Why not laugh?

Yesterday morning, as planned I walked up to Davie Street for a haircut. I was cropped by a lovely platinum blond with a husky Russian accent who always flirts playfully with me and makes me feel like I am 22 again.

That being done I came home, did laundry and then went back up to the Clinic to get my latest BP results, bracing myself for yet another lab slip for a cholesterol test.

My doctor called me in, and to my surprise and relief had ordered the test from my previous blood sample and he informed me, “It’s very high”. This was what I had expected as the blood pressure too is still very high. He asked me if anyone in the family had heart problems, as these things can be hereditary. I said not that I know of, but it occurred to me later that mom died of a stroke, which is a kind of heart attack I guess.

I expressed my astonishment that my cholesterol could be so high given the shift in my diet over the past year but he told me it could be the body manufacturing it, a hereditary thing.

Then, in his inimitable fashion (he was present at the birth of Chaya 26 years ago and so we have got to know each other fairly well) he told me that the high cholesterol could be medically treated but that my health insurance would not cover it and what was the point if the Lymphoma was going to kill me anyway.

He said this with one of his sly, impish smiles and we both laughed at the comment. I don’t care what the prognosis is, that is good medicine from my perspective.

He has doubled my daily dose of Ramipril (from 5 to 10 mg), but other than that there were no further tests ordered, thank God. Also, I have a few weeks before my next visit as he re-proscribed the higher dose for me.

Back home, I decided to take advantage of the sunny afternoon, which had come as a surprise after the muggy cold morning and so strolled down to Sunset Beach for a seawall walk.

There, paused beside a park bench was a familiar figure in plaid jacket, plaid pants and Mao cap, adjusting his digital camera. It was my friend David, out on one of his photo shoots gathering clips for another video I guessed.

So that he couldn’t spot me (I knew he had buzzed my apartment earlier, as he always does when in the area) I made my way down the grassy slope out of his view, and stalked up behind him.

He had already started to walk westward and so I fell into step behind and spoke loudly, “The carver, armed with the tools of his trade, proceeds westward along the seawall.” I could see him momentarily stiffen and then turn to see what manner of tormenting creature had stumbled into his wake. I think he was expecting the worst.

Later he told me when he heard the voice he said to himself, “David, that’s what you get for coming to the West End.”

When he saw me, his frown lightened into a wide smile.

So we had a great slow walk and philosophical talk as we always do, all the way to 2nd Beach and back. It was one of those pristine and serene afternoons where there is barely a breath of wind and the water is like rippled glass.

We admired and commented on the beauty of the scenery surrounding us, and like the 2 old rogues that we are (I can hear him saying, “Speak for yourself Baba”), the beauty of the beauties walking and jogging past with their non-stop motion dancers bodies.

I told him what the doctor had told me earlier and we laughed about that too. Why not laugh? We are all on the same journey, with it’s ultimate destination and portal into who knows what! And for me the trip has been so amazing that I can’t help but be grateful and thankful.

In many ways I feel that my journey is only just beginning.