SOME BAD PARTS ABOUT AGING

I stood on the side watching the lazy fly ball go towards short right center field. I was out of action for our weekday Weintraub team softball game and a new guy patrolled my position in right. Right field, of course, was not my true position. I always played in center field or left, where most of the action is, because I've always been one of the best (if not THE best) defensive outfielder on the team. But that hasn't been true for years and I've had to slide over to the least hit to part of the field. But not that day because I was watching another player rush in for that fly. He charged aggressively, yelling "mine, mine, mine" as he closed on the ball, finally catching it about chest high. It was a good play, not a great play, the kind I've made a thousand times in my life. But not recently. Whether it's because I've slowed, don't pick up the flight of the ball as quickly or my reflexes have diminished (a combination of all?) I have, in fact, become less aggressive out there. On this play I probably would've peered to my side to see if the right center fielder was giving chase. When I realized that he wasn't I'd have come in as hard as possible, probably making the play, but not as easily as my new teammate had done. I'd likely have gotten there a bit late and had to reach down to my knees or even ankles to make the play. When I did my teammates would congratulate me warmly and probably think I was the best 62 year old outfielder around. But I would have known the truth. The play need not have been so hard. And there was another truth I was concealing from my supportive teammates. I had told most of them that I was out with a groin injury. Not quite the full gospel. It did have to do with the groin area but less an injury than an insult. During the previous week my prostate had grown enormously. Well, maybe a fraction of an inch or so. But enough to stop the flow of urine. I'd stood in my office bathroom unable to pee. I'd stormed around my office a bunch of times hoping to shake something loose. I'd taken, at my doctor's suggestion, a hot bath. But still I stood there futilely, feeling more and more uncomfortable, more and more panicky. Finally I looked up and thought: "Just please let me pee." And then I thought: "But you don't believe in god. You are talking to the bathroom ceiling." Sadly that didn't answer prayers either. I ended up in the emergency room with, ultimately, a device stuck in me and a recommendation to see a urologist the next day. I did. As expected he prescribed flomax and said he'd take the device out in a few days. Not in time for that Monday night game, however, which I watched feeling part man, part mechanical device, definitely not right fielder. So I coached third base and waived 2 runners home who both got thrown out, just my contribution to a game that ended in a 0-0 tie. Not a good night. But I was hopeful that tomorrow would be better because that was the day the device was scheduled to come out. I'd have prayed that the flomax was doing the trick if only, you know, I believed in a god. The prostate gland surrounds the urethra which is the tube leading from the bladder to the penis. When the prostate grows during the aging process it pinches in on this tube, impeding and sometimes blocking urine flow. Flomax and alpha blocker medications like it prevent this from happening by some magical process that doesn't actually involve shrinking the prostate. I had a history with flomax. It began a little over a year ago when I noticed, much to my horror, blood in my urine following a hard run. My doctor was reassuring saying it was likely exercise induced trauma, a pretty unserious issue that involves the bladder, sometimes because of poor hydration, takes a beating during vigorous workouts like running. He sent me to a urologist who said, after an initial office exam, that he was "85% certain" that's what it was. To rule out the other, scarier, possibilities, he sent me for a series of tests that culminated with an actual peek inside the bladder (do not ask me how!)4 weeks later. I was highly anxious with each test but each test yielded negative results. Finally, the ultimate look see confirmed the original diagnosis. Apparently there was just a pesky capillary in the bladder that would sometimes break under stress. "Nothing to worry about," my doctor said. "If and when it happens again, treat it as a nose bleed." So the aging process had caused blood in my urine to morph into a bloody nose, like when I once fouled a bunt off directly down onto home plate and it bounced up and hit me in my shnoz. But the urologist told me 1 thing more. Another test had shown my urine flow wasn't so great. I knew it but just regarded it as an inconvenience of, you know, aging. He suggested flomax. I took it and, sure enough, the problem ceased. Sadly another began. Flomax mildly lowers blood pressure and this had the effect of raising my heart rate. Absolutely no big deal. Except when I ran I began getting incredibly fatigued after just a mile and a half or so. I began slowing my runs, shortening them and doing them less frequently. I'd stop after 3 and a half miles to drink water and rest. I ran a 5 mile race in Central Park that was SO SLOW that it was like a training run. Not connecting it with the flomax at first I wondered if something was physically wrong with me. Then, thinking I didn't seek out help for slow urine flow at all I decided to experiment and see what would happen without the medicine. What happened was I speeded back up and was able to train like myself again and run races faster and faster. And the pesky flow problem didn't return. Till it did last week. Only worse. So I wanted the flomax to help. And I didn't want to be on it because it will probably ruin my running again. The next day I went to the urologist, really nervous about what would happen. He took the device out and...nothing happened. Could barely pee. If this isn't working I know what the next step is...laser surgery. I don't want laser surgery. Certainly not in that area. "It doesn't mean anything," the urologist said. "You're bladder is empty. Give it time." I explained my running problem to him and he said there are different medications but they're all alpha blockers. They'll all probably do the same thing. There are some chemical differences between brands and maybe my body will react differently to a different one. So he gave me an alternate prescription. But he didn't give me a lot of hope. So I went home, not knowing if the flomax would work and, if it did, not knowing if my running would be ruined. I got home and, sure enough, I'd come back to life! Can not tell you how good it is to regain a function that had been so automatic till it stopped. But that night there seemed to be a problem. Nothing much was happening and I must have gotten out of bed 6 times to try. I was so anxious that I was going not out of a sense of urgency but more out of a sense of testing to see if it would flow. Going to the bathroom had become a medical test. I was a mess and slept not a week. I was contemplating surgery and worrying about how long after it it would be before I knew if I was alright. I did have an early morning appointment with the urologist who wanted to be sure that my bladder was emptying. I was sure that it wasn't and wondered how quickly we could set the surgery up and how foolish would it be for me not to get a second opinion. The doctor ran his hand held ultrasound machine over my belly and said the bladder was pretty empty and that was the reason I couldn't go last night. He said I must've become anxious and that made me keep trying though there was nothing much there to come out. He said to relax. And oh, by the way, there's a stone in my bladder that probably causes the bleeding and also a stone in my right kidney that requires watching. More sucky aging stuff. He said come in tomorrow and we'll check the bladder again just to be sure. After that it all seemed to improve. I returned the next morning expecting good news then began to panic as he approached me with the ultrasound. What if I felt good but the bladder was all stuffed up? Emergency surgery then? I needn't have worried. All was well. Better than the day before in fact. . "Come back in a month," he suggested which I took as a good sign and then we got into an argument about Obama care. I have a softball game this Sunday and he said I could play. I want to run on Saturday and he said there's no reason not to do it. I left feeling really good...if I can just get back into my athletics without a problem. So today I did a bunch of pushups. An hour later there was blood in my urine. Oh, god (in whom I don't believe). This is too much. I told myself that this was likely nothing more than residual trauma from having a device in me for so long and the fact that I'd just worked out for the first time. Even pushups puts pressure in that area. But damn! Couldn't I just get to feel okay and fine and confident for the weekend? With all this I don't want to rely strictly on western medicine. I actually had an appointment with an accupuncturist and herbologist who I'd seen before and once during this crisis. I got to her and she asked if I continued to be okay since I'd emailed her the previous day. "Well, therein lies a story," I answered. "Let me tell you it and then we'll decide if I continue to be okay." So I told her and she was reassuring that it was the combination of bladder stone and exercise that lead to the bleeding. "The bladder stone is actually good news because it explains things." I think she's right. But who knows? Then she put needles in me. Weird. Not pleasant, a little painful. She'd tell me to breathe before needling me. I'd breathe hard. One of the spots that reduces inflamation in the prostate is the ear lobe. Didn't hurt but seems strange. Everything seems strange, frankly. I don't want to sit back and do nothing about the stones. She says there are granules that I can take to reduce and ultimately eliminate the stones and strengthen both the kidneys and bladder. Should take about 3 months. Eager to get going with it. Then we'll talk about other alternatives. And now I want to get back to all the things I love. I hope they won't somehow restart the problem. I've been told by all concerned that this is not likely at all. So I'll try. Maybe I shouldn't slide. Maybe I should hope for rain this Sunday. I hope the flomax doesn't screw up my running. If it does I hope a different medication will be better for my running but just as good for my prostate. I really don't know what's coming next though I do know that nothing I'm doing will make me a better outfielder. And that's some of the bad parts, at least in my case, of aging.