In addition to my regular oncology appointments (which included having blood drawn six times over and eight-hour period to measure how quickly the new drugs flow through my system), last week's activities included a bone density test. It was thought that might help determine whether or not my recent flurry of bone fractures were caused by the garden-variety osteoporosis or something more interesting to the medical community. The test took all of 10 minutes and involved little more than having a scanner measure two skeletal areas (my spine and my leg). The resulting readings will be compared with those of an average 20-something to see if I exhibit much of a deviation from that - of course, it will not record the ravages of gravity, change in hair colour, or any other tell-tale signs of what has befallen my wee body over the last 30+ years of aging.
There was one unsettling bit of info gleaned from the test experience, however. Before the tech started the study, she measured my height. While doing so, she asked me to estimate what my towering frame might measure. I guessed somewhere between 5'6" and 5'5" as that is what the measurements up until now have been (don't think I've changed much since my late teens). To my shock and surprise, I stand only 5'3". The tech speculated the recent compression fracture in my spine was the cause. Suffice to say the next time I read "The Shrinking of Treehorn" (a children's book by Florence Parry Heide, illustrated by Edward Gorey and first published in 1971), I'll pay closer attention to the details of the poor lad's plight.
Bummer thought: I've been thinking my weight is in line with my fantasy height of 5'6". In order to better align with my new 5'3" self, dieting will be a common companion for my foreseeable future. Sigh.
Happy thought: At least I had my fill of Belgian chocolates and waffles before the truth was revealed.
No comments:
Post a Comment