#291 - AD

I've heard somewhere that as men age, they produce lower levels of testosterone which in turn makes them less hard and more emotional. I've never looked it up, but in my years of dealing with men as patients, I can tell you that I believe it. I've seen older, elderly men who I can tell have lived a rough life, tear up and cry either with pain or sadness. These men have worked as rough necks in the oilfield, fought in wars, and raised their families in the principles of tough love.  Their generation did not know the phrase feminine side and did not understand what difference hurt feelings made.   Now, they show pictures of their great-grand kids and tell stories about them, with a smile on their faces.  Many of them have lots of regrets that they are not closer with their families (especially with their sons), due to the fact that over the years, lack of understanding, refusal to bend and compromise, and drawing a line in the sand, led them to drift apart.



#291 is one such man. He actually may be my favorite patient of all times. When I first met him, we had things to talk about right away because he knew my grandfather.  They both retired hands with Texaco.  He had boys of his own who were grown.  He was not close to his boys at all, but he did have a couple of grandsons that he doted on. Whenever he would come to therapy, he would always make it a point to ask about my boys and he learned their names and hobbies right off the bat. He was an avid hunter and taught the hunters safety course in our town for many years.  He also loved collecting guns.  I think he was as excited as Jeff was when Blake shot his first deer.


Over the years, I treated both he and his wife for various ailments, both at their home and at my office. About 8 years before he died, he was involved in a really bad car accident. He was driving to N.O. and as he was passing in front of the old Spahr's, a car pulled out in front of him, causing his van to flip several times. For the rest of his life, he battled with the injuries from that accident.


One of the last times I saw him was at his home.  I was seeing him post-op a total hip replacement and his goal was to be able to walk upstairs to where his old bedroom was. When we finally got there, he asked if I would mind helping him look for some document he knew was up there because he knew that no one else would be able to help him get up there or help him look for it.  I ended up being about an hour late getting back to the office, bur he found the paper he was looking for and was so appreciative. I remember driving back to work and feeling so sad for him that he had three boys of his own and because of past baggage, none of them came to visit or help him.

Whenever I remember him, it is with sparkling blue eyes, a gruff voice, and exuding kindness. It wasn't until the damage had been done to his relationships with his kids that he realized how high of a price he paid for his sternness. He told me, more than once, to hug and kiss my boys every day, and to tell them that I loved them, and to not make the same mistakes that he had.  He also said to remember that being right is not always the most important thing.

Stuff I still think about five years later.



- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone