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Features
March 1, 2004
Her call rattled me, as does any call from
my doctor's office. The voice at the other end
of the line was sweet and calm but that didn't
make any difference. The implied message was
( as I took it ), "Get your ass over here
as fast as you can before you drop dead on the
spot!" What she actually said was something
like, "Doctor H would like to see you because
your cholesterol is a 'little' out of whack;"
to which I replied, "Am I going to die!?"
The poor woman seemed quite taken aback by my
reaction but quickly attempted to re-assure
me by saying, "Now, now Mr. Wells it's
our job to see that that doesn't happen and
we'd be irresponsible if we didn't call you
and arrange an appointment with the doctor.
Dr. H is in Mexico this week. I can fit you
in as soon as she gets back or you can see her
locum ( replacement ) Dr. M." I chose to
wait for Dr. H but quickly regretted my decision.
Nervously, I grabbed the receiver and called
her back. "Aaah I changed my mind, I think
I'd like to see Dr. M. Is that okay?" She
made the appointment for the next day, thank
God.
Thank God as well that she told me what it
was about because the things I would have imagined
otherwise do not bear mention. ( You know. I'd
be giving myself everything from a brain tumour
with six months to live, to a clapped-out heart
with only one hope...a transplant. ) Anyway,
in due course I saw Dr. M, a mature, trim, blonde
woman who wore wire-rimmed glasses and casual
dress ( ski pants and a hand-knit sweater ).
If she had not been wearing the proverbial stethoscope
around her neck I would have sworn she'd just
stepped off the slopes. For some weird reason
she also reminded me of Anne Robinson, the host
of The Weakest Link. She began by asking, "What
can we do for you today?" I was slightly
annoyed. After all, I was the one who had been
summoned by that dreadful telephone call. I
almost said, "Save my life you fool!,"
but thought better of it. I reminded her of
my serious and 'potentially' life threatening
problem, bad CHOLESTEROL. I swear, within a
split second of my mentioning that word she
began to gleefully rub her hands saying, "Oh
goody, I get to lecture you!" I slumped
with resignation into the hard-backed chair
and instantly imagined a life of the most awful
deprivation ahead of me. No more eggs, no more
red meat, no more chocolate or creamy cheese,
no more bacon club sandwiches, no more flakey
pastries. I was staring into the gaunt face
of a terminator of pleasure who was about to
tell me that life, as I knew it, was over. (either
that, or, "Karl Wells, YOU are the weakest
link, GOOD-BYE!" You know what I'm saying?
)
The news was bad enough. My LDL cholesterol
( the bad kind ) was up by three points. It's
a bit over what she'd like it to be but not
alarmingly so. However, because I had four uncles
die with heart attacks ( two of my mother's
siblings and two of my father's ) she thought
it prudent that I lose fifteen pounds and cut
back on the fats. "Cut back on" is
what she said. I clung to those three words
like a drowning man to a piece of driftwood.
If she had said "cut out", "banish",
or "eliminate forever" I would have
fallen to my knees and begged to be put out
of my misery then and there. ( Yeah, folks.
Food IS that important to me. I love it. It's
one of the great pleasures in my life and I
don't apologize for it. ) I reasoned, "perhaps
one scoop of Ben and Jerry's Chunky Monkey instead
of two, half a slice of chocolate eruption cake
instead of a full slice?" Maybe I could
salvage something of the life of food loving
I had known. I left Dr. M's office feeling a
tad better than when I went in...just a tad.
Since my bad news ( Well, it wasn't good news
was it? ) I have encountered two people who
have indirectly provided me with lessons in
the dangers of high cholesterol and body neglect
that no general practitioner ever could. The
first was a very nice chap named Terry Dalton,
an accountant with the government who almost
died ( white light and all that stuff ) about
seven years ago from a sudden heart attack.
Terry was playing a game of scrimmage hockey
with 'the guys' at Brother O'Heir Arena in St.
John's. He had just stepped through the gate,
bounding onto the ice for a shift when it happened.
He told me that's all he remembers. The rest
of the story comes from those present at the
time. Apparently, Terry fell slowly to his knees
as if he had caught his foot in something. The
other players fully expected him, within seconds,
to get up and start skating again. But that
did not happen. Terry lay still. A couple of
guys in the group immediately started CPR while
another called 911. When the emergency crew
arrived, their oxygen machine didn't work (
Don't you just hate it when that happens? )
so they had to continue giving manuel resusitation
until Terry finally made it to the hospital.
His heart stopped several times during the ordeal.
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With heart attack
survivor, Terry Dalton
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Turns out one of Terry's arteries was blocked
by 90 %. He told me he'd had no indication a
heart problem existed until he dropped to the
ice that cold winter evening. Needless to say,
I was curious to know exactly what had caused
what surely would have been a fatal heart attack
had knowledgeable people not been present at
the rink. He told me it was the dreaded cholesterol.
Even though he was thin, active and eating reasonably
well, he was the victim of high cholesterol.
In his case, it was a hereditary condition.
Now, in addition to heart meds that thin his
blood and control his blood pressure, Terry
must take a cholesterol lowering medication.
I asked him if he still plays hockey, and he
quite candidly told me he is too scared. I would
be too. Wouldn't you? I had told him about my
cholesterol 'problem' and we parted with a handshake
and some advice. He looked me in the eye and
said, seriously, "Hey...take care of yourself."
My next lesson came in the most unlikely place
you can imagine, an anotomy lab at the MUN Medical
School where I was interviewing a charming associate
professor of anatomy named Shakti Chandra. The
topic was an outreach program where MUN was
inviting members of the general public to enroll
in short medical courses to give them a sense
of what the school teaches future physcians.
( Speaking of that, Dr. Shakti Chandra, a member
of the MUN faculty for thirty years, has taught
about half of the physcians now practicing in
Newfoundland and Labrador. )
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At MUN School of
Medicine with Dr. Chandra
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Because Dr. Chandra is teaching future doctors
about the workings of the human body, she and
her students work with human bodies that have
been generously and unselfishly donated by their
former owners. The remains are treated with
the greatest respect. I do not have a weak stomach
and was quite fascinated to see real human organs
up close. One of the most interesting and unsettling
things I was shown was a heart that had had
a by-pass performed on it. ( No doubt, like
me, the poor devil had high cholesterol. ) What
struck me immediately was the apparent fragility
of this particular heart and the tenuous and
temporary appearance of the by-pass. ( I was
reminded of the times, as a kid, when I'd go
on long car trips over 1960's gravel roads with
my father. Invariably, the car would have some
mechanical breakdown that would be repaired
with a temporary and iffy patch of some kind.
The patch was only meant to last until we could
get to the nearest garage. ) The normal heart
is a self-contained, compact muscle. The heart
I was shown was enlarged and had what appeared
to be a long string ( actually an vein from
the guy's leg ) attached to the outside of it.
One end of the 'string' was sewn into a spot
near the bottom of the heart, while the other
end was sewn into a spot near the top. The string
sort of dangled perilously from its two anchor
points on the organ. ( Our bodies are not cars
and this patch-up was the best fix available.
) My next thought was, "How in the hell
can I prevent this from happening to me?"
I came away from my visit with Dr. Chandra
marvelling at how incredibly sophisticated our
bodies are, but at the same time realizing how
fragile we are. I saw lungs that were actually
black with soot from cigarette smoking ( Smoke
makes soot. Where did you think the stuff went?
Ever seen the inside of a chimney? ). I saw
a leg bone with a steel ball attached to it
instead of a hip joint. I saw a discolored liver
entirely covered with pebble-like protrutions.
It was cirrhotic. The owner was an alcoholic.
I saw a woman's foot that had been horribly
mis-shapen from years of wearing pointy, confining
footwear. Much of the serious damage I saw was
entirely preventable. Yet, we humans continue
to do things that are bad for our bodies...for
whatever reason. Dr. Chandra told me she found
it puzzling that, since we only have one body,
so many people insist on doing things that are
bad for it. Well, I'm as guilty as the next
guy. I smoked for a couple of years, and, at
times, I have consumed too much good food and
drink.
So, what to do? Well, I guess my middle-aged
body is sending me a message. "Look after
me better...or else." I will "cut
back" as Dr. M suggested and I will even
try to go a little further. Terry Dalton told
me something else. He said he felt that stress
also contributed to his heart attack. I'll try
to cut back on that as well, perhaps through
exercise. It IS the only body I have and yours
is the only one YOU have. I'll end with Terry's
parting message to me, "Hey...take care
of yourself."
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