It's Not a Tumor

Woke up this morning with the headache of the century. Thought I was dying  of a brain aneurysm of something, which wouldn't have surprised me, given all the troubles I've had lately. Got up, went outside, and found the sky cloudy and a sprinkle starting up--a major change from yesterday, which was clear and sunny. Went back inside, gave my nose a couple shots of Afrin, took a pseudoephedrine and found that the headache soon retreated. I'll be darned, it wasn't a brain aneurysm after all. It was the weather. 

Even back in Portland, I had a problem with weather change like this during the springtime. Unstable weather. There's just something about my system that can't handle it. 

What to do? Keep that spray handy, I guess, and wait for the season to change. 

Regimen

There are about six easy-to-access beaches here in Sanur, which works out pretty well with my new plan to take a good walk every morning after a reasonable breakfast, which itself is part of my new plan to try to follow a diet and exercise regimen toward the end of controlling blood pressure and blood sugar. You have to kind of kick yourself in the seat of the pants to get started in the morning, but once you get down to the beach, it's quite nice, the air is cool (sort of--this is, after all, Bali) and the tourists have not yet descended on the seashore (nor have the Indonesian sellers). I don't know what I'll do in rainy season, but for the time being, I think this will work out pretty well. 

Biting the Dust

Two falls in three days, And the most recent a quite spectacular one on the sidewalk in Sanur--a full body fall. you know, flat out hitting the ground is a cloud of dust, chin in the gravel, and so on. A belly flop, you might say. Embarrassing. Three motorbikes stopped to assist me, just as if I'd been in a wreck. Oh my God, Mister, and you okay?

Again, embarrassing.  

So, was this the high blood pressure pills I've been on or just clumsiness. Hmm. Who can say? 

It is true, however, that I have been feeling awfully spaced out and rather dizzy, which is something I tend to attribute to the BP meds. So I've gone off the damn things for now--and in fact I feel markedly better today. And I have so far remained upright!

How Dry I Am, How Wet I'll be ..

What's the deal.with me and bathroom doors? Once again, another place, another time, mine locked on me, although this time, thankfully, I was on the outside and not on the inside (which nonetheless presents problems of its own.

I had returned to my room from the patio area, headed for the bathroom, and found the door closed and locked. My first thought was "Who on earth can be in my bathroom?" Of course, no one could be in my bathroom, for I live alone. But just to be sure, I knocked before I proceeded to pull and twist and rattle the door. It would not budge and the knob would not turn.

"Ah," I thought after taking a breather, "surely one of my keys will fit the lock (and I was beginning to really need one to do so).

But no, they did not.

Who makes a locking bathroom door with no key?

Well, this time I had my phone anyway (unlike the time I was locked inside the bathroom) and so I was able to call Pak Aan, the caretaker.

Pak Aan rushed over, armed with various tools, but at last was only able to open the door (at my suggestion) by charging it with his shoulder. Just like in the movies.

Whew, what a relief.

"The mechanism is frozen in place," Pak Aan said. "It shouldn't happen again."

Nevertheless, I've placed a towel in the entryway just to be sure!

Vague

I seem to have developed a singular talent for producing writings just vague enough that they are able to inspire equally obscure responses from some readers. I mean to say that from what I write, some readers derive meanings almost perfectly in tune with what I did NOT write. It happens, I suppose, but more often in poetry than in prose.  I believe that I have been succinct, mind you (I do not set out to be vague), and yet I will learn in this or that case that I have somehow ended up saying what I did not intend to say at all. In fact, I have somehow said what I did not say. It's perplexing. 

On the other hand, there are some readers who apparently see themselves at the center of all things, such that any pronoun is interchangeable with the reader's own name, or such that any general sort of statement becomes particular. What can be done about it? I don't know. 

When I used to write novels, people would pick themselves out. "I'm so-and-so," they would say. 

"Umm, no you're not." 

"Yes, I am. And I'm not happy, by the way, with what you said about me." 

So it goes. The poor writer, who has said nothing at all about the person in question, has somehow ended up saying it all. 

Or perhaps this has something to do with the particular reader's expectation, such that the role he finds himself playing is the role he himself has cast himself in. 

It's worth a thought. 

On Second Thought

Several people have responded to my recent post, "Weird", noting the propensity of doctors to "find" problems or to begin treatment of a lot of things quite unrelated to the problem for which one has sought a doctor's help in the first place. I suspect that this is quite true. Especially for older men such as me, we may appear to be treasure troves of potential medical conditions. That might be fine if you have insurance and enjoy going to the doctor, but neither is the case with me. Stepping back, I observe that my blood pressure is not terrifically high, and my blood sugar is just a bit above normal (borderline). It strikes me that these abnormalities may be directly related to the long-running infection I have had, and n any case might be treated with a stricter diet and more exercise.  Rather than giving stacks of money to the hospital for visits and medications, it seems more logical to take a conservative approach and see how things go--for the fact is, when I first sought medical help, I was not aware of any symptoms of high blood pressure or high blood sugar. What I was aware of was the pain from the damn throat infection! So, I reckon fixing that first and then seeing how I feel otherwise may be the best course. It is certainly the most financially viable one. 

Weird

This is actually kind of weird. Back before mid February I was feeling rather well. Just normal, I mean. No big problems. I had the usual shoulder and neck pain, but no big deal. And then suddenly everything crashed or around February 15th, just about the time I reluctantly moved to Sanur (for I did not want to move from the little house in Renon). I was ill, actually, at the time I moved, and thought, at the time, that it was just the common flu. Now it's one thing after another: the fungal throat plague, borderline diabetes, high blood pressure, high cholesterol, vitamin B deficiency, andropause. 

Why?

I always try to connect these things with some event or action. Moving, for instance. Or perhaps the big fat brown dog had put a curse on me because I moved (and thus removed both her bedroom and her easy food source). Or perhaps the villa I moved to is cursed or hosts some evil presence. I don't doubt it, sometimes. 

Then again, perhaps this is all because I've not been to the doctor or had any lab studies in years. How would one know, for instance, that he has high cholesterol? How would one know that he has high blood pressure? How would one know that he has borderline diabetes except by the general notion, in all cases, that he doesn't feel quite well?

Knowing now that one has these problems, they are accentuated all the more. One is aware of them beyond the vague feeling that he doesn't feel quite well. One takes his medication and worries over how many pills remain and how he will get more pills and what he must pay to do so. Naming one's illnesses has a certain downside. Or, as the old saying goes, it may sometimes be that ignorance is bliss. 

I started out trying to cure what I thought was the flu. I ended up with a multitude of diseases. Sheesh. 

And where is multiple sclerosis in all this. My goodness, it has been forgotten! But of course, it has not forgotten itself. t is still lurking around in the aggregate mix. It involves itself in whatever else is present, like an unwanted hanger-on. The neurologist here told me that he treats another American with multiple sclerosis (wonders never cease!) who ended up with an ischemic attack somehow related to MS. Go figure. The more I learn about all this stuff, the more aware I become of how little I know.