How can Some People Recover Repeatedly?

Some people seem to take hit after hit and keep coming back for more. They usually end up like the Grandpa (pictured) in the movie Grumpier Old Men:

Grandpa: Well let me tell you something now, Johnny. Last Thursday, I turned 95 years old. And I never exercised a day in my life. Every morning, I wake up, and I smoke a cigarette. And then I eat five strips of bacon. And for lunch, I eat a bacon sandwich. And for a midday snack?
John: Bacon.
Grandpa: Bacon! A whole damn plate! And I usually drink my dinner. Now according to all of them flat-belly experts, I should've took a dirt nap like thirty years ago. But each year comes and goes, and I'm still here. Ha! And they keep dyin'.

I always thought it would be funny if John (Jack Lemmon) said back to Grandpa (Burgess Meredith): “That’s ‘cause you were the trainer in the Rocky movies!”

In any case, a few days ago I wrote an entry about a family member that ended up in surgery over the weekend. That person is still in the hospital, but now expected to make a full recovery from something that should have killed him years ago. This guy has been near death in a hospital bed so many times, and he always makes it through to laugh another day. Everyone was amazed he had lived so long with this particular problem going undetected – the pain should have been excruciating.

Which leads me to wonder, do the same people who have an extremely high tolerance for pain also the ones who seem to pull through multiple major health events repeatedly? The kind of events that would otherwise kill the average person? Is their pain threshold so high they keep surviving when other people's bodies couldn’t take it anymore?

I realize there is no real easy answer to the question, but the whole past week has got me thinking.

I actually know a few other older people who, by doctor’s opinions, should have been gone already. At this time I can only admire these elders and hope one day I’ll be the one eating the bacon laughing at the experts who said I shouldn’t have lasted through it all.

Waiting on News from the Hospital

There are many types of phone calls I dread receiving. This Valentine’s Day, I got one which ranks among the top calls I’d rather not get.

After taking my wife out to dinner at her favorite Italian place, my cell rang. The person calling knew it was Valentine’s Day and we’d be out for the night, so right away it was obvious something was wrong. When the voice on the other ended sounded frantic, I knew something was VERY wrong. Unfortunately, a loved one was admitted to the emergency room with extreme internal abdomen pain, but with no outward symptoms.

I think ER staff is trained to triage in their first college course. What really messes up their groove is when someone walks in with a mystery pain and not bleeding from anywhere. No broken bones? No blood? No sickness? No chest pain? Their diagnosis might as well be a big question mark on a chart with a recommendation for transfer to any other floor with an open bed.

On a good note, luckily, the family member in agony did not have to remain in the waiting room too long; it was practically empty. Apparently it was too cold outside that night for people to be out doing anything stupid and going to the emergency room.

This is where the tough part begins though – the waiting for any type of news from the hospital staff. When a patient’s pain is not easily diagnosed, a string of doctors, nurses and specialists run a myriad of tests. Each professional has their own schedule and each test’s results take time to read, all accumulating to an eternity of waiting for an answer and next course of action.

In my case, I was not able to be bedside, so to deal with the waiting and stress I had to preoccupy myself. Since I was worn out from worrying so much, the first thing I did was sleep for 12 hours. Upon waking, I then

• Cleaned the kitchen


• Alphabetized a DVD collection


• Moved archived files onto a new computer


• Installed 6 pieces of software


• Cleaned my porch


• Brushed a very large dog who sheds excessively


• Ate almost all the ice cream in the house

By this time, I finally got another phone call to the effect of “they still don’t know what’s wrong; they’re calling in two surgeons.”

When hearing news of multiple surgeons opening up a loved one, many people have different reactions. Some may cry, others may pray, me – well, I was hungry for more ice cream.

At this point, the situation reminds me of taking apart a car’s entire engine to find out what the squeak is under the hood. I just hope when the mechanics all get in there they find the source of the problem.

…and I’m still waiting for another call from the hospital…