The Perfect Prescription

July 14, 2021 By Scott "Q" Marcus

I don’t like going to the doctor.

It’s not that I don’t like my doctor; he’s great. It’s that it puts my impermanence on full display, stripping away the denial of immortality; even when it’s simply a routine checkup. Something about being in a medical office raises my blood pressure as well as fear level.

“How are you feeling?”
“You’re the doctor; wouldn’t it be up to you to tell me?”

He chuckled an inner warmth that blended well with his extensive knowledge. As I said, I like my doctor. In a time where the medical providers are overworked and under-appreciated, rushing here to there to accomplish everything required of them, he always appeared totally attentive during the short time we spent together once a year.

“Are you exercising?”
“Yes, I walk about 30 minutes at least five times a week – plus I take my dog out each day. That’s not really exercise because we have to stop and pee at every bush we pass.” I paused, then corrected, “Well, it’s not WE to have to stop and pee; it’s him. Just clarifying…”

He smiled again.

“Your blood tests all show that everything is as it’s supposed to be. You’re a healthy man.” He paused. “So, how’s your life?”

The question knocked me on my heels for a brief flash; not a query I expected from an MD, but, when you think about it, it makes perfect sense. One cannot heal the body while ignoring the mind and spirit. As I took a mental inventory of “how is my life,” I opened up about the waning days of my career, my aspiring spirituality, family drama, life goals, and the passing of years in general.

Says singer/songwriter John Mellencamp in The Real Life: [Read more…]

Seeing Clearly

May 12, 2021 By Scott "Q" Marcus

I am nearsighted.

Not your everyday, run-of-the-mill, I-can’t-see-the-bottom-line-on-the-eye-chart nearsighted; I instead am referring to objects further than six inches away appearing as a blurry mass. From the moment I rise until the last second before I go to bed, I must wear glasses. Should they fall and I can’t immediately find them, panic crushes me until I recover them. Without them, I am virtually blind. They feel as much a part of me as — quite literally — the nose on my face. I am fortunate however that my prescription allows correction to near perfection.

So, I became concerned when, of late, looking at light on dark, I have been experiencing “halos.”

Two examples: When the subtitles on the movie are white against black, the text is blurry. More problematic, when driving at night, although I can see clearly cars, roads, and signs; taillights and street lights lack the same crispness. It’s unnerving enough that I stopped going out after dark.

My father was a hypochondriac’s hypochondriac; he would solicit a second medical opinion when the doctor told him he was healthy. I don’t mean to make light of it; I point it out to somewhat explain my resistance to going to doctors; an irrational backlash to not being my dad. Therefore, for me to visit an eye specialist over my symptoms will shed some light (um, no pun intended) on how seriously I took this change in my vision and resultant alteration to my lifestyle.

If this scenario sounds familiar, you know where I’m going. If not, the cause of my optical degradation is cataracts. According to the Mayo Clinic, “A cataract is a clouding of the normally clear lens of your eye. For people who have cataracts, seeing through cloudy lenses is a bit like looking through a frosty or fogged-up window. Clouded vision caused by cataracts can make it more difficult to read, drive a car (especially at night) or see the expression on a friend’s face.” Approximately 200,000 people per year in the U.S. suffer from them.

This week was my pre-op appointment.

[Read more…]

Celebrating Tough Times

January 27, 2021 By Scott "Q" Marcus

I can’t remember times as difficult as these, and I’ve been around the sun a few dozen times.

I — as well as you if you’re over 65 — am closer to the age of 100 than to the age of 30.

That is a truly remarkable thought when you let it sink in. I mean, remember, we were told not to trust anyone over 30 because they were “over the hill.” Looking at it through the eyes of immortal teens, 30 just seemed so, well, “old.” Of course, that decade flashed by in an instant, and at 40, we started to feel like grown-ups. Then, came the fifties, bifocals, a slightly expanded paunch, planning for retirement, and adult children (who were also fearing 30). Before you could say “I can now take money from my IRA without penalty,” the sixties knocked on the door.

It is the cycle of life. Despite magical thinking and a healthy dose of denial, to all, it finds its way.

Yet, again, as I’m sure for you too, aging doesn’t mean I’m going to curl up in a ball and wait for the grim reaper to knock on my door. I’m still vital and active. I still have dreams. After COVID has become a thing of the past, I will be on the road again, radio blasting, singing to my old faves as I head down that long ribbon of highway, hugging and visiting the people and places I’ve so missed.

As far as I know, I’ve still got several years ahead of me, so I’m back in school, studying a philosophy most of us equate with the “Law of Attraction.”

As a requirement for the class, we are required to journal regularly; something I’ve never done consistently.

Don’t misunderstand. I obviously like writing; this column in many ways is somewhat of a public journal. What holds me back is that I don’t like to write with a pen on paper. My mom wanted me to be a doctor; I learned to write as sloppily as one, but that’s as far as I got. So, to that end, if I record my thoughts in a journal, I won’t be able to decipher my hen scratches when I want to read them. I simply write too quickly, as I’m trying to keep up with my brain, which goes into overdrive. Should I slow down, while I’d be able to read it, my thoughts would evaporate before they got to paper; an empty journal is tragic.

Moreover, what happens if I have a life-changing revelation and my diary is not with me? Future generations will be deprived of my brilliance because I left my journal at home. How horrible would that be!

So, the obvious solution for a perfectionist like me who cannot do it perfectly? Don’t write.

Of late, however, I discovered the glories of an electronic journal, Day One, which syncs to all my mobile devices, computer, and even my watch. It allows me to record and tag my thoughts at any time, automatically logging the date, time, location, and even the weather at that moment. I can attach photos or images should I so choose.

One literally thought-provoking built-in feature is it asks a daily question, ranging from “what is your dream chocolate bar?” to “what happens when you die?” [Read more…]

Wisdom from my Hearing Aid

August 19, 2020 By Scott "Q" Marcus

“Did you know that approximately one-third of all folks your age suffers from hearing loss?”

“What?”

Okay, before you jump on me for being insensitive to those who are hearing impaired, I am one of that one in three.

I also suffer from Tinnitus, which is described as a non-stop ringing in the ears. For me, it’s not a ringing; rather I live in my own private wind storm; there’s a constant hiss that serves as the soundtrack of my life. At times it’s a whisper, sometimes it’s a gale, yet it’s unrelenting. Most likely it’s the result of being a rock ‘n’ roll disc jockey from my teens into my thirties. Regrettably, it matters not how I contracted it, it makes itself known from the moment I rise until I fall asleep.

I thought that the unending whisper that accompanied me 24/7 was normal until I heard a public service announcement about it, raising my consciousness to its existence. Turning to my wife, I asked, “What do you hear when it’s silent?”

She looked at me as if I had two noses, perplexed,

“What do you mean, what do I hear when it’s silent? It’s silent. I don’t hear anything.”

“You don’t hear a hiss?”

“No, I don’t hear anything.”

Henceforth, I realized this was not the norm and began pursuing options to rid myself of it.

Although one will see ads for cures on social media and some experts claim that everything from Paxil to microdoses of LSD will alleviate the problem, there is no cure except patience and habituation, just getting used to it.

Once I became aware of my hearing issues, I also realized that I had to turn up the television to a deafening level, needed closed captions to follow the dialog, and annoyed the hell out of my life-partner by repeatedly asking her to speak up. Although vanity delayed me from seeking help, I finally decided that hearing better beat out the need to deny my aging and I was fitted for hearing aids.

They’re not your grandfather’s hearing aids.

[Read more…]

This is Our Life

February 20, 2020 By Scott "Q" Marcus

Right now, where are you as you’re reading this?

Are you on-line, looking for something to share with friends on your social media stream? Are you leaning over a kitchen counter, using the newspaper as a distraction while you hastily throw food into your belly while on a break between chores? Are you in the employee lounge at work scanning the newspaper that a co-worker abandoned on a table, and you came across this piece? Or maybe, sitting with a cup of coffee on the couch on a Sunday morning is part of your regular routine?

Wherever you are, whatever you’re doing, stop for a moment and absorb what’s happening around you (don’t worry I’ll be here when you return). Stand or sit up straight, adjust your posture so your shoulders are back, your head is held high, and your chest expands. Then, take a deep, deep, deep breath and then slowly let it out, releasing any tension you might or might not even realize you’re holding.

Cease all the hub-bub, self-flagellation, to-do lists, and mental noise for just a smidge of an instant and give to yourself the gift of simply “being.”

This moment, in this place, at this time, is your life. It is not lamenting dreams you didn’t accomplish or plans for the future. It is not an inventory of promises unfulfilled. It is not how much – or how little – money is in your account. It is a parade of ephemeral, fleeting moments passing into history, an everlasting mental train of thoughts and observations traveling from today to yesterday.

THIS moment — this NOW — is your life.

What prompted me to wax so philosophically (aside from the fact that I’m incredibly philosophical, insightful, introspective man, of course) started unexpectedly enough, when our washing machine exploded.

Don’t picture a Michael Bay movie; my wife and I leaping to safety in a slo-mo scene as flames burst forth from the Maytag behind us. It was a whimper more than a bang. The valve that’s supposed to stop the tub from overflowing called it quits and opted to not shut off when it was supposed to. Resultingly, upon returning from changing into pajamas, I discovered our kitchen, utility room, and my wife’s studio, were flooded. [Read more…]