The Bloody Doors Off

My GP is on maternity, so I’m seeing her interim replacement. There’s been a few appointments in the past 3 months: throwing out my back, blood and urine tests, an ultrasound, the results of which were discussed in a phone follow-up (which turned into an immediate in-person visit because I had a difficult time talking (a little slurring, reaching for words).

She did a quick neurological exam and noticed my hand tremors (the left is more pronounced). I’d written it off as something I’ve had for a long time (this is true).

I know I have to take good care of myself. Pancreatitis in 2011 (which I escaped big complications). Heart attack in 2021. So I made an appointment just before Christmas.

She starts a physical exam, and asks a host of questions, one of which really stood out.

Doctor: “Have you done cocaine?”

(How specific is that?)

Me: “Nope. Never.”

Doctor: “Are you sure?” (I’m not emphasizing for effect, she actually leaned into this one herself.)

I have trouble with short term memory (we all do, it’s called getting old), but I’d remember that.

The question needed to be asked. Yet I was a little put off, not because I’m so straight-laced as to be offended at the inquisition, instead recalling the one time I was at a Christmas party and two workmates went to the bathroom to snort up.

I wasn’t invited.

That was the closest I’ve come to doing cocaine. But in that moment, if asked, I would’ve tried it. (Hey, if it’s good enough for Coca-Cola…)

I am so boring. A recovering alcoholic since my early 20s (I hid it well) but now I trust myself with a beer every 4 to 6 months. I have a green thumb. That one time a dear friend flew into town, and we ingested mushrooms on a particularly grey and windy day on Ashbridge’s Bay. Didn’t feel anything.

Was nearly her sperm donor.

But that was asked well in advance of the shrooms.

No past cocaine usage. Absent other symptoms, we can also rule out Parkinson’s (Harrison Ford is acting the shit out this in Shrinking). To be certain, I’m seeing a neurologist in April.

2024 has been all kinds of fucked up, health wise. And there’s other shit that went down these past 12 months. But that’s another end-of-the-year blog post.

If I get around to it.

Right now, I’ve joined my wife as her administrative assistant, and I have new narrative ideas and a drive to sharpen the main characters’ voices in ‘A Song For Rachel‘, which will have a staged reading in late spring.

Now if you’ll excuse me, it’s 3 am and the family is gathering for a post-Christmas lunch later today.

I am gonna be so fucking tired.

If only I had a pick me up.