Saturday, January 25, 2014

"A Slow Return From The Edge Of The Earth



“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:

  1. Extreme chills, followed by hot flashes that soak one in sweat.
  2. Appetite loss
  3. Alteration in food taste.
  4. Pain in gums and teeth.
  5. Marked increase in all over body pain and discomfort.
  6. Inability to sleep, or to stay asleep.
  7. Mental cloudiness; memory loss.
  8. Mood swings
  9. Increased abdominal fat, or fat in male breast tissues (gynomasty) Also, a subsequent increase in the chance of male breast cancer.
  10. Loss of muscle strength and muscular tissue loss.
  11. Decreased bone density that can lead to osteoporosis, broken bones, or later rheumatoid arthritis.
  12. Loss of sexual interest or desire.
  13. 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:
  1. Extreme chills, followed by hot flashes that soak one in sweat.
  2. Appetite loss
  3. Alteration in food taste.
  4. Pain in gums and teeth.
  5. Marked increase in all over body pain and discomfort.
  6. Inability to sleep, or to stay asleep.
  7. Mental cloudiness; memory loss.
  8. Mood swings
  9. Increased abdominal fat, or fat in male breast tissues (gynomasty) Also, a subsequent increase in the chance of male breast cancer.
  10. Loss of muscle strength and muscular tissue loss.
  11. Decreased bone density that can lead to osteoporosis, broken bones, or later rheumatoid arthritis.
  12. Loss of sexual interest or desire.
  13. 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:
  1. Extreme chills, followed by hot flashes that soak one in sweat.
  2. Appetite loss
  3. Alteration in food taste.
  4. Pain in gums and teeth.
  5. Marked increase in all over body pain and discomfort.
  6. Inability to sleep, or to stay asleep.
  7. Mental cloudiness; memory loss.
  8. Mood swings
  9. Increased abdominal fat, or fat in male breast tissues (gynomasty) Also, a subsequent increase in the chance of male breast cancer.
  10. Loss of muscle strength and muscular tissue loss.
  11. Decreased bone density that can lead to osteoporosis, broken bones, or later rheumatoid arthritis.
  12. Loss of sexual interest or desire.
  13. 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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