Rising Pressure

The first thing they do when I walk into my doctor's office is take my pulse and my blood pressure. They put the machine on me yesterday and it read my BP at 182/88. "That's kind of high, isn't it?" I asked the nurse, the fear in my voice well within reason.

"These machines are always high," she assured me, clearly lacking the concern I felt she should experience. Well, okay, but 182 over 88? "The doctor will check it again when you see him." And he did, at a much better 138/74. Not terrific, but not particularly dangerous either.

The nurse is right though: their machines do always seem to be high. I've noticed that for years at my doctor's, and my BP is always better when they measure it old school during my exams. So my question is, Why do you use such inaccurate equipment? Why bother, if you don't like the results which are spit out?

The blood pressure machine I have at home (I take my own BP most mornings on my PCP's suggestion) typically has me in the 130-140 over 75 or 76 range, so I trust when he checks it the old fashioned way. But if the unit I bought at a drugstore in Cedarville, MI (my old one conked out when I was up north last year, not that that's important for you to know yet it does help pad my blog) for all of forty bucks is reasonably accurate, why can't the Detroit Medical Center find one more reliable than what it's got?

Maybe there are some questions which simply aren't answerable. Like, why can't the Cocoa Puffs bird eat his cereal in a calm, rational manner? 

Under Pressure

I had a doctor's appointment this past week; got to get my money's worth out of Medicare, you know.

Everything is fine; I'm the picture of health, if that picture is hanging skin and gray hair. But I think my physician had had a bad commute or was mad at his wife or something.

He decided to check my blood pressure. Wrapping the cuff around my arm, he began pumping that little ball to air the thing up. It was getting tighter and tighter, yet he kept squeezing and squeezing on the tiny air pump.

Uh, Doc, that's starting to hurt. Squeeze, squeeze, squeeze.

Seriously, man, my arm is really tingling below my elbow. Pump, pump, pump.

Honestly, Doctor, my arm is blue, no, purple. My arm is purple, Doc. Squeeze, squeeze.

"Doc!" I finally implored in panic.

"Oh, I am sorry!" He finally released the ball. "Oh dear, Mr. Cosgriff! Your blood pressure is 295 over 178!" 

I'm sure it's not, Doc. Try again, on my other arm. The bicep on my right arm is smaller than my index finger just now.

Little White Pills

"I think we should try a blood pressure medication. Are you all right with that, Mr. Cosgriff?" my doctor asked me yesterday.

"Yes, I am," I replied. My blood pressure has been high for about two years now. I do walk 6 out of 7 mornings, yet could stand to lose weight. Not that I haven't actually lost any. Between February's checkup and yesterday's I lost a pound. True, that isn't impressive. But it is, uh, shall we say, trending in the right direction.

My mind had already been made up that I was going to ask for medication no matter what he told me. I don't want to be paranoid but as I told the good doc, I don't want to have a debilitating stroke at 68 because we didn't start taking precautionary measures now. He agreed, along with the admonition to continue walking and to try to eat better and lose a few pounds. In my defense I think I am eating better. I'm just eating too much of it. Three pounds of salad, even dry salad (no dressing) is still three pounds of food.

I'll take my blood pressure every day along with the name which I can't pronounce of the prescription drug. I heard all the warnings: watch that your pressure doesn't drop too low, notice if you have dizzy spells (quiet Ron) and blah, blah. I didn't listen to nor read them all. The precautions are too much like War and Peace these days.

 With all that in mind, I held the little pill in my hand this morning before popping it down my throat, thinking, well, me and you now, little buddy. It's simply another aspect of the aging process. Life goes on. Hopefully for quite a while yet.

124 over 72

At the second of my twice yearly checkups Monday, all my numbers were good. Cholesterol was good, A1C was good, vitamin D was fine, and my blood pressure was 124/72. My doctor was fine with that. I was ecstatic; my BP had been creeping high for about a year and a half and I fully expected to be given meds for it if it had stayed up. 

I almost hate saying things like this, because we all have stories of someone bragging about how good their health was and then keeling over a minute later. But I feel great, better honestly than I have in twenty years, physically and mentally. Seeing that blood pressure drop almost 25 points can help an outlook too. I guess there is something to that exercise thing.

Still, the doc did have to take a minute to excoriate me about something. "You could stand to lose 10 to 15 pounds, Mr. Cosgriff. After all, you've gained two pounds since February."

What is it about doctors and weight? "You've gained two pounds since February," I wanted to say in a mocking voice. Come on, doc, everything's great. Two pounds in six months is, what, 2/3 of a pound a month. Okay, maybe technically I am headed in the wrong direction there. But I ain't exactly eating myself to death either. 

But, all right, I have until next February, me Mom's birthday in fact, when my next appointment has been set, to drop 10-15 pounds. But if I actually do, a big if in itself I concede, I can't help but wonder what he might find to complain about instead. 

120/70

120/70. Man, them are some good numbers.

This morning I had my regular checkup with my regular doctor and I think those numbers tell it all.

120/70.

My blood pressure as of 8 O'clock this morning.

To say I'm pleased is understatement. Sublime understatement. It hasn't been that low since high school. Even then, I seemed to have the opposite problem. For my senior year physical it was 101/59; the doc then was concerned that maybe it was too low.

But now - contented sigh - 120/70.

Oh, I've somehow gained three pounds since June, and my pulse (48bpm) is a bit low. The Doctor chided me over those factoids. They have to complain about something, you know. I know how I gained the weight too: I have not in the least bit watched what I eat in the last few months. But for now...

120/70. I think I'll make it my mantra.