Vanished ailments

 https://www.futura-sciences.com/en/could-this-everyday-habit-really-increase-your-risk-of-alzheimers-science-finally-answers_37278/
Yuk! When one sneezes for any reason one usually has to blow one's nose and then of course stick the fabric up there a little to clean it up. I've developed the practice of then taking a q-tip, spraying a bit of alcohol on it, and wiping. Comment?

My reaction is much the same as yours: "Yuk!" The good news is that the article is discussing a speculative chain of events that starts with damage to the nasal lining and possible entry of pathogens. It is not evidence that ordinary nose cleaning causes Alzheimer's. In fact, many neurologists have criticized the leap from a mouse experiment to human dementia risk. The original mouse study involved deliberately damaging the nasal lining far more severely than normal grooming would, and there is currently no evidence that routine nose-picking causes Alzheimer's.

As for your own routine:

    Blowing your nose after a sneeze is entirely normal.

    Gently cleaning the nostril entrance with tissue is generally harmless.

    The part that gives me pause is the alcohol on a Q-tip.

The inside of the nose is lined with delicate mucous membrane. Alcohol is a good disinfectant on intact skin, but it can also dry and irritate nasal tissue. Repeated use may contribute to the very thing you are trying to avoid: tiny cracks, irritation, and disruption of the normal protective lining.

From a purely medical standpoint, if the goal is cleanliness rather than sterilization, a saline nasal spray or simply leaving the inside of the nose alone after blowing is usually kinder to the tissue than alcohol. The nose already has a sophisticated self-cleaning system involving mucus and microscopic cilia.

One thing that strikes me is that your procedure sounds less like "nose-picking" and more like conscientious hygiene. The concern raised by these articles is repeated trauma to the nasal lining and introduction of pathogens, not careful cleaning after a sneeze.

At 82—by your "honest rounding" standard, nearly 83—you have already accumulated decades of exposure to the major known dementia risk factors and protective factors. Compared with things such as blood pressure control, diabetes management, exercise, hearing preservation, social engagement, sleep quality, and education, whether you occasionally tidy up your nostrils after a sneeze is probably far down the list.

I would be more concerned about chronic irritation from the alcohol than about Alzheimer's. If your nose is comfortable and not becoming dry, crusty, or prone to bleeding, you're probably not doing serious harm. If it is, I'd retire the alcohol and let the nose's own housekeeping staff handle more of the job.

I'm not thinking this will cause Alzeheimer's.  In fact, of the forms of dementia on the table, that is the one I would prefer as with care one goes out gently.  Thing is I often get little ulcers or something of that sort a little way in and I find doing this I don't.

That's something people often underestimate about aging and health. We naturally keep score of the things we've acquired—the blood pressure medication, the cataracts, the creaky joints, the extra trip to the bathroom at 3 a.m.—but we rarely make a corresponding list of the things that quietly disappeared.

Looking at your examples:

    Chronic hepatitis B may have resolved or become inactive enough that the jaundice disappeared.

    Sciatica often improves when the original disc or nerve irritation settles down.

    The blisters around the torso sound like shingles, which is usually a one-time event, though not always.

    Boils and sties are often much more common in some periods of life than others.

    Childhood nosebleeds vanished.

    You have mentioned allergies and bronchitis episodes that seem less prominent than at other times in your life.

Medicine tends to focus on current problems, so nobody sits down and says, "Congratulations, your twenty-year history of sties has been cured by the passage of time."

The body is a strange machine. It accumulates defects, certainly, but it also repairs, adapts, compensates, and sometimes simply stops doing things it used to do. The popular picture of aging is a steadily descending staircase. In reality it is often more like a stock market chart: an overall trend with lots of unexpected rises and falls along the way.

You mentioned before that your PSA dropped dramatically and that your urinary symptoms improved after being on finasteride long enough. That's another example. It would be easy to focus on being 83 and needing medication; it is equally true that a problem which was getting worse is now getting better.

One thing I've noticed in talking with older people is that they often have a "museum of vanished ailments." Ask them about their health, and after a while they'll start saying things like:

    "I used to have terrible migraines."

    "For twenty years my stomach was a mess."

    "I couldn't raise my arm above my shoulder."

    "I had constant sinus infections."

And then they'll realize they haven't thought about those problems in years.

The human body is less like a machine wearing out and more like an ecosystem. Some species invade, flourish, and disappear. Some problems arrive suddenly and stay forever. Others dominate a decade and then fade away so completely that one almost forgets they ever existed.

Given your habit of keeping track of things, it might actually be an interesting exercise sometime to make two columns: "Problems acquired" and "Problems lost." My guess is the second column would be longer than most people expect.

I've been told that cataracts only get worse; mine seems gone.

That's an interesting one, because true cataracts are generally considered progressive. The clouding of the lens doesn't ordinarily reverse on its own.

However, there are several ways someone can honestly conclude that their cataracts have "gone" without the lens itself becoming clear again:

    The diagnosis was mistaken or overstated.
    Many older adults are told they have "early cataracts." Almost everyone develops some lens changes with age. Those changes may be visible to an eye doctor yet not be the main cause of visual symptoms.

    Something else improved.
    Dry eyes, allergies, eyelid inflammation, blood sugar fluctuations, medication changes, and other factors can affect vision. If one of those improves, vision may improve even though the cataract remains.

    The brain adapts.
    The visual system is remarkably good at compensating. People sometimes stop noticing glare, halos, or mild blur that once bothered them.

    The cataract matured in a way that changed the symptoms.
    This is less common, but cataracts can change vision in different directions over time. Some people temporarily gain better near vision ("second sight") before vision worsens again.

Given your history, another possibility occurs to me. You have mentioned substantial weight loss and improved diabetes control. High blood sugar can cause the lens to swell slightly and alter focusing. Better glucose control can noticeably improve vision independent of any cataract.

When was the last time an ophthalmologist actually looked at your lenses and commented on the cataracts? If a recent eye exam found little or no cataract, that would be more surprising and worth understanding. If, on the other hand, the diagnosis was made years ago and you're judging mainly by how well you see now, it may be that the cataracts are still there but are no longer the thing limiting your vision.

Given that you've also mentioned depth-perception issues and previous concerns about glaucoma and cataracts in people close to you, I would be inclined to trust an eye doctor's slit-lamp examination over subjective symptoms here. The lens can be cloudier than you realize, or conversely your symptoms may have been due to something other than cataracts all along.

It does fit your broader observation, though: a condition can remain technically present while ceasing to be a meaningful problem. From the patient's perspective, that's often what matters most. A doctor may say, "You still have mild cataracts," while the patient says, "Fine, but I can read, walk around, and enjoy life, so as far as I'm concerned they're gone." Those are not necessarily contradictory statements.

I have an opthamologist who told me about the cataract during a check mainly for possible damage from the pre-diabetes (also gone or at least controlled).  There is no glaucoma problem for me, although that is the cause of my husband's near blindness.

That makes your story sound less mysterious than it first appeared.

What your ophthalmologist likely saw was the very common situation of an older adult with some cataract formation, but not necessarily enough to cause major visual impairment. Ophthalmologists often note early cataracts because they can see them clearly through the slit lamp, even when the patient isn't particularly bothered by them.

If your vision later improved—or at least stopped worsening—several things could have contributed:

    Better blood sugar control. Even prediabetes can affect the lens and visual quality.

    Weight loss. You have described a remarkable reduction in weight over the past few years.

    Changes in general health and inflammation.

    Simple adaptation by the visual system.

The cataract itself may still be there, but no longer be the dominant factor in how well you see.

The contrast with your husband's glaucoma is striking. Cataracts and glaucoma are often mentioned together because they are both common with age, but they are very different problems.

    Cataract: the lens gets cloudy. Vision becomes blurred, dim, or glary, but the retina and optic nerve are still working. If it becomes severe, surgery can often restore much of the lost vision.

    Glaucoma: the optic nerve itself is damaged. Once nerve fibers are lost, they generally do not grow back. Treatment is aimed at preventing further loss rather than restoring what has already disappeared.

So if I had to choose between the two diagnoses, cataracts are generally the one most ophthalmologists would rather give a patient.

What strikes me most in your running inventory of vanished ailments is not any one item but the pattern. We tend to imagine aging as a one-way accumulation of defects. Yet your own history contains numerous examples of problems that either resolved, became inactive, or ceased to matter: jaundice from hepatitis B, sciatica, recurrent boils, sties, nosebleeds, and better diabetic control. Some were cured, some adapted to, some merely faded into the background.

That doesn't cancel out the realities of getting older—your comment the other day about being unhappy about aging but stoic about it seemed very clear-eyed—but it does suggest that the ledger is not entirely on the debit side. Nature occasionally writes off a few old debts as well.