How did it happen? Somehow, from one day to the next, I’d suddenly become
old. I’d reached the inevitable tipping point I’d known was in my future much
sooner than I’d expected, and I hadn’t just reached it; I’d fallen over the
edge and slid halfway down the slope on the other side.
I’d had nagging issues: moderate bone loss, mild
anemia, and occasional depression, but while depression wasn’t a welcome guest,
it didn’t hang around.
I did the healthy stuff: ate well, took a brisk daily
walk, and I climbed walls – literally, at a climbing gym.
True, I couldn’t keep climbing forever. A day lay in
wait when the frailty of age would outpace how quickly I could improve my
skill. But before hitting that tipping point, I hoped to level up from climbs
rated 5.11 (hard intermediate) to climbs rated 5.12 (advanced).
Then about a year ago, arthritis struck the middle
finger of my left hand. Pain obliged me to climb basically one-handed, able to
use my left hand to balance myself, but not to clutch a hold, not to pull
myself up or over or close into the wall.
I felt old.
A general
fatigue that had been creeping up suddenly overtook me in a rush. The hours in
a day in which I could act with my normal vigour shrank, and outside that
shrinking circle, I was exhausted. Listless. And for no reason, I’d get bouts
of heart-clutching anxiety.
Through
the winter, my mood matched the gloomy weather. I experienced bouts of
disassociation, with me on one side of a grey curtain, everyone else on the
other side; me able to act normal, but feeling cut off.
Maybe
I should see someone about this, I thought. Fortunately, as it turned out, that
seemed like too much effort.
Eventually,
I told my wife I had to cut back on work. “Not to worry,” I added. “I have a
plan.”
I’d
keep doing the work I love most – the creative writing classes I teach and the
manuscripts I critique – but I’d let my Blogspot and Substack postings get
spotty, I’d take an extra week off between the winter and spring sessions, and
I’d trudge forward one season at a time.
A
long-awaited appointment with a rheumatologist brought a medical miracle – an
injection into my knuckle, and I could climb again without lightning bolts of
pain.
This
didn’t cheer me up, not as much as I told myself it ought to. My finger was
never going to be 100%, arthritis could cripple me at any time, and I’d never
get back to where I’d been as a climber after all those lost months.
I
still felt I was on a long slide toward … I didn’t know what. Maybe to not being
able to get out of bed in the morning.
Then
miracle number 2. I heard a radio program about low testosterone. Loss of
libido is the obvious symptom, but for men, that’s also the best-known symptom
of just getting older. However, I learned low testosterone also causes fatigue.
Hmm.
I
consulted Dr. Google. Other symptoms include bone loss, anemia, depression, and
anxiety. Check, check, check, and check. My family doctor arranged a blood
test, which confirmed my diagnosis.
A
testosterone prescription began working within days. My energy level climbed. My
depression lifted. Looking back, I realize I hadn’t known how depressed I was. I’d
forgotten what normal felt like.
My
libido also rose from the grave. And I’m hungry – that was a surprise! But while I’m eating more, I’m
not gaining weight. Apparently, my metabolism has kicked up a notch.
How’s
the anemia and bone loss doing? Well, I’ll have to wait and see – at least
three months for the anemia and at least six months for the bone density.
It’s
my good fortune I was too listless to see a specialist about the depression. A
psychiatrist friend tells me testosterone is something family doctors
prescribe, not something in her black bag.
A
psychiatrist might have prescribed an anti-depressant, which might have worked
– but only for the depression, though on the plus side, the Ontario Drug
Benefit (ODP), which pays for prescriptions for those of us over 65, would have
covered the cost.
For
an effective prescription, for testosterone, I need to pay out of pocket.
If
you have low testosterone as a result of HIV, hypothalamic, pituitary, or
testicular disease, ODP will cover it, but if you’re just continually
exhausted, depressed, and missing your sex drive, tough.
Men,
it seems, are expected to grow grumpy with age.
But
if you get really down, don’t worry. Ontario will put you out of your misery
for free; OHIP fully covers Medical Assistance in Dying.
I’m
fortunate, though; I can afford $112.03 per month for a good quality of life.
As
for the climbing, I’m back to routes rated 5.11, and I’m eyeing 5.12’s. I may
actually be stronger than before. Testosterone does grow muscle mass. But
growing stronger and leaner develops over months, not weeks. For now, I’m
climbing better – and doing everything better – because I’ve exited a fog of
fatigue and depression.
Physical
decline still lies in my future, as it does for all of us. But for now, I’m
back to my usual self and, week by week, growing physically younger.
***
Brian Henry is an editor, writer, and creative writing instructor
living in Toronto. He publishes the Quick Brown Fox blog
and Substack. He’d prefer not to grow old before his time.
P.S.
Many thanks to Denisha for her editorial eye on this piece.
See Brian’s upcoming weekly writing classes, one-day workshops, and four-day retreats here.



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