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One of the things that people do when they get older, is hang out together at each others' medical appointments. Today I went along with my boyfriend/partner to see how well his broken ankle is healing. (He sure looks a lot healthier than most of the people hobbling around the hospital.) Progress is good, though that's another thing about aging. It takes longer to heal, so he's a while to go yet before he's back to hale and hearty. But he gets to start physio, which means one of these days he'll get to stop using crutches.

Anyway, while he was in with the doctor, I was regaled with gruesome tales by a retired fireman. He told me of his radiation treatments, which followed his throat cancer operations, but assured me he'd never smoked. His speech was a bit challenged, because part of his tongue was gone. He showed me the scars from his skin grafts. He also filled me in that his two sisters have battled cancer too. I heard a lot about polyps and ostomy bags. He'd had a colonoscopy as well, which is recommended for people with a family history like his. I declined to tell him I've had one too (interesting procedure) though I did contribute that colon cancer is what got my mother.

For a while he stopped, because someone sat between us, but when they left, we talked about how many firemen have throat cancer (this is anecdotal, I have no idea whether it's true, though all that smoke can't be good...). I wondered whether they mentioned this possibility when he was recruited into the job, and he had words to say about compensation. Anyway, if you're young, and attracted to those buff young firemen who show up in calendars, remember this as a cautionary tale.

On Wednesday my sweetie gets to return the favour. He's going to come with me when I go to get my gall bladder removed, though my sister will be the one who drives us home. (It's hard to shift gears with a crutch.) My gall bladder's been malfunctioning for years as it's packed full with pebbles, but the attacks never lasted more than a half hour, so I would forget about it between times. After all, what's a few bouts in a year?

But this spring it gave me serious grief, lasted the whole damn day, and I spiked a fever, and that sure got me to the doctor, which got me into the specialist chute, and soon I saw the surgeon (he had a cancellation, so I slipped in early). He suggested that my gall bladder wasn't contributing anything it was supposed to contribute, because it was so full. I know when I had an ultrasound some years ago, I felt like a fraud. But the evidence is there, lots of stones.

Aand so I agreed it should go. That got me on the wait list for surgery. (I imagine a lot of people have emergency gall bladder surgery while they're on the wait list, because it's about six months.) I've been very careful about what I eat since then, because I know what usually sets it off, so it's been an all right wait, though it certainly interferes with forward thinking. I've felt it a few times though, just a hint, a reminder, which keeps me on my toes, metaphorically speaking. Most unpleasant. Nice by-product though: watching what I eat caused me to lose some weight, which has to help as there's less for the doc to dig through. And I like the view in the mirror better.

My body will have some adjusting to do after I subject it to this trauma, but I think it's probably smarter than waiting for when I'm even older, and it does become an emergency surgery, as that can be much more major. Right now it's a day-surgery, a procedure, in the pamphlet.

I'm grateful that I feel so healthy heading into this though. (Thanks to all that Grouse Grind hiking. It was so nice to have the trail stay open late this year.) Fingers crossed I bounce back fairly quickly. My crippled boyfriend is going to stay with me for a few days. We'll be quite the pair.