Half A Hundred

The above is an ad I made for my 50th high school reunion, a little urge to attend.

I've never been to one of these, nor had much interest, and truthfully since the era of social media began I never saw the point.

But I may have missed the point, or at least that's the way I'm thinking these days. And it may have more to do with the number than the ostensible purpose.

That is, it seems to me there's no point trying to remember high school, although God knows we all try. But 50 years is a long time, and I for one don't trust my memory as far as I could throw it.

It began to occur to me, though, that this might be an interesting demographic, and I was right. If one made it to the age of 18 in 1976, the odds are good that they're still alive. The statistics point to around 70-80% of us still being around here at the 50-year mark.

So maybe, I'm thinking, it's less a reunion of old friends than a celebration of survival. Even with the odds, to reach 68 means dodging some bullets along the way, and I think we should all be ready to party.

This is me doing my part, then. Also, I get bored.

It's hot in Arizona. The temps warmed up over the past couple of days, and I feel it. I don't care about the heat outside; I do care when certain rooms warm up too much, because then I get sick.

And it's really just one area of this house, a closed porch that isn't connected to the A/C. If I'm not paying attention, I'll suddenly find myself thinking about what's in my stomach and if it's planning on staying there. I just need to be cautious, and then maybe get the hell out of town pretty soon. At least for a bit.

Assuming I go in for a hyperbaric oxygen treatment today, it will be my 29th session, going into my third month. The evidence behind HBO therapy is strong in terms of improvement in brain fog and fatigue, although I'm not aware of longitudinal or other serious trials with this. I'm sure there have been some.

There are two kinds of HBO chambers, not counting the design (I'm in sort of a pup tent), and they differ because of pressure. Hospital-grade hyperbaric oxygen is 2.8 ATA (absolute atmosphere), which is roughly like being 35 feet under water. This is the serious stuff, for wound healing and other situations where increased oxygen in the bloodstream is a good idea.

The one I use is more commercial, for home use or clinics, and is 1.4 ATA (about 15-20 feet of water pressure). There's not a lot of anecdotal evidence from that level of pressure in terms of long Covid, but we all assume that some is more than none.

And other than the above supplements, there's not a lot of good news out there in therapy land. We know a lot more about this phenomenon than we used to, of course; we just don't really know how to treat it. Yet.

So I jumped on this. The problem with HBOT is that insurance usually won't cover it for this (Medicare certainly won't), and what improvement that has been demonstrated has been with many, many sessions (upwards of 60).

And those can run $1000 a session. Sometimes. I mean, for a chance of some improvement, I should take out a mortgage?

So I signed up for six months of treatment at this clinic here in Phoenix. My friend, the one who offered me a room here in her house, goes for other therapy, although sometimes she uses HBOT. She pulled strings and played nice and got me a substantial discount, and with the promise to stick around for six months my sessions cost me – wait for it – around $12 each. Less than $1000, in other words.

So even though I don't plan on being around here in the summer a lot, that six months doesn't have to be consecutive and it'll work out. And even if I ended up wasting a few sessions, the cost is really very reasonable (less than $200 a month). If it takes more than 50 sessions at 1.4 ATA, I'll do it. The improvement isn't spectacular but it's real, and actually I think if you saw me today versus three months ago you'd notice.

And as awful as the weather here is about to turn, my mother lives 90 minutes away in the mountains, and there are more mountains. There are ways of escaping the desert and not quite the state.

But I'm not missing summer in Washington. I'm not sure how this will work out, but it will. I will be back east, too, visiting my family there at some point.

And then back here in October, for this reunion, which I'm now looking forward to. Go Panthers (I still know the fight song by heart, too).