The old-fashioned British term "rude health" has always amused me. Apparently, to be in rude health is to be fit, strong and very well. A person in rude health might be able to undertake a vigorous run, a challenging bicycle ride or a swim across the English Channel. My own favourite image of rude health is somebody with the gas capacity of Jupiter, trumpetting triumphantly down the High Street, keeping those not in rude health at a safe distance.
Then, there were also those who might "enjoy poor or ill health". My paternal grandmother could have been described as this. She wheezed like a freight train her entire life, possibly due to rheumatic fever as a child. She was an employed and successful unmarried woman, rising to be manager of a small office. Engaged to my grandfather, they had to wait to build their own home before they married.
Once they'd tied the knot, she produced three strapping boys in six years, and promptly turned into a not terribly bright dithery matron. She enjoyed the card game Solo - a form of Whilst - and procrastinating what to order when the grocer was actually at her back door. She had household help and of course, never worked again. She also lived to an exceedingly ripe old age. And I seem to remember she had a chaise lounge at close hand in case of a sudden fit of the vapours.
Unlike my grandmother, I am most irritated at developing a few chronic health conditions in my early sixties. All of us who have reached a certain vintage would agree that ageing is not always beer and skittles. In fact, becoming older sometimes totally sucks.
In spite of my recent and rather startling medical results, I am determined to stay as well as possible so I can continue to enjoy life, the universe and everything. Hence, I am now a very good buddy of our GPs, respiratory specialist and skin specialist. In fact, I believe that Scott, our respiratory specialist should provide a repeat offenders discount as now Alex, Michael and me all see him...
What really irks me is the totally banal titles for my conditions. Take "small airways disease" for example. This phrase does not even come close to describing the extent of this nasty little bastard inhabiting the itty-bitty inner tubes of my lungs. I think a re-name to "Enormously Irritating and Disruptive Pesky Lung Schemozzle". Quite catchy I think...
Then, there is my "Stiff Left Heart Syndrome", which is a much more obscure and perhaps tasteful definition of left heart failure. Basically, my left ventricle doesn't relax well and thus inadequately fills with blood, and then inadequately pumps out that blood to my body. Obviously, a more appropriate explanatory title should be "Buggered Left Heart In Need Of A Long Holiday With Plentiful Cocktails".
"Pulmonary Hypertension" describes high pressure within the arteries that travel from my heart to my lungs. This pressure impedes the blood flow to my lungs, increasing my most annoying breathlessness at inopportune moments. Given that this is a bit of a battle to get through, I suggest to change the name to "Up Shit Creek Without A Paddle In Rather Unhelpful Tunnels".
"Mild Regurgitation of the Mitral and Tricuspid Valves" really sounds rather revolting. The valves just don't open and close as well as they should, resulting in blood getting really confused about which way to go. Given that this is a problem with opening and closing swinging door-like structures, a far better descriptive phrase would be "Just Try And Close The Bloody Doors! You Weren't Born In A Tent!"
"Atrial Septal Defect" used to be known as a "Hole in the Heart", which was both terrifying and incorrect. An ASD is actually just the case of a foetal communication called the Foramen Ovale not closing after birth between the two atria as it should. My ASD is apparently quite small but has never closed and was not picked up until a couple of months ago. Apparently, I shouldn't have any problems with its presence in my heart...Yeah, right. In light of its potential influence with all my other hick-ups in that general vicinity, I will now refer to my ASD as "Another Stunning (Albeit Small) Disaster".
That just about covers reclassification of all my ailments. Just one further whinge then I will be on my way...
I am somewhat cranky at my inability to rid myself of a persistently disagreeable chest infection. Last Friday, I was prescribed two Atom Bomb antibiotics and an oral steroid. I was familiar with one of the antibiotics only. The other one promptly gave me a unprecedented case of the shits which has only subsided today as I ceased taking this explosive pill. These effects were entirely unexpected and I shall be having severe words with my quack when I see him next. Having an infection is one thing. Sharting is not acceptable, especially if ill-prepared for this horrendous consequence to a drug.
In summary, I am not currently in rude health, but I have no intention of enjoying ill health. I am focusing on being at fit and healthy as possible for our Great Northern Exposure this winter, so I can walk and fossick and commune with my beloved Michael, Stella and Lexi and the stunning Western Australian landscapes.
However, I shall prevail! And enjoy time away with Stella and Lexi
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