Dad died 20 years ago and for about that long previously he suffered from arthritic joints in both legs.
He spent many days in a comfortable chair absorbing one adventure after another from National Geographic and several science-related magazines. His thirst for knowledge didn’t abate until near his death at 79.
He was among those sometime referred to as the Greatest Generation. He was born in 1918, less than two months before World War I ended, grew up in the ’20s, and matured in the 1930s before WWII came calling in 1942: “Your friends and neighbors request your presence …” the draft notice said.
He spent most of the war and a few months afterward in Europe, landing on Utah Beach during the Normandy Invasion. He trekked across France and arrived in Belgium for the Battle of the Bulge. His specialty was medicine, leading him to treat battlefield wounds.
Back home he hooked on at Monarch in Humboldt, raised me and sister Jenelle, and never admitted regret for not furthering his education with the GI Bill. His familial responsibilities came first.
Education was important, though. He encouraged Jenelle and I to do well in school, without being pushy, and often took correspondence courses himself, which eventually led to a supervisory position at the cement plant.
Doc Long — as everyone knew him — would stop by the house evenings to talk about patients, back when privacy issues weren’t an obstacle. Dad kept a copy of Grey’s Anatomy and a Physician’s Desk Reference handy. He may never have solved a case, but his discussions with Doc Long were a highlight.
Which takes me to the last 20 years of his life. For whatever reason he would not agree to have his joints examined, with replacement a possibility. “I know a guy who got a knee replaced and is much worse off,” he used as stock excuse. I don’t know if such procedures would have worked or not, but I do know he suffered for many years.
I now have encountered the same maladies.
But, with technology advances such as they have been, I’m not a bit reluctant to take advantage. I had my right hip replaced, and went from constant pain to none at all.
This coming week I will visit with an orthopedic surgeon about the other leg. I think it is the knee this time, but the hip also pains me at times.
I know in the 1990s Dad’s decision was common, but nowadays it is foolhardy not to take advantage of what medicine offers to curb pain and often remove it altogether.
Being able to walk without a pronounced limp is a dividend of huge proportions.
Don’t ignore pain, it is the body’s way of saying something is amiss.
