Breasts and Beards

     Funny things, hormones.

     When you’re adolescent, they kick in big time – and we can’t wait for them to do their stuff. Boys check the mirror each morning in search of whiskers to shave. Girls anticipate the hormones’ arrival with the lyric best expressed in “A Chorus Line” – “tits, when am I gonna grow tits?”

     The bodily changes happen and things pretty much stay the same through middle age. But as we get older, something strange occurs. The hormones are back. But the second time around, their effects are reversed.

     Women start getting a little more testosterone, perhaps to give them a hand with increased assertive behavior when they outlive their mates (as most women do) and have to run the show on their own. But with testosterone comes those whiskers the teenage boys were longing for. Older women become more hirsute. You may have noticed this when you kissed your grandmother and got whisker burn. The electric shaver becomes one of an older woman’s best friends.

     Men start getting more progesterone, perhaps to finally get us more in touch with our feminine side. We tear up in movies more easily, and don’t care who knows it. We seem to be more empathetic. And those tits? Yes, men start getting them, too.

     I didn’t notice at first that it was happening to me, because I was working out, lifting weights. “Man, look at those pecs!” I’d marvel. The weights must really be working.. But then I began working out less. My biceps and triceps pretty much returned to their pre-workout size. But the “pecs” stayed as is.

     Fortunately, I’m pretty lean of build so my man-boobs aren’t all that big. If you’re a heavier guy, though, you may want to consider slimming down some before your polo shirts start looking  as though they were designed for Dolly Parton.

     As I said, funny things, hormones. And funny thing, life. We start out in diapers. Boys grow whiskers. Girls grow breasts. Then women grow whiskers. Men grow breasts. And we ultimately end up in diapers again.

     All you can do is laugh.

Say What?

     I was going to write today about a couple of aspects of aging that few people talk about: breasts on men and whiskers on women. And then I started thinking. There are things that also aren’t being written, most specifically comments from you about this blog.

     Now a lot of you have said you enjoy what you’re been reading here. But you say it in emails to me or messages on Facebook or in our occasional face-to-face encounters. But actual comments from you on this Boomerometer blog? Not so much.

     Why is that? Under each posting there’s space for your comments. All it requires are a few keystrokes on your keyboard (or thumbstrokes if you’re using a smartphone). Couldn’t get much easier to express yourself. I wish you would.

     It’s not that I’m looking for praise, although I never turn that down. I actually can take criticism, too. That’s the nice thing about electronic communication. Nobody can see you sob until you pull yourself together.

     But what I’d really like to hear are your opinions on what I’ve written. What you’re thinking about on this journey through life together. What subjects you’d like to have me explore. What subjects you’d prefer that I keep my big nose out of. What’s up in general – have an actual online back-and-forth about your concerns. That would mean a lot to me. It might even be meaningful for you.

     And next week, I’ll get back to man-boobs and bearded ladies.

    

Testing 1-2-3

     It’s a darn good thing that we’re old enough to learn patience. If we weren’t, the constant, conflicting health recommendations from experts would drive us nuts.

     I’m thinking here about the recent guideline controversies regarding pap smears and PSA tests. I can’t speak from direct personal experience regarding pap smears. Their frequency has been called into question by people who fear we’re being over-tested and, as a result, made overly anxious. I just tend to think that I’d want as much information as possible about possible threats to my health.

     I can speak directly about the PSA tests that screen for prostate cancer, though. As readers of this blog know, I’ve had the tests. I’ve had prostate cancer. I don’t have it any more because I got treatment. You can figure that I take this a little personally. But please don’t discount what I’m about to say because of my perceived bias or conflict-of-interest. Use that patience thing.

     The U.S. Preventive Services Task Force says it’s no longer recommending routine PSA tests for seemingly healthy men. It isn’t entirely clear, the task force says, whether the test leads to life-saving treatment. Many prostate cancers are extremely slow-growing. Something else may kill you first. Biopsies to determine if a guy actually has prostate cancer are medical procedures, and any medical procedure carries risks. Spikes in PSA readings can be caused by common things: a vigorous bike ride, an infection, recent sexual activity. And there’s that over-testing concern.

     Here’s my take: Don’t test seemingly healthy men? Prostate cancer exhibits no symptoms until it’s further along than you’d like. Prostate cancers can be slow growing? What if they’re not? What if they’re aggressive enough cause a spike in your PSA test? What if sex caused the spike in your reading? Ask for another blood test and stay out of the bedroom beforehand.

     And those over-testing concerns? It sure beats over-dying at the other end of that scale.

    

    

Don't Delay

     What made the folks dubbed by Tom Brokaw as “the Greatest Generation” so great? Well, they did win World War II, which isn’t shabby. But some experts theorize that they accomplished that – and as much as they did overall -- because they practiced deferred gratification. They were willing to put off getting what they wanted for themselves to make it easier for those who followed after them to get what that generation needed. Sacrifice now, enjoy later.

     Admirable.

     But I’m not suggesting that you do the same thing.

     No, I’m not saying you should be like some of the subsequent generations who sought mainly instant gratification: “I want it now. I want what I want when I want it. Save for the future? That’s only for old people.” Way to self-centered.

     But you are older now, and there are things that you want. I think you should go after them. Not all of them, mind you – this is an “everything in moderation” suggestion – but certainly, go after some of them. You’re not getting any younger, and that’s the problem.

     Travel, for instance. If there’s a trip that you’ve been wanting to take, you probably should take it. While you still can. My wife and I just got back from a great tour of New Orleans. Doing it right required considerable walking. We had to climb or descend occasional flights of stairs to explore some of the city’s great old buildings. We had to have the stamina to get up early and party late, at least for a few days. We did it all. We had a ball. But there were some people on our tour who had put off going for too long. One woman needed to use a walker to get around, meaning that stairs and narrow passageways were impassable. Others had hip or knee problems, or tended to fade as the day got longer. Oh, sure, they had a good time. Just not as good as we did.

     So don’t delay all your gratification. Spend some of your kids’ college fund if need be – they’ll get by; it builds character – but get yourself out there. Do some of the things on your bucket list before you kick it.

     You may even want to emulate the dowager whose will, read at the end of a long and fruitful life, said simply of her estate: “Being of sound mind, I spent it.”

    

Hair Raising

     Getting older can be a hairy proposition. I mean that literally.

     Sure, some people actually seem to lose hair in the process. Men go bald. Women’s hair can become seriously thin, or their foreheads get higher and higher. It keeps wigmakers in business.

     But I suspect that we don’t actually lose hair. It just is sucked into our craniums somehow – sort of the way a gopher will pull one of your prize plants down into its hole – and the hairs pop out at other places on our bodies.

     Ears, for instance. Hair begins appearing on the inside edge of your ears, just above the lobe. If it isn’t trimmed back regularly, it could develop into such a tangle that you’d probably have trouble hearing. You’d certainly have trouble getting a hearing aid through the thicket.

     Eyebrows, too. The brows just start growing as if they have minds of their own. Women pluck them, as they’ve done for years, but now with greater intensity. Men tend to tame their brows with scissors (we have lower thresholds of pain, apparently, and plucking is no picnic). Let the brows go, of course, and you get the Andy Rooney effect. People looking at you may be able to detect your eyes under there somewhere, but don’t count on it. Clearly, Rooney is not self-conscious. Clearly, he is the exception.

     And then there are the hairs on chests and arms. All of them get longer. And longer. If we still lived in caves, only the elderly would have a chance at survival by weaving those arm and chest hairs into blankets. You thought those pictures of cavemen showed them wearing animal skins? Not so. They were growing their own animal skins.

     None of this is particularly pretty. None of this is particularly ugly. It just is what it is.

     Hairs to you.

     Hairs to us all.

Bad Stuff II

     As you get older, statistics indicate that one of the Big Three – cancer, stroke or heart attack – will get you.

     Well, I’ve already told you about my experience with prostate cancer. Now, let me tell you about my stroke.

     It happened in mid-February. I’d been having a persistent headache in my right temple, which a doctor diagnosed as a possible sinus/allergy reaction. But then, when I went for a shopping trip to Costco, the other shoe dropped. I tried to reach into my pocket to get out my Costco card, and found that I couldn’t. My left hand wasn’t working, I wouldn’t do what I wanted it to do. Uh, oh. Headache and paralysis – two of the warning signs. Instead of going shopping, my wife hustled me to the hospital instead.

     Walk into an emergency room, tell them you think you’re having a stroke, and lots happens fast. They quickly stuck my head into a CT scan machine, where it was discovered that there had been bleeding – a puddle of blood at the temple where I’d felt the headache – that was affecting my left hand. I was given anti-seizure medication (the paralysis was diagnosed as a non-convulsive seizure), plus medication to reduce that blood puddle, and taken to the ICU for overnight evaluation.

     Subsequent brain scans showed the bleeding had stopped. It took awhile for the docs to get the proper balance of meds to keep my symptoms from recurring, but eventually they did. If the bleeding had continued, they would have had to go to Plan B – drilling into my skull to drain the blood – but that never became necessary. Good thing. I didn’t need another hole in my head.

     I had no recollection of bumping my head, which might have caused the bruise on my brain. It may have been that blood-thinning medication I’d been on to forestall heart problems had been contributory. No way of knowing for sure.

     But what I do know is that today I am symptom-free. The blood puddle has been reabsorbed. My left hand works the way it did before the stroke. The medication – and getting to the ER in a hurry – did the trick. If my stroke had been caused by a clot, and if I’d also gotten to the ER within three hours, they would have used TPA, a drug that busts clots, and I’d be in the same good shape afterward as I am now.

     The take-away from all this:

     Recognize the symptoms of stroke: sudden numbness of face or limbs, sudden severe headache, sudden dizziness or loss of balance, sudden difficulty speaking or understanding, sudden trouble seeing out of one or both eyes. You don’t need to have all of them. Any two will do.

     And if that happens, call 911 or get to a stroke center ER within three hours. Don’t put it off or hope you’ll get better. You will get better – but only if you get prompt help.

    So for me, that’s two out of the Big Three, and I’m still up and kicking. If I ever do have a heart attack, I hope I’ll be able to tell you about that afterward, too.

  

Get a Leg Up

     I don’t remember when I lost my ability to hunker. I only know that I can’t hunker any more, and I miss it.

     You know what a hunker is, right? That’s the sort of squat where you sit on your heels, knees bent. Kids, Native Americans and rural folks from the South and West are sort of famous for hunkering. They do it with no sweat. But now, when I try to hunker I find that I can’t. It’s too painful on my knees, and I don’t have the leg strength to get back up.

     I wish I’d worked harder at maintaining that leg strength when I was younger. Without legs that work well, you’re in danger of all sorts of bad things. Being too sedentary is bad for your health. Worse yet, a friend of mine has lost the use of her legs altogether – they’re just too weak now – and has become bedridden. Not many good outcomes follow that.

     So my wife and I now walk everywhere we can. We climb 10 flights, of 15 stairs each, every morning at home, weather permitting, and when it’s raining, I’m pedaling on my stationary bike instead. When I visit an office building, I try to use the stairs there, too. As I said, I’ve lost too much leg strength, and I’m trying to maintain and build up what’s left.

     I’d recommend that you keep your legs in mind, too. Use them. A lot. Get up out of your chair without using your arms (leaning forward is the key). Hit the gym when you can. Do laps around the block. Swimming is good, too. Get those muscles working regularly. Don’t take anything for granted.

     And don’t just sit there. Unless you still can hunker, in which case do that repeatedly as often as you can for as many years as you can. I guarantee you’ll miss it when it’s gone.