Think you're fit? . . .

Memo to the over-40 set: Want a good reason to get a complete physical every year?

Tom Nissalke.

The former NBA Coach of the Year and current Utah Jazz radio commentator looks like the model of health, especially for a man in his 60s. If they ever decide to have an over-50 basketball league, he'll be a first-round draft pick. He exercises daily. He rarely drinks alcohol. He doesn't smoke. He doesn't eat fried food. He isn't overweight.

And he gets a physical every year. Good thing, too. Doctors discovered the plumbing to his heart was plugged. Just like that, he was on the operating table. A few hours later, his heart looked like the I-15 interchange. Six, count 'em, six -- bypasses.

"The moral is, live a full life because you don't know," says Nissalke. "And you better get a physical."

It's weird. We take our cars in for regular checkups and tuneups and oil changes. We get our furnaces checked out each fall. We have accountants check our finances and records. But some people don't bother seeing the doctor for a checkup before their warranty runs out.

Maybe the best thing that ever happened to Nissalke was the mild heart attack he had in 1985. Otherwise, he wouldn't have begun submitting himself for annual physicals, and if he hadn't done that, well . . . who knows?

He also wouldn't have kept a close eye on his weight and watched what he ate.

After the heart attack, he was careful and so was his family.

Every time he stepped on the scale, his wife and children huddled around him. Suddenly, he was drinking skim milk. But he was like a driver who slows down after seeing an auto accident; after a while he was speeding again. He suspects that over time he began to indulge himself with too many burgers and candy bars.

But you're different, you're thinking. You jog and play basketball in a church league and lift weights. So does Nissalke. You look fine in the mirror, with a relatively trim waistline. So does Nissalke. The outside looks fine, but who knows what's going on inside. The first thing acquaintances say to Nissalke now is, "You of all people. I never thought this would happen to you."

He has a resting pulse rate of 47 and his blood pressure is 117 over 70. At 6-foot-1, he weighs 189 pounds, three over his high school playing weight. Every day he walks his dog in the park and either runs, bikes or lifts weights.

The problem is there's this stuff called plaque that collects along the walls of your blood vessels. It's the silent killer. Eventually, plaque can create a partial or complete blockage in or near the heart. You might never see it coming. John Ritter didn't. Nissalke's surgeon told him he performs 250 bypasses a year.

Since the heart attack 18 years ago, Nissalke has gotten an extensive annual physical, prostate and colon tests, a treadmill test, chest X-ray, the works. He always passed with flying colors, but this time the cardiologist didn't like the treadmill test results. He ordered an angiogram (in which radioactive dye is injected into his body to check the flow of blood via X-ray). There were blockages.

"I considered myself fit," says Nissalke from his home. "On a scale of 1 to 10, I would have given myself a 7 or 8."

He might survive with the blockages for years, he was told or he might die within days. No one could say. The surgeon wanted to operate soon. The surgery lasted six hours. Nissalke came out of surgery feeling as if he'd just been sacked by Warren Sapp, but it beat the alternative.

Recovering at home, Nissalke plans to return to microphone in time for the Jazz season this fall. Meanwhile, he's warning others: "I want to get the word out there," he says. "Get that physical. Even though you think you're in good shape, you never know."

E-MAIL: drob@desnews.com

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