Roger Zee Memoirs
Health 4 12/02/20
How fitting that on my Mom's birthday, I start reminiscing about serious health stuff. Both she and my Dad died from multiple Cancers as well as Tuberculosis. While my Mom retained her mental clarity to the very end, my Dad lapsed into Dementia during his last ten years in a nursing home in Long Island right across from "The Miracle Mile," America's first shopping mall. He wore diapers, spent all his time chasing after every woman on his floor and eventually couldn't even speak! Welcome to the latest excerpt from my memoirs, "Life And Times of a Pandemic Musician." B-|
Moving ahead, once again issues started popping up on my annual physicals -- when I actually gained insurance and scheduled them, LOL! At one point, I left a steady computer programming job to work as a consultant in order make significantly more money. Knowing that I would lose my health insurance, I scheduled visits with a bunch of doctors while I could. First stop, the dermatologist! ^_^
You will seldom see anyone paler than moi, a White Russian! But growing up in the 50's and 60's, a deep tan meant everything! My Mom used to lay outdoors with a large sun reflector after applying Crisco to her entire body. I never went that far. But I also never tanned without first getting a vicious sunburn followed by violent peeling. As a shy, skinny marink desperate to impress, I put my head down and persevered! Though I eventually got a nice, brown tan, I paid a large price. As I aged, I began to speckle and splotch, even developing raised blemishes. After seeing a dermatologist recommended by my GP's office, he found a suspicious mole on my right temple and removed it on a return visit. Why do a five minute procedure on the spot when you can charge more for an extra visit? Health Care 101! ;)
But years later, that mole reappeared. I'd run my fingers over it at work and it felt like Velcro! So I arranged to get it checked out. My dermatologist, who I will see next week, didn't like the look of it and took a small biopsy. It came back as basal cell carcinoma. So he recommended the plastic surgeon down the hall from him to remove it. Everything went downhill from there... :(
Dr. M. seemed nice enough but specialized in breast augmentation! He explained that he wanted to do the removal in two steps. First he needed to do a larger biopsy in order to find out the margins of the tumor. So we went ahead with that and of course, the cancerous area turned out bigger than originally thought, though still basal cell carcinoma. I returned in about a week when he removed the few stitches and set up an appointment to remove the whole thing. :)
The procedure went well. He shot up the area with local anesthetic, cut out a horizontal piece about an inch long and 1/4 inch high, then stitched it up. Afterwards he explained that he took out a bigger section than initially anticipated due to what he found. It's all about the "margins." At that time, my girlfriend Nina had moved in with me and she helped clean the wound. Unfortunately, it bled longer and more than anticipated. I felt antsy about engaging in sex. So I went in for Dr. M. to check it out and he assured me that it looked fine. And oh, by the way, the biopsy report came in and they found Melanoma, the worst kind of skin cancer! The good news, he got it all with safe margins. The bad news, it ended up infected, and left a concave 1 X 1/2 inch hairless dent in my head. So after using a Boob doctor instead of letting the dermatologist handle it, I turned out the Boob! ;)
It seemed that living with Nina brought me bad luck. The fire that ignited our great sex life (up to four times a day) also made living together very difficult! We always managed to set each other off, especially when I drank Vodka. Which I began do to more and more. That behavior actually started when my marriage started to dissolve and then slowly accelerated. As I came to learn, Vodka's the liquor of choice for alcoholics. The good stuff leaves no smell on your breath! I found that out the hard way after sipping some dark rum before going over to do my laundry at my aunt Arline's house in Teaneck, NJ. First thing out of her mouth, "Have you been drinking?" Lesson learned, LOL! ;)
The thing with Nina, once I pushed the button that got her started, I couldn't stop it. When that train left the station, it accelerated like a runaway! She would begin yelling, then gradually build up to screaming, cursing, and even physically attacking me. At some point, the neighbors would pound on the ceiling or even knock on our door. I would try to calm her down by hugging her, whispering in her ear, and kissing her. But usually I just had to leave the apartment for her to calm down. On that particular day, I started drinking early. Big mistake! After the eruption, I finished my bottle of Vodka and headed out in my sneakers in a huge blizzard down the street to the liquor store. Half way there, I slipped and fell, ripping up both my pants and knees. I managed to forge through. But on the way back, going up the metal and concrete stairs in my building, I slipped and fell, breaking the pinky finger on my right hand. :'O
For multiple reasons, I couldn't go to the emergency rooms. As a matter of fact, the "King of Denial" never even got it looked at. The pinky healed crooked. But that's not the worst part. Attempting to rehab it on my own, I ended up generating Dupuytren's disease. Maybe you've seen quarterback Brett Favre's commercial about it on TV. A tendon in your hand contracts over a period of time so that you can't open open it. I eventually visited two surgeons who both told me they could not help. So that's when I switched to playing the bass with my thumb. I knew I would eventually lose the use of my right-hand middle and ring and finger. But looking on the bright side, it gave my bass playing a unique sound, one that separated me from the crowd -- sort of a bass version of Wes Montgomery, LOL! ^_^
A few months later, the building Super came up and warned that the neighbors kept complaining about our loudness. I started worrying that someone would call the police and I'd get hauled off to jail. Men never fare well in these situations... So I took action. Nina had just left her job at a Nissan car dealership and had no income. So we made a deal. I would keep the sofa she brought with her and in return, I would give her five thousand dollars to move out and start a new life. Absolutely one of the very lowest times in my life. And it drove me deeper into the bottle! :-(
So today as I learn on Facebook that even more of my Jam Family caught Covid-19, I meticulously avoid listening to the news in order to maintain my sanity. But I eventually give into overwhelming sadness, pick up my Mexican Fender Jazz Bass, and once again pore over the bottom-line parts to Dave Mason's epic, debut solo album, "Alone Together." One <3
YouTube - Sad and Deep as You - Dave Mason
©2020 Roger Zee