaware, they decided to tackle a bonus cavity. It was all perfectly legal, of course—thanks to the form I initialed beforehand. You know the one: “The estimate is just an estimate. If additional mutually beneficial work is identified, we’ll take care of it!” Well played, dentist. Well played.

6. Tear-Off Cavities: The Sequel No One Asked For

Two out of the three cavities today were what they called “tear-offs.” Essentially, the edges of old fillings decided to betray me and let the bad guys in. The third cavity was the surprise bonus cavity. Not a freebie, but hey, it came with built-in discounts because, as the dentist might say, “The drill’s already warmed up!”

7. Crown Removal: Next Week’s Fun Adventure

Next week, I get to have a “false crown” removed. Apparently, a cavity snuck in under it. (Yes, this happens. No, I didn’t know it could.)

Here’s the good news: explosives won’t be necessary to remove the crown. Instead, they’ll use a “tool” that “turns the glue into water,” allowing the crown to practically leap out of my mouth. At least, that’s how it was explained to me. I’m choosing to believe this process will be as magical and painless as described.

Final Thoughts: A Dentist Visit to Remember

In the grand scheme of things, it wasn’t the worst dentist visit. Sure, I left with a numb face, a bonus cavity, and a few less dollars in my bank account. But I also left with functioning teeth, a renewed appreciation for the block, and the knowledge that my crown removal won’t require dynamite.

Here’s hoping next week’s crown adventure is just as “pleasant.” And by pleasant, I mean over quickly, with minimal drama and no surprise soundtrack changes.

The Rec Center Walk

This past weekend, it was really cold in Oklahoma. With flurries blowing, I had three choices: take my walk outside and be miserable, skip my walk entirely, or go with my wife to the rec center and walk as she swam. I opted to go to the rec center.

We have an “old folks” rec center near our home. If you are over 50, you can join and take advantage of the programs specifically designed for more seasoned citizens. While I don’t physically put myself in this age group, I can’t hide from the chronological facts. So, as she swam, I took my first walk on the 11-laps-per-mile track.

When I first started, the track was not crowded. As I added laps to my total, more people came to join me, and I was glad to see people doing healthy things. But, I had some criticism. If people want to walk 3 -across and take up the whole track, I consider this rude. When I walk outside, I stay aware of who is coming toward me and who is behind me. On the rec center track, I had to get in the habit of yelling, “On your left” while a few yards behind. (Also, good etiquette outside.) They moved with slight annoyance. I thanked them for allowing me by…or was I thanking them for sharing the track like a civilized person would do? While this was annoying, I had a far greater frustration.

Typically, I walk 15-16 minute miles. I have gotten in the habit of using a phone app that announces the miles and the minutes per mile. When the app told me I had completed my first mile at a time of 19+ minutes. I was appalled. Prior to this disturbing announcement, I was convinced I was walking an average pace. Yes, passing people and diving through gaps does cause me to break from my normal stride. Yet, walking 3 minutes slower than normal did not sit well. The only way to solve this problem was walking faster. When the 3 miles were completed, I did not greatly improve my minutes/mile speed.

After doubting my masculinity and almost accepting the fact I am old, I developed a theory. I am certain my phone app and the GPS function were actively working against me. The GPS was not able to detect whether I was on the outer ring or the inner walking ring.

My extremely well-read friend gave this response to my question:

Walking small, repetitive laps (e.g., around a track or small park) can sometimes confuse GPS systems. The curves and overlapping paths may result in under- or over-estimating distances due to signal "drift" or smoothing.

Whether this is accurate or not, I am claiming it. As long as I am in control of my faculties, I will not trust a sporadic electronic hiccup over my gut. And, by extension, I am unlikely to walk rec center laps again…

The Over-Arching Problem

I am a walker. I get an itch if I haven’t gotten my walk in by mid-afternoon. The length may vary, but the inclusion cannot.

During a recent walk, my right arch didn’t feel quite right. Being a fixer, I “knew” I had the means to fix the problem. (A little background here…when this happened in the past, I became a Good Feet customer. I spent an outlandish amount of money on their arches. Yet, it fixed the problem.)

Knowing I had good arch inserts, I decided I would attempt to use them correctly. With Good Feet arches, you are encouraged to use velcro dots to hold the arches in place. One dot goes on the bottom of the arch support, and the other dot goes on the inside bottom of the shoe. If installed correctly, the arch is “perfectly” aligned. Your arch will smile no matter how many miles you force it to endure.

I don’t think I installed my Velcro dots correctly. After installing them on my right shoe, I took my 4+ mile walk. The walk may or may not have been the problem. I believe the combination of the new arch position and slanted sidewalks was the issue. Forcing my ankle to work on an angle with the arch in a new position was an easy scapegoat. Halfway into my walk, I was walking on the outside of my foot. And, by the time I got back home, I was hobbled.

My injury was further complicated by my competitive nature. My iPhone Fitness app has given me a walking goal for the month. To achieve this goal, I must walk. This injury was going to complicate this. While I could justify one day off, I couldn’t explain too many more off. A visit to the Good Feet store was added to my errand list.

At the Good Feet store, they took my problem seriously. They checked out the bottom of my feet. This is pretty low-tech. I step on a piece of carbon paper. It makes an impression on the paper below. It allows them to see if my foot impression is correct. (Why else would they look at the bottom of my feet?) They determined my “lifetime guaranteed” arches were a little flat. They replaced these for free and accurately attached the Velcro dots to position the arch appropriately. So I wouldn’t get out of their store for free; they charged me an excessive amount for the new anti-smelly-feet shoe liners

While I was considering postponing a walk for one more day, my daughter wanted to take a walk. I decided to take a short walk with her. When I got home, my right foot didn’t feel too bad. I still had to think about walking on my full foot and not avoiding the inside of my foot. The next day, I decided to take a longer walk. I forbade slanted sidewalks while settling for redundant scenery. (I walked around a track a few times.) Again, I had to concentrate and be a foot-whisperer, “You are a healthy foot. Act like a foot that could walk 100 miles.” My foot didn’t embrace the entire message, but it heard some of it.

With 7 days removed from the injury and 4 days post-Good Feet visit, I think my foot will recover. As important as the foot recovery is, the fulfillment of the iPhone Fitness challenge is not going to go unmet. I took on the over-arching problem and temporarily removed it as a factor in the length of my walk. The only concern now is if I can tolerate a brisk Oklahoma winter wind.

Oklahoma Vampires

While this may sound like a late Halloween post, it is not. It does, however, involve blood. It was a pint of double-red O+.

After 14+ years of donating almost entirely double-red blood in Texas (Carter Bloodcare is crediting me with 7 gallons of blood during that time.), I did my first donation in Oklahoma yesterday. As with many things, it was exactly the same but a little bit different. Prior to Texas, I also made several donations in Ohio. Those were pre-blogging and before I observed such things for my own entertainment.

The first difference was only a difference in intensity. Giving blood makes me nervous. It causes my blood pressure to spike. The first attempt to get a reading had them standing with a defibrillator over my anxious body. The second attempt was a manual reading. I still had a high reading, but it was acceptable. Driving home, I realized I usually avoided caffeine on “donation” days. Scheduling the donation the day of the letting made this a little different.

When I was in the middle of the donation, I usually look at the screen. Double red donations involve removing red blood cells and returning the remaining blood back to the body. When the blood is leaving your body, you are supposed to squeeze on the squishy object. During returns, you aren’t supposed to squeeze on anything. The screen mounted to the device is a convenient way to track what is happening. Squeezing when you are not supposed to could have detrimental results. When I asked the nurse what I should use to determine “to squeeze or not to squeeze”, she said, “When the big dial is spinning, it is a return.” If they only had created a screen for this purpose, it would have been easier. I always relied on this in the past.

When blood is returned, the point where the needle is inserted often feels ” chilled.” This could also be accompanied by a coppery taste in the mouth. In the past, I begged to get a Tums. The calcium counteracts this. At Our Blood Institute, they hand out tootsie roll-flavored candies. They were less gritty and tastier. I didn’t taste copper, so they must have worked.

Finally, as I was finishing up, the guy across from me had a seizure or some other negative reaction. I heard ice packs being thrown around and 4 people gathered around his station. He recovered and was talked before I left.

Like all previous donations, I left a pint lower. There is nothing wrong with the Oklahoma vampires’ approach—it is just different.

Burning My Face Off

The picture just looks like rosy cheeks. The cracking skin and uncharacteristic hat scream of something else. The evidence smells of advice from a dermatologist. And, yes, you would be on the right track.

After visiting the dermatologist for several years annually, the visits bore fruit last fall. (Not happily born, but it was present nonetheless.) There was a small spot on my shoulder that was easily and almost painlessly removed. Yes, it did hurt. It hurt my dream of living forever more. The cancer was one of many strong arguments that confirmed I won’t be on this planet forever.

So, when I had another dermatology appointment 6 months later (2 weeks ago), I was hopeful it would be a quick body scan followed by a thumbs up. It wasn’t a thumbs down, but it did have a “…maybe you should consider.” Apparently, I had some pre-cancerous “stuff” on my face. I could ride it out and see if any of it graduated to real cancer, or I could apply this cream for 5 days. Being a cautious guy, I took the “short-term pain for long-term gain” approach. I only have a few regrets:

  • My face feels like it is cracking when I scrunch it up. Nothing a little shiny Vaseline won’t help.
  • Fortunately, people will never say anything in public about your shiny face. But, I am convinced they notice the Vaseline glistening off your face.
  • I was told to apply the cream to my forehead, temples, and the top of my ears. These 3 were not the source of emotional trauma. The lateral cheeks are where the redness/sunburn leaped off my face and into the eyes of everyone I encountered. An incredibly humbling location was the corner of my nose to the corresponding corner of my lip. It was a bright red, and to fulfill the sunburn warning I was given, these locations thrived on peeling.
  • The hockey games we attended were low lighting, but I was still convinced every conversation had the other party’s eyes riveted to my scorched face. The Brahmas baseball hat could not cover my whole face. The experience was very reminiscent of going through puberty and the challenges of unexpected acne.
  • The hat I am wearing in the image is my Outback Hat. It may not be what they wear in Australia, but in my mind, this hat style is tied to that continent. This hat has become my new companion as I continue to take my walks and limit sun exposure.
  • The humorous explanation was, “My wife’s superpower is her X-ray vision. As she has gotten older, her superpowers sometimes ‘sneak out’ without her being able to control them. She accidentally irradiated my face. Fortunately, my eyes were closed when she did it.” (Yes, I have come up with better stories, but the skinburn lingers. I will be able to laugh more about it next week.)