“A
Slow Return From The Edge Of The Earth”
01/25/14
To
my kind and dearest friends, and always loyal readers,
This is one of the most difficult entries that I
have ever made, but I solemnly promised that I would never lie to you, nor bend
the truth to suit my own agendas.
But the elusiveness of truth, and of warranted trust
are never easy to establish, but can be readily destroyed by even one,
ill-composed remark.
And so I ask—please—for your most kind forgiveness,
and my heart of hearts silently hopes to be welcomed back once again, and to
merit your most thoughtful comments below.
‘Andropause:
A Terrible And Terrifying Reality”
Shortly after my last MDJ diary post, November 4th
of last year, I found myself becoming more detached, more self-isolative, and
mentally and physically withdrawing from the coming holidays, which rushed—inexorably—ever
closer, like trains cars hooked-together, but of a train that was completely
out of control. And I felt as if I had been tied-down to the tracks, unable to
escape, able only to hear that far-off whistle, and feel the ever so gentle
rumbling of the rails as the train approached and gathered speed.
For probably the last twenty-one years, Thanksgiving,
Christmas, New Year’s and…,my birthday had long ceased to have much meaning for
me other than I knew that on those days, the banks would be closed, and no mail
delivered.
There was my father’s lingering illness and pain,
and then my mother’s, and the holidays seemed—in particular—to be marked by
illness, pain, disaster, embarrassment, loss of dignity and an overwhelming
sadness
In those days—when I was still employed—I would give
the holiday, ‘eves’, to this of that coworker who had children, and, with the,
could still capture some of the magic (amid the mayhem of Black Friday
shopping) with their young families.
With Daisy gone, I was fully resigned to spend the
holidays by myself in perhaps a quiet, and reflective meditation regarding the unpredictable
vagaries of ‘Life’.
As is my habit, my sense of plangent loneliness,
and, ‘alone-ness’ (there is a difference) caused me to become even more
depressed, and in often unutterable pain that made me cry.
I now have ‘new’ neighbors across the street for me
who have been inordinately kind and considerate of me.
It was they who invited me over to their house for
Thanksgiving Day lunch.
And for once, I put on my best clothes, and with
cane and oxygen, was helped across the street.
Though my agoraphobia prevented me from dawdling-away
the afternoon, still, I viewed it as nothing less than miracle.
It was just before this time, that my cousin finally
was able to figure out that Microsoft had sent an update that completely
blocked my access to my diary at MDJ, and—in fact—treated the site as spam, or
a ‘pop up’, ot be blocked.
So it will be interesting to see whether I can
somehow slip this diary entry in.
My therapist—meanwhile—had switched my
antidepressant medication from Cymbalta to Pristiq (a new ‘kid’ on the market;
one that augured better results, with little side effects).
But, after taking it for a month 9with no apparent
good effect, my therapist increased the dosage from 50 mg. to 100 mg. And still I continued to be massively
depressed.
Slowly, other symptoms began to emerge; I would have
bone-chattering chills in which my hands and feet froze, to hot flashes that drenched
me in waves of perspiration, with sweat soaking though all of my clothes, and
bed linens.
And while I almost thought it impossible, I began to
have whole body pain that eclipsed even my usual incapacitating agony.
Before I had a pain that often made me cry.
Now, I had all-over body pains that caused me to become
afraid.
Imagine, if you will, having strapped to one’s back,
a tortoise shell lined with jagged and rusty knives.
Of, of an abdomen that hurt from hip to hip.
This was a new level of pain that—finally—I could
not bear. I over-took my pain
medications, and—indeed—anything that might promise some analgesic relief:
ibuprophen, tramadol, xanaflex…whatever I could lay my shaking hands to.
Despite taking melatonin, Benadryl, and two sleeping
pills, my sleep was broken up in passages lasting only minutes long. I had every nightmare I thought imaginable,
and I was exhausted all of the time, wanting only to ever stay in bed.
My gums and teeth become so sore that chewing
induced pain. Even the taste of food
lost its flavor, and I became quite indifferent to meals.
Were it not for my again kind neighbor bring a
little supper to me (for which I am still grateful!), I would have lost more
weight than I suppose I did.
Gradually I weakened, and everything just seemed
too, too much to do.
Then…the cognitive problems began.
I lost words; their spellings and meanings. My short-term memory dropped out from under
me, and in a conversation with my cousin—for example—he would have completed
his third or fourth sentence before I could remember the vague contents of sentence
one.
I would enter a room looking for something; but by
the time I had crossed the threshold, I would forget why I was there.
Granted, some of these things may be silly, but when
profound, are most frightening.
Actually, it was those intolerable hot flashes that
provided an answer.
Surely, I thought, this sound almost exactly like ‘menopause’,
and so, I requested information on male, testosterone depletion.
When I read it, I was flabbergasted, as I met almost
every single sign of testosterone depletion.
When I asked my Primary to have the assay done, she
told me to not expect too much, but that something else was causing my
distress.
The results (when they finally came in) were
startling; for males ages 45-60, the ‘normal’ scale of the hormone was
380-1,000. Mine was 27. Which meant that for some time, my body had
been making no free testosterone.
Thankfully my Primary is quick to act, and for the
past, two weeks, I have been taking testosterone replacement therapy every
morning, at about the same time each morning (which is important). My therapy
consists of a transdermal gel I apply to both shoulders and upper arms.
It has to be rubbed in until it is dry. Then one should wash one’s hands as the
transdermal gel will seep-through the skin on the hands.
I then don a clean T-shirt with short sleeves to
cover the applied area. Ostensibly, this
is to keep it from exposure to sun, and other elements.
And while my Primary said that I should notice a
positive effect within a month, I noticed a change in my pain level after the
very first application; as a caveat, some of this pain relief might be also
attributed to wishful thinking, or, to a placebo effect.
Frankly, my dearest friends, I don’t care. Considering the pain that I am in, if
standing on my head for ten minutes a day would help, I’d be trying to stand on
my head for twenty minutes every day.
Yet, I do believe that it is the replacement gel
that has caused me to feel a great deal better.
In males, here are some of the sings of Testosterone
deficiency:
- Extreme chills, followed by hot flashes that soak one in sweat.
- Appetite loss
- Alteration in food taste.
- Pain in gums and teeth.
- Marked increase in all over body pain and discomfort.
- Inability to sleep, or to stay asleep.
- Mental cloudiness; memory loss.
- Mood swings
- Increased abdominal fat, or fat in male breast tissues (gynomasty) Also, a subsequent increase in the chance of male breast cancer.
- Loss of muscle strength and muscular tissue loss.
- Decreased bone density that can lead to osteoporosis, broken bones, or later rheumatoid arthritis.
- Loss of sexual interest or desire.
- A possible decrease in genital size.
While some Testosterone loss is normal in aging
males, a value as low as mine is critically symptomatic.
If you are a male reader, or have males in your
lives who are 45 years old or older, and who evidence ANY of these warning
symptoms, I urge you to please, please have the Testosterone Assay done. The replacement therapy—while it can be
costly, depending upon one’s insurance—works well, and has helped me to feel
much, much better, and to develop new interests such as container gardening for
my back deck!
As
I hope to continue to feel better (and my compute allows it!), I want to resume
posting diary entries here in hopes of reading your ever kind and thoughtful
comments.
Please
know—despite my absence—that I do think of you often, and that I love you
dearly!
‘Zahc’
“A
Slow Return From The Edge Of The Earth”
01/25/14
To
my kind and dearest friends, and always loyal readers,
This is one of the most difficult entries that I
have ever made, but I solemnly promised that I would never lie to you, nor bend
the truth to suit my own agendas.
But the elusiveness of truth, and of warranted trust
are never easy to establish, but can be readily destroyed by even one,
ill-composed remark.
And so I ask—please—for your most kind forgiveness,
and my heart of hearts silently hopes to be welcomed back once again, and to
merit your most thoughtful comments below.
‘Andropause:
A Terrible And Terrifying Reality”
Shortly after my last MDJ diary post, November 4th
of last year, I found myself becoming more detached, more self-isolative, and
mentally and physically withdrawing from the coming holidays, which rushed—inexorably—ever
closer, like trains cars hooked-together, but of a train that was completely
out of control. And I felt as if I had been tied-down to the tracks, unable to
escape, able only to hear that far-off whistle, and feel the ever so gentle
rumbling of the rails as the train approached and gathered speed.
For probably the last twenty-one years, Thanksgiving,
Christmas, New Year’s and…,my birthday had long ceased to have much meaning for
me other than I knew that on those days, the banks would be closed, and no mail
delivered.
There was my father’s lingering illness and pain,
and then my mother’s, and the holidays seemed—in particular—to be marked by
illness, pain, disaster, embarrassment, loss of dignity and an overwhelming
sadness
In those days—when I was still employed—I would give
the holiday, ‘eves’, to this of that coworker who had children, and, with the,
could still capture some of the magic (amid the mayhem of Black Friday
shopping) with their young families.
With Daisy gone, I was fully resigned to spend the
holidays by myself in perhaps a quiet, and reflective meditation regarding the unpredictable
vagaries of ‘Life’.
As is my habit, my sense of plangent loneliness,
and, ‘alone-ness’ (there is a difference) caused me to become even more
depressed, and in often unutterable pain that made me cry.
I now have ‘new’ neighbors across the street for me
who have been inordinately kind and considerate of me.
It was they who invited me over to their house for
Thanksgiving Day lunch.
And for once, I put on my best clothes, and with
cane and oxygen, was helped across the street.
Though my agoraphobia prevented me from dawdling-away
the afternoon, still, I viewed it as nothing less than miracle.
It was just before this time, that my cousin finally
was able to figure out that Microsoft had sent an update that completely
blocked my access to my diary at MDJ, and—in fact—treated the site as spam, or
a ‘pop up’, ot be blocked.
So it will be interesting to see whether I can
somehow slip this diary entry in.
My therapist—meanwhile—had switched my
antidepressant medication from Cymbalta to Pristiq (a new ‘kid’ on the market;
one that augured better results, with little side effects).
But, after taking it for a month 9with no apparent
good effect, my therapist increased the dosage from 50 mg. to 100 mg. And still I continued to be massively
depressed.
Slowly, other symptoms began to emerge; I would have
bone-chattering chills in which my hands and feet froze, to hot flashes that drenched
me in waves of perspiration, with sweat soaking though all of my clothes, and
bed linens.
And while I almost thought it impossible, I began to
have whole body pain that eclipsed even my usual incapacitating agony.
Before I had a pain that often made me cry.
Now, I had all-over body pains that caused me to become
afraid.
Imagine, if you will, having strapped to one’s back,
a tortoise shell lined with jagged and rusty knives.
Of, of an abdomen that hurt from hip to hip.
This was a new level of pain that—finally—I could
not bear. I over-took my pain
medications, and—indeed—anything that might promise some analgesic relief:
ibuprophen, tramadol, xanaflex…whatever I could lay my shaking hands to.
Despite taking melatonin, Benadryl, and two sleeping
pills, my sleep was broken up in passages lasting only minutes long. I had every nightmare I thought imaginable,
and I was exhausted all of the time, wanting only to ever stay in bed.
My gums and teeth become so sore that chewing
induced pain. Even the taste of food
lost its flavor, and I became quite indifferent to meals.
Were it not for my again kind neighbor bring a
little supper to me (for which I am still grateful!), I would have lost more
weight than I suppose I did.
Gradually I weakened, and everything just seemed
too, too much to do.
Then…the cognitive problems began.
I lost words; their spellings and meanings. My short-term memory dropped out from under
me, and in a conversation with my cousin—for example—he would have completed
his third or fourth sentence before I could remember the vague contents of sentence
one.
I would enter a room looking for something; but by
the time I had crossed the threshold, I would forget why I was there.
Granted, some of these things may be silly, but when
profound, are most frightening.
Actually, it was those intolerable hot flashes that
provided an answer.
Surely, I thought, this sound almost exactly like ‘menopause’,
and so, I requested information on male, testosterone depletion.
When I read it, I was flabbergasted, as I met almost
every single sign of testosterone depletion.
When I asked my Primary to have the assay done, she
told me to not expect too much, but that something else was causing my
distress.
The results (when they finally came in) were
startling; for males ages 45-60, the ‘normal’ scale of the hormone was
380-1,000. Mine was 27. Which meant that for some time, my body had
been making no free testosterone.
Thankfully my Primary is quick to act, and for the
past, two weeks, I have been taking testosterone replacement therapy every
morning, at about the same time each morning (which is important). My therapy
consists of a transdermal gel I apply to both shoulders and upper arms.
It has to be rubbed in until it is dry. Then one should wash one’s hands as the
transdermal gel will seep-through the skin on the hands.
I then don a clean T-shirt with short sleeves to
cover the applied area. Ostensibly, this
is to keep it from exposure to sun, and other elements.
And while my Primary said that I should notice a
positive effect within a month, I noticed a change in my pain level after the
very first application; as a caveat, some of this pain relief might be also
attributed to wishful thinking, or, to a placebo effect.
Frankly, my dearest friends, I don’t care. Considering the pain that I am in, if
standing on my head for ten minutes a day would help, I’d be trying to stand on
my head for twenty minutes every day.
Yet, I do believe that it is the replacement gel
that has caused me to feel a great deal better.
In males, here are some of the sings of Testosterone
deficiency:
- Extreme chills, followed by hot flashes that soak one in sweat.
- Appetite loss
- Alteration in food taste.
- Pain in gums and teeth.
- Marked increase in all over body pain and discomfort.
- Inability to sleep, or to stay asleep.
- Mental cloudiness; memory loss.
- Mood swings
- Increased abdominal fat, or fat in male breast tissues (gynomasty) Also, a subsequent increase in the chance of male breast cancer.
- Loss of muscle strength and muscular tissue loss.
- Decreased bone density that can lead to osteoporosis, broken bones, or later rheumatoid arthritis.
- Loss of sexual interest or desire.
- A possible decrease in genital size.
While some Testosterone loss is normal in aging
males, a value as low as mine is critically symptomatic.
If you are a male reader, or have males in your
lives who are 45 years old or older, and who evidence ANY of these warning
symptoms, I urge you to please, please have the Testosterone Assay done. The replacement therapy—while it can be
costly, depending upon one’s insurance—works well, and has helped me to feel
much, much better, and to develop new interests such as container gardening for
my back deck!
As
I hope to continue to feel better (and my compute allows it!), I want to resume
posting diary entries here in hopes of reading your ever kind and thoughtful
comments.
Please
know—despite my absence—that I do think of you often, and that I love you
dearly!
‘Zahc’
“A
Slow Return From The Edge Of The Earth”
01/25/14
To
my kind and dearest friends, and always loyal readers,
This is one of the most difficult entries that I
have ever made, but I solemnly promised that I would never lie to you, nor bend
the truth to suit my own agendas.
But the elusiveness of truth, and of warranted trust
are never easy to establish, but can be readily destroyed by even one,
ill-composed remark.
And so I ask—please—for your most kind forgiveness,
and my heart of hearts silently hopes to be welcomed back once again, and to
merit your most thoughtful comments below.
‘Andropause:
A Terrible And Terrifying Reality”
Shortly after my last MDJ diary post, November 4th
of last year, I found myself becoming more detached, more self-isolative, and
mentally and physically withdrawing from the coming holidays, which rushed—inexorably—ever
closer, like trains cars hooked-together, but of a train that was completely
out of control. And I felt as if I had been tied-down to the tracks, unable to
escape, able only to hear that far-off whistle, and feel the ever so gentle
rumbling of the rails as the train approached and gathered speed.
For probably the last twenty-one years, Thanksgiving,
Christmas, New Year’s and…,my birthday had long ceased to have much meaning for
me other than I knew that on those days, the banks would be closed, and no mail
delivered.
There was my father’s lingering illness and pain,
and then my mother’s, and the holidays seemed—in particular—to be marked by
illness, pain, disaster, embarrassment, loss of dignity and an overwhelming
sadness
In those days—when I was still employed—I would give
the holiday, ‘eves’, to this of that coworker who had children, and, with the,
could still capture some of the magic (amid the mayhem of Black Friday
shopping) with their young families.
With Daisy gone, I was fully resigned to spend the
holidays by myself in perhaps a quiet, and reflective meditation regarding the unpredictable
vagaries of ‘Life’.
As is my habit, my sense of plangent loneliness,
and, ‘alone-ness’ (there is a difference) caused me to become even more
depressed, and in often unutterable pain that made me cry.
I now have ‘new’ neighbors across the street for me
who have been inordinately kind and considerate of me.
It was they who invited me over to their house for
Thanksgiving Day lunch.
And for once, I put on my best clothes, and with
cane and oxygen, was helped across the street.
Though my agoraphobia prevented me from dawdling-away
the afternoon, still, I viewed it as nothing less than miracle.
It was just before this time, that my cousin finally
was able to figure out that Microsoft had sent an update that completely
blocked my access to my diary at MDJ, and—in fact—treated the site as spam, or
a ‘pop up’, ot be blocked.
So it will be interesting to see whether I can
somehow slip this diary entry in.
My therapist—meanwhile—had switched my
antidepressant medication from Cymbalta to Pristiq (a new ‘kid’ on the market;
one that augured better results, with little side effects).
But, after taking it for a month 9with no apparent
good effect, my therapist increased the dosage from 50 mg. to 100 mg. And still I continued to be massively
depressed.
Slowly, other symptoms began to emerge; I would have
bone-chattering chills in which my hands and feet froze, to hot flashes that drenched
me in waves of perspiration, with sweat soaking though all of my clothes, and
bed linens.
And while I almost thought it impossible, I began to
have whole body pain that eclipsed even my usual incapacitating agony.
Before I had a pain that often made me cry.
Now, I had all-over body pains that caused me to become
afraid.
Imagine, if you will, having strapped to one’s back,
a tortoise shell lined with jagged and rusty knives.
Of, of an abdomen that hurt from hip to hip.
This was a new level of pain that—finally—I could
not bear. I over-took my pain
medications, and—indeed—anything that might promise some analgesic relief:
ibuprophen, tramadol, xanaflex…whatever I could lay my shaking hands to.
Despite taking melatonin, Benadryl, and two sleeping
pills, my sleep was broken up in passages lasting only minutes long. I had every nightmare I thought imaginable,
and I was exhausted all of the time, wanting only to ever stay in bed.
My gums and teeth become so sore that chewing
induced pain. Even the taste of food
lost its flavor, and I became quite indifferent to meals.
Were it not for my again kind neighbor bring a
little supper to me (for which I am still grateful!), I would have lost more
weight than I suppose I did.
Gradually I weakened, and everything just seemed
too, too much to do.
Then…the cognitive problems began.
I lost words; their spellings and meanings. My short-term memory dropped out from under
me, and in a conversation with my cousin—for example—he would have completed
his third or fourth sentence before I could remember the vague contents of sentence
one.
I would enter a room looking for something; but by
the time I had crossed the threshold, I would forget why I was there.
Granted, some of these things may be silly, but when
profound, are most frightening.
Actually, it was those intolerable hot flashes that
provided an answer.
Surely, I thought, this sound almost exactly like ‘menopause’,
and so, I requested information on male, testosterone depletion.
When I read it, I was flabbergasted, as I met almost
every single sign of testosterone depletion.
When I asked my Primary to have the assay done, she
told me to not expect too much, but that something else was causing my
distress.
The results (when they finally came in) were
startling; for males ages 45-60, the ‘normal’ scale of the hormone was
380-1,000. Mine was 27. Which meant that for some time, my body had
been making no free testosterone.
Thankfully my Primary is quick to act, and for the
past, two weeks, I have been taking testosterone replacement therapy every
morning, at about the same time each morning (which is important). My therapy
consists of a transdermal gel I apply to both shoulders and upper arms.
It has to be rubbed in until it is dry. Then one should wash one’s hands as the
transdermal gel will seep-through the skin on the hands.
I then don a clean T-shirt with short sleeves to
cover the applied area. Ostensibly, this
is to keep it from exposure to sun, and other elements.
And while my Primary said that I should notice a
positive effect within a month, I noticed a change in my pain level after the
very first application; as a caveat, some of this pain relief might be also
attributed to wishful thinking, or, to a placebo effect.
Frankly, my dearest friends, I don’t care. Considering the pain that I am in, if
standing on my head for ten minutes a day would help, I’d be trying to stand on
my head for twenty minutes every day.
Yet, I do believe that it is the replacement gel
that has caused me to feel a great deal better.
In males, here are some of the sings of Testosterone
deficiency:
- Extreme chills, followed by hot flashes that soak one in sweat.
- Appetite loss
- Alteration in food taste.
- Pain in gums and teeth.
- Marked increase in all over body pain and discomfort.
- Inability to sleep, or to stay asleep.
- Mental cloudiness; memory loss.
- Mood swings
- Increased abdominal fat, or fat in male breast tissues (gynomasty) Also, a subsequent increase in the chance of male breast cancer.
- Loss of muscle strength and muscular tissue loss.
- Decreased bone density that can lead to osteoporosis, broken bones, or later rheumatoid arthritis.
- Loss of sexual interest or desire.
- A possible decrease in genital size.
While some Testosterone loss is normal in aging
males, a value as low as mine is critically symptomatic.
If you are a male reader, or have males in your
lives who are 45 years old or older, and who evidence ANY of these warning
symptoms, I urge you to please, please have the Testosterone Assay done. The replacement therapy—while it can be
costly, depending upon one’s insurance—works well, and has helped me to feel
much, much better, and to develop new interests such as container gardening for
my back deck!
As
I hope to continue to feel better (and my compute allows it!), I want to resume
posting diary entries here in hopes of reading your ever kind and thoughtful
comments.
Please
know—despite my absence—that I do think of you often, and that I love you
dearly!
‘Zahc’
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