Last week I went in for a general physical, acting on the same general impulse that prompted my visit to the ob/gyn a couple of weeks ago. I saw a very nice young man in his early 30's who treated me like an adult and had a sense of humor. We got on famously as he tapped my knees, listened to my lungs, and discussed my overall health. He declared me fit, if overweight, and asked me to get my blood drawn so he could check cholesterol and glucose levels. He advised me to drink a lot more water, eat less, exercise more, and start eating fruit again. I okayed all this in a vague sort of way.
"I'll send a letter if the blood tests are fine," he added. "In fact, I'll send you a letter if just a couple of things are less than fine. If anything drastic shows up, I'll phone you." We shook hands and I went back to work. Two days later I stopped by the clinic to get my blood drawn. Finally, all the medical things attended to. No more residual guilt over ignoring basic health care. I felt great.
He called me at work today. My stomach clenched. "Your cholesterol levels are very bad," he said. "I recommend putting you on medication for it immediately."
"Wait, wait," I pleaded. "I want to try changing my diet, and exercising first. I can't stand taking pills. Does this mean I'm a heart attack waiting to happen?" I tentatively poked at my suddenly tight chest muscles.
"No, not right now," he said calmly. "Everything else is in perfect condition: triglycerides, glucose, "good" cholesterol, blood pressure. But you shouldn't have such high numbers on the "bad" cholesterol, and once you go through menopause you might be at considerable risk."
Hello, Lucy. This is your wake up call.
So that's that. No more fried food, no more fatty goodness. No more self-indulgence. Time to sign up for that yoga class, and start walking a couple of miles every other day. I intend to take this seriously, and John will help. The cholesterol problem may be genetic; I can't know that, being adopted, but if my revamped lifestyle doesn't result in significant changes then it's a good guess. I'm sure I'll feel better and look better, anyway, and I'd do almost anything to avoid taking a daily pill.
This last weekend I drove to the City to visit my friend and ex-housemate Mark Fenton. He just got home from the hospital after his second heart attack. He's only four years older than I am. I don't intend to wait for that kind of problem. I figure I had 40 years of eating whatever I wanted, and now I'm going to spend the next 40 being sensible about my diet.
What a lowering thought. I hope my self-esteem survives this change. If I start wearing granny dresses and stop shaving my legs you may bring on the Tofu Intervention Team.
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