Sitting up here at 74 years young, 800 meters atop a high hill overlooking the ocean over the jungle and paddock, I’ve had time to reflect on what a blessed life I’ve enjoyed and survived. A few more stats, in the past couple of years I’ve gone from 120 kilograms (264 lbs) to 80 kgs (170 lbs). Shedding that fat made me fitter than I’ve been in decades, normal blood pressure (130 over 70), pretty much free of diabetes (blood sugar at 7 opposed to 15), low cholesterol, 8 hours deep sleep at night, up at 4:30 every morning to greet the pastel sunrise as it paints itself over the sea horizon. What happened?
Well first off I converted from a mostly meat and fat diet to fruits mainly and vegetables with legumes and a bit of seafood. I stopped drinking my near daily bottle of red wine, Pinot noir. I realized my diet at and lethargy were killing me along with a lack of exercise, which I solved with an hour long Nordic Walking Stick fast walk along the ocean foreshores just after I’ve fed and played with my 27 year Eclectuc parrot at dawn.
My mind is crackling clear rather than dulled at times. And though I live without a human partner or roommate, the serenity I get living with my uber-healthy, intelligent and loving bird is what has driven me. I lost touch with many friends from my school days, pot smuggling and music business buddies. Sitting in the Mansion on the Hill made me a new person. And boyoboy did I need it!
Sitting on his lounge perch chattering away after a mutual shower and towelling, listening to smooth jazz, funk and Southern Rock. He keeps watch over me here pecking away as well as the flocks of wild birds and marsupials all around the House on the Hill. Outside there are goannas pacing the yard (3 to 9 feet long) who come fearlessly up to the foyer and eat a raw egg or two. Meanwhile in the wine vine rafters, pythons (3 to 15 feet long and iridescent) slither among the beams hoping for a feed on a distracted bird or lizard, below are spiky echidnas, lazy loping bandicoots the size of a large rat and the occasional mouse which quickly becomes reptile food. Nature sure is calming but not everything is idyllic.
I had my first coronary infarct in 1987 at 37 which was my first death at 10 minutes out. I came back with no apparent it did leave some scarring on the heart wall. Three subsequent heart attacks and a mini-stroke which also sent me to the twilight zone added to the damage which recently resulted in ventricular tachicardia (racing pulse to 170 bpm and heart failure which resulted in open heart surgery to replace an aortic valve plus three bypasses while they were in there during the 12 hour set of procedures. Throw in a state of the art pacemaker and defibrillator to pace the heart and I thought that would do it.
Back in November, I decided to have one last surgical procedure called an ablation where a cable with a cauterizing tip is threaded into your heart through arteries from your groin into the chest and which robotically burned off the scar tissue at my surgeon’s guidance. Dr Jackson it was, same name as my parrot and arguably the foremost ablation surgeon in the country its finest national clinic in the sleepy town of Lake Macquarie. A few hours and an overnight stay but by noon I was on the slow train for the six hour trip back home to the other Jackson in Coffs Harbour.
It’s not been all great on the health front no matter the rosy picture I paint. Because of my isolation and scrupulous sanitary practices, I didn’t catch COVID for the first time until August of last year–a designer strain known as FLIRT for which there is no vaccine. Though I was initially mildly sick it rapidly developed into double pneumonia which left left me with 5% lung capacity necessitating a rushed ambulance trip at 4 am. Three days later I was discharged home. I was told to use a walker around the house for a week to avoid a fall but that period stretched to three months and I was in bed most of the days, exhausted and napping constantly. That led to muscle wastage in my legs which prevented me from walking, reliant on my Rollator to get me around town. couldn’t really drive either depending on the kindness of friends to get me around town for shopping.
I made a decision to sell my car, not get a Tesla and stopped driving so I wouldn’t kill anyone on the road. But living so high on the hill which I couldn’t walk up or down forced me to use taxis. Here comes the federal government to the rescue again. For us folk deemed to be walking challenged they have a scheme for half price scheme with an issued smart card to make it instant. That and half price vouchers from Community Transport made it easy and cheap to get around.