Before I went to my Urologist’s office to get my quarterly PSA (Prostate Specific Antigen) level checked, I whined a bit to Linda about how inconvenient getting my PSA level checked is.

When I checked in, there was a somewhat disheveled man about my age, on a four wheel electric scooter with a deep, loud, raspy voice, checking in one window down. At first I thought he was being rude then, after a second, I realized he was not being rude, just direct and efficient.

They were busy. There were three seats in the row I sat in. I was on one end, the middle seat was empty and in the seat on the other end was a man about my age. He looked deep in thought. Judging from his tattoos and patches on his jacket he was probably in the Navy at some point in his life. I’ll call him, “the Navy guy”.

Right after I sat down, the scooter guy drove up and parked next to the Navy guy. Below is the gist of the discussion I overheard during the couple minutes I was sitting there.

The scooter guy started the conversation by telling the Navy guy that his left leg will be chopped off below the knee in a few weeks. He said his right leg was chopped off below the knee a couple years earlier.

The Navy guy responded he was there for the final check before the removal of his left leg below the knee in just a couple days. The Navy guy’s voice and demeanor made him seem to be very nervous. They were seeing the same doctor.

I have no idea why two guys getting their lower legs removed would be seeing a Urologist. I just sat quietly and didn’t ask.

The scooter guy tells the Navy guy it is scary but, never forget, you’re alive to be scared, so that’s a blessing. He added, every day he was thankful to be alive. He said, during one of his previous surgeries, they brought him back from the edge of death. I wanted to ask for more details but I didn’t.

The conversation continued with the scooter guy reassuring the Navy guy that while life without the lower part of a leg has its challenges, the challenges were all surmountable. After all, you either get your leg chopped off or you will soon die.

He talked about the process of getting his prosthetic lower leg. Lifted up his pant leg to show him his “leg” which was a metal bar attached to a foot from the ankle down. The “foot” had a sock and tennis shoe on it. If he hadn’t said so and lifted his pants leg, I would have had no clue his lower leg was missing.

The scooter guy’s advice was to make sure your artificial foot is the same size as your other foot so your shoes will match. That way most people who see you will not even know you are missing the bottom half of your leg.

Then in a very serious voice he recalled how relieved he was when he learned Medicare pays for the scooter if you pick the right scooter. He said make sure you tell them you want the scooter medicare covers. They will try to convince you to get one with all the bells and whistles but the medicare covered scooters do the trick and don’t cost you a dime.

The scooter guy said he sold his house and moved into a “facility” to get some care. He did not explain what he meant by a facility. All I can say is the way he sounded, moving into the facility was like a blessing, not a negative thing at all.

The Navy guy asked the scooter guy if he had diabetes also and the scooter guy said yes. The Navy guy then said “damn diabetes” while shaking his head in disgust. Scooter guy nodded in agreement.

The Navy guy said he was nervous about the surgery. The scooter guy laughed out loud. He said something to the effect of, well, without the surgery you will soon die. With the surgery your whole life will change but you will be alive.

Then the boisterous and gruff scooter guy looked straight into the eyes of the Navy guy and said “feeling sorry for yourself is a waste of time”. Apparently being direct was just what the Nave guy needed to hear. The Navy guy looked visibly calmer.

About that time I was called in for my blood draw. Only the scooter guy was there when I was done getting my blood drawn. He gave me a quick nod, I quietly said, “Good luck” and he quietly responded “thanks”.

As I walked out of the office, I knew it was time for me to stop whining about my medical appointments. It was time for me to take better care of myself. I am lucky to be alive and functioning. The time is now for me to start appreciating how lucky I am.

Real life serious medical issues are not fun. The state of the art with cancer is to remove it and continually check in case the cancer comes back. The poor circulation which some people with diabetes live with results in the loss of appendages. I felt a little ashamed at being annoyed with having to get a PSA test every three months.

Each of my three cancer surgeries, kidney, prostate and colon, disrupted my life for only a couple months while I healed from the surgery. I am thankful I am alive.

My PSA level was undetectable, good news. However thank you scooter guy for reminding me how lucky we all are to be alive. I feel ashamed I whined and pitied myself for the inconvenience of having periodic tests.

The closer you look the more you see