| January 2, 2024

I hate to bore you with the health complaints of a 76-year-old, but I’m hopeful my experiences will help others. My story begins with a medical scare and a series of doctor appointments. So many, in fact, that the phlebotomist at my internist’s office started welcoming me with “Oh, no, not you again!” which is not the kind of greeting I want at a lipid lab. By the way, all is fine.

In the course of the diagnostic process, they scanned my brain. Inside the MRI, I felt like a cigar in its tube. During the hour-long procedure, I had a flashback to a high school trigonometry class where I also stared at a blank ceiling, listening to strange indecipherable sounds. At the hospital they give you a little buzzer to press if the experience becomes unbearable, a courtesy never afforded me by Mr. Lowenstein, my 12th grade math teacher.

A nurse called the next day to say that after examining my brain scan, they were pleased to report they didn’t find anything. Obviously this was good news, but did the test results have to be phrased quite that way?

I visited a few specialists, each exam requiring that I have my blood pressure, height and weight rechecked.

I had never really paid any attention to my height. On my license, my passport and all medical questionnaires, I always listed myself as 5′ 10″—not as tall as my dad (a strapping six-footer) but taller than my mom, a petite 5′ 3″. I knew I was 5′ 9 1/2″, but I always rounded it up. I mean, who was I hurting?

“Okay,” said one nurse after measuring my vitals, “blood pressure 123 over 80, height 5′ 8”, weight 165. Very good, Mr. Wolfsie, now please step over here and…”

“Whoa! How tall did you say I was?”

“That would be 5 feet, 8 inches—in your socks, which adds a little, of course.”

“Look, first of all, I’m 5′ 10″, maybe 5′ 9 1/2″, and second of all, these are nylon dress socks, and very thin.”

“Whatever you say, Mr. Wolfsie. Please grab one of the blue robes off that hook on the door…if you can reach it.”

That afternoon when I got home, I asked my wife how tall she thought I was. “Well, let’s see, when I’m in heels, I’m taller than you, and I’m 5′ 7″, so I guess I’d say you are 5′ 8″. And you’re still about as cute and adorable as can be.”

“But when we got married, I told you I was 5′ 10”.

“I figured you rounded it up from 5′ 7”.

And that’s the end of the story. No life-threatening illness, but I’m either a pathological liar (misrepresenting my height for almost 50 years) and need some psychological counseling—or I am (and this is tough to admit) shrinking.

I haven’t decided which one it is. I guess it’s going to depend on which one is covered by my medical insurance.

Share this story!
Cat Nap
“Dick, I know that the snoring is not intentional. But it has some devastating effects on our health and well-being. What are we going to...
Brain Trust
The "Keep Your Brain Alive" book encourages you to use each of your senses in new and innovative ways to create new neural pathways...

Related

Now That You’re Grown-Up… What do you want to be?
Maybe you are one of the lucky few who can daydream with enthusiasm about, "when I retire, I am going to..." Assuming you have arrived...
Another Bartell’s Story
Dorie May's job at Bartell's earned her the money to purchase a lifetime subscription to Readers Digest for $25. It arrived faithfully every month for...
Learning Kindness and Humanity from Dad
This unkempt little man would show up with neatly combed hair, the cleanest pair of khaki pants he had and proudly wearing the Cub Scout...
Manifesto Against Ageism
Applewhite notes that ageism silences older people; that’s why she’s written her most recent book...
I Did What — All Those Years Ago?
“Are you saying that, somehow, because of a conversation after two glasses of Chablis fifteen years ago, I have become a caregiver to a very...
The 12 Dogs of Christmas
This Christmas story begins on a cold October night many long years ago...

BE IN THE KNOW

NWPT-Subscribe

Recent Posts

Introducing Greek Spoon Sweets
From the Streets to the Starting Line: Patrick Busche’s Remarkable Road to Recovery
Seattle’s Light-Rail Era Begins
Sequim Lavender Festival
Echoes of Their Unspoken Love from Around the World

BE IN THE KNOW

NWPT-Subscribe

Recent Posts

Introducing Greek Spoon Sweets
From the Streets to the Starting Line: Patrick Busche’s Remarkable Road to Recovery
Seattle’s Light-Rail Era Begins
Sequim Lavender Festival
Echoes of Their Unspoken Love from Around the World