So about six months ago, I go to our Quick Care clinic to get a referral for a sleep study. I leave the appointment with the referral… and a brand-spanking new prescription for blood pressure medication. Stinking people looking out for my health. Anyway, so I had a six-month prescription, and that prescription was about to run out, so I figured that I better go see a real doctor about my blood pressure.
Now, when I went to Quick Care, my blood pressure was like 170/130. I’ve been tracking it ever since, and although there are times when it spikes in the 160/110 range (which is pretty much any time I get pissed off… which, as you can imagine, is almost daily), it’s usually in the 140s/90s. Still high, but better, no?
I make an appointment with an actual real doctor (figure I’m about at the age where I need a family physician). The appointment comes, I go to see the doctor, and my stupid blood pressure is still high. It’s 148/98. So, the doctor wants to double the dosage of the lisinopril that I’m on, and I’m fine with that. Aside from a constant nagging cough, I don’t really suffer any side-effects. Then the doctor tells me that he wants to check my cholesterol. Crap. I have no doubt that my cholesterol is high, and I’m sure that I’m going to have to fork out money for a prescription for that crap every month too. The nurse sticks a needle in my arm and draws a couple of vials of blood. I’m amazed at how dark the blood is… almost black… and I’m thinking to myself that may be part of my problem. With all of the tons of fat that I have eaten in my 41-years of life (’cause, damn it, it tastes good), the crap has actually morphed into actual oil in my system. Of course my blood pressure is going to be high with Pennzoil 10w30 running through my veins, and I’m way past the 3 month/3000 mile mark. Can’t I just get a stinking oil change and a lube job?.
I heard from the doctor’s office today. Low and behold, I have high cholesterol. SURPRISE! They called in a prescription for some statin-thingie to Walgreens, and as of tomorrow, I’ll be medicated for my condition. Possible side effects are muscle cramps, drowsiness, and liver damage. They recommend taking it before bed so that the side effects are less noticeable. The drowsiness thing happening while I’m sleeping makes sense. However, being awoken in the middle of the night with a charlie horse doesn’t sound very pleasant, and I’m sure my wife would agree with me on that. As far as the liver damage part goes, I’m kind of hoping to avoid that. I guess if I have liver failure or something, having that happen while I’m asleep might be a plus?!?
Why is everything that tastes good bad for you (and if someone tries to tell me that steamed broccoli or broiled fish “tastes good”… I may punch him or her in the lying, filthy little mouth)? “Everything in moderation,” you may say, but I would reply that moderation sucks. Stupid common sense. If I’m stuck in the Craphandle of Nebraska with nothing to do and no real future worth caring about, I want to be able to eat what I want when I want. Eating is one of the very few pleasures I have… and now it just happens to be killing me.
AARGH!
Apparently, high cholesterol makes one very pirate-like?
With the history of high blood pressure and heart disease that infests my family tree, I figured all of this was coming. I just hoped that maybe I was going to be the branch that could remain healthy. I’m telling you, optimism in all shapes, colors and sizes, leads to nothing but disappointment, which is why I usually do such a wonderful job of avoiding it.
Okay, so here’s the Catch-22. The potential side effects of the statin-thingie don’t sound very pleasant. So, I figure I need to lose about 20 to 30 pounds and start eating gross crap, which doesn’t sound very fun. Then, when I’m all sickly skinny and eating leaves and twigs, there is still a chance that I will need to remain on cholesterol medication. Stupid genetics. So, do I just let the doctor medicate the hell out of me and potentially destroy my liver (a problem that may never come to be… look at me, the stinking optimist) while I continue to enjoy one of the few simple pleasures I have in life: eating good food? Or, do I give up one of the few simple pleasures that I can experience in the Craphandle of Nebraska in an effort to extend my life so that I can potentially live out an extended life in the Craphandle of Nebraska with no simple pleasures? And even if I give up the simple pleasure, there is still the chance that I will need to remain on the liver-destroying medication, so I may actually give up the simple pleasure and still die of liver failure. Sounds pretty much like a lose-lose-lose situation to me. There… now I’m sounding a little more like the pessimist that I know and dislike an awful lot of the time.
So, now I have a doctor. He wants to see me again after about 30 days on the current medications to measure my progress. I should be proud of myself for taking some responsibility for my health and trying to be there for my family’s future, right? But all I can think about is how I’m 41… and it is just going to be a matter of time before Mr. Dr. is going to be thinking that he needs to be sticking his finger up my butt. Seriously… if I’m falling apart this much in my 40s, what bright, shiny stars can I expect in my 50s… and beyond? Well, with the Dr. seemingly intent on destroying my liver, I may not have to worry about it at all…