Vitiligo sounds as if it could
be either an exotic sexual act or the language of vitamins. Since, I am the
author of this treatise, it cannot be the former, as I have no awareness of the
like. The latter assumes that C has the
capacity to communicate with D, K and friends.
If this was the case, what would they say? “Nice job on scurvy?”
In fact, vitiligo is a
dermatologic condition causing the loss of pigment on areas of skin. I first
discovered that I had this ailment when visiting a dermatologist for an
entirely different condition. He deemed
my other complaint to be “boring” but, at seeing patches of white under my arms
he exclaimed “now that’s interesting” and diagnosed the condition. As a side note here, “that’s interesting” is
not an utterance one welcomes hearing from a physician.
In my world of metaphorical
thinking, vitiligo was a clear sign that I was fading away.
Clearly, there is much that is
lost and gained in aging. Hair comes to mind.
In this regard, I have fared better than some. Although, I have come to postulate that there
is a direct inverse relationship between the hairs on your head and those in
your ears; as one diminishes, the other multiplies. Perhaps it has to do with the physical law
regarding the conservation of matter.
But, it has become clear to me that, as one ages, the term “getting a
haircut” becomes increasingly expansive in its definition and, quite literally,
covers greater territory.
Teeth also seem to come to mind.
To my great regret, having eschew the genetic blueprints for my father’s good
looks and athletic proclivities, I instead inherited his disposition to gum
disease. I am a poster child in this
regard. To be fair, the loss of bone
tissue along with abutting teeth have been nicely replaced with implants that,
when x-rayed, make my skull look like a being out of an early James Cameron
movie. And while no one will ever
confuse me with Arnold Schwarzenegger,
I do share a birth date with another highly-regarded action star – Mr. T. Who knows, perhaps we were switched at birth.
Continuing along our list of
losses, I am missing a sliver of my meniscus
and I also have no spleen. The
missing spleen was removed 35 years ago to address an idiopathic blood
disorder. Idiopathic is a medical term
for “we haven’t a clue”. The absence of
this organ has not had any long term deleterious impact, although to paraphrase
Dracula: “the night is still young”. I
am reminded of the one about the difference between a Jewish pessimist and a
Jewish optimist. Says the pessimist: “Things
are terrible, they can’t possibly get worse”. The optimist: “Things are terrible, but they
can always get worse.” Where were we?
Ah, the missing spleen; the one significant impact has been my being more susceptible
to infections. Thus, my physician’s insistence
that my annual check-ups be accompanied by inoculations to a broad array of
infectious diseases, some of which haven’t seen the light of day since the Boer
Wars.
On the gains side, my daily morning
and evening hygiene regimen have swelled to a good 20 minutes. Brushing, flossing, water picking and
antihistamine nose spray now fill the evenings in morning periods once reserved
for intimacy or extra sleep. I have
regained some of this lost sleep by initiating a routine of daily meditation –
which is like sleep but much more fashionable.
Additionally, people tell me
that I haven’t lost my sense of humor. I
am not sure, however, that they consider this a compliment.
I could go on. However, in assessing our lives, the
essential metric is not what we have lost and gained but who. The loss of my father was, in the context of
my life and my identity, definitional. My
cousin Jonathan’s death reframed core values and my world view. So many others
as well; Bobby Bauer, who in high school was the best of us; my cousin, Stuart
whose occasional bluster obfuscated his profound kindness and humanity. My
Father in law Hal whose passion for social justice and his care for all people
was unmatched.
But I have been blessed with so
many personal gains; all encapsulated in six words: A remarkable family and
dear friends. The rest is commentary.
