In 2024, I experienced three new medical issues. In the spring, the dermatologist found a cancerous lesion on my face. All those days of enjoying the outdoors had caught up to me. Accordingly, in May, the Mohs surgeon sliced away at my face until the cancer was gone. He did a nice job–minimal scarring.
In the fall, my lower back started to hurt, badly. Things got so tight and painful that I could barely put on my socks and shoes. The acute pain has diminished; however, the general pain in my back has spread to include my upper back. Accordingly, I have consulted two world renowned physicians: Doctor Google and Doctor YouTube. My diagnosis is degenerative disc disease. I am currently being treated by the best physical therapists YouTube has to offer. The stretches and exercises they have been teaching me do seem to help. My back pain has been going on since September, so it might be like my plantar fasciitis. When a podiatrist diagnosed that condition, he gave me three choices: manage the pain, have periodic injections or go under the knife. I chose to manage the pain.
Also in the fall, the dentist said it was time for a crown on my lower, right, rear molar. My dentist in the Navy over two decades ago warned me that this day would come. From that day to the day of my recent crown, I had that damn tooth worked on probably a dozen times. So I got some mileage out of it, but now, it’s onto the next phase of it’s journey wearing a stylish crown. Will a root canal be in its future? We shall see.
God has been gentle with my deterioration. Just like my aging G Wagon, I’m not falling apart all at once. I appreciate that. Too much, too soon would be far more difficult than gradually easing into obsolescence. Also, I have appreciated a couple of lessons from this year’s decline.
The first lesson from this year’s body deterioration is a lesson in humility and compassion. Even just a few years ago, I could decide on certain physical metrics–weight, waistline, body fat, BMI, etc.–and seemingly with the flip of a switch, achieve those metrics. You can read about some of that, here: Middle-aged Man to Rediscover Rock Hard Abs as Guide & Gauge for Best Life Now! Well, it’s a lot harder to achieve body metrics when you can’t do any exercise of any kind for a month because the wound across your face might open up or you can’t jog for three months because of crippling back pain, and then when you can jog again, you have to take it easy and space out your runs.
Even with careful diet control, if the exercise component is severely limited, I’ve found manipulation of physical metrics to be a steep uphill battle. And thus I have been humbled and have become more compassionate when I see others who appear not to be caring for their bodies. I have no idea what they are going through and have no basis to judge them. I’ve never been super judgmental, but when it was very easy for me to be physically fit, I was sometimes less understanding of those who didn’t exhibit what I deemed reasonable physical fitness. Thank you, God, for using my frailty to mold me into a better person.
The second lesson this year’s deterioration has taught me, particularly my back pain, is that I’m running out of time to engage in activities that require physical fitness. My body is past its prime, and decline is inevitable. Warren Buffett has said that his physical limitations in his 90s don’t bother him that much because he still can do what he wants to do. He plays bridge, reads, invests, converses, thinks, and writes a bit. His activities are all activities of the mind, and his mind is still sharp (although he has said he can’t read, comprehend, and calculate as quickly and for as long as he used to). With that said, though, Buffett used to play golf. That’s something he no longer can do. Father Time took that activity away from him years ago.
I read a very dangerous book this year called Die With Zero: Getting All You Can from Your Money and Your Life, by Bill Perkins. The book is a dangerous read, and likewise it is too dangerous not to read. The book explicates a fluid conflict throughout our lives between time, money, and health. For example, in our twenties, many of us are blessed with excellent health, and maybe we have some time, but rarely do many of us have much money. As we go into our middle stage of life, there’s a good chance we have some more money, but we likely have less time, and our health might not be so excellent, anymore. Then as we reach older age, some of us might have lots of unscheduled time, a fair amount of money, but we have significantly diminished health. So the book drives a theory of “time buckets”; there are certain segments of time in life that we won’t have again. We need to plan and act accordingly. Ultimately, we want to create many “memory dividends” on our journey in pursuit of the goal to “die with zero.” Everyone knows you can’t take it with you, and Perkins goes a step further by showing the opportunity cost and lack of utility of an oversupply of money in latter years.
Warren Buffett, the greatest investor of all time, even has questioned the utility of too much saving and investing. At one annual meeting, he said investors would need to ask themselves how big of a yacht in retirement they would need versus spending some money now to take their kids to Disneyland? Obviously, not everyone is fortunate enough to be worried about the size of his yacht in retirement or even to take his kid to Disneyland, but the point is well-taken. We must balance saving for tomorrow with living for today.
In my case, my back is telling me to do physical activities that are important to me, now, while I still can. My most enjoyed physical activity in the last few years has been surfing. I need to get better at it, fast. Best case scenario: if I can substantially increase my surfing skills quickly, I can use those skills to compensate for physical limitations in the years ahead. Worst case scenario, if I can’t surf in the years ahead, at least I’ll create a “memory dividend” by giving surfing a fair shot, now. Or more than a fair shot. As I stated in a previous post, I need to go nuclear on surfing. Warren Buffett has warned repeatedly not to save sex for old age. Likewise, I cannot delude myself into thinking I can push off learning to surf properly much longer.
With Love,
P. Gustav Mueller, author of The Present