The trip to the cardiologist was thankfully anti-climactic. A few things were sorted out which I'll post to serve as an accurate document of my vital stats as I begin to track my progress toward improving my ticking time-bomb...I mean, ticker.
My blood pressure was a more manageable, if not still elevated, 140/100. Confirming that the 160/115 reading taken last week was either altogether wrong, or at least an isolated incident. I'm going to go out on a limb and say that the walk-in clinic in Hoboken might not be renowned for their technical efficiency. That being said, the blood pressure is still high. My weight is a confirmed 234 lbs (with clothes)...so let's call it, an even 190 lbs.
Without going into full disclosure, the doctor was optimistic about my status and confident in a course of low-maintenance treatment to get some levels to where they should be. While most things were in check, there were some things that he'd like to see improved. So he started me on a minor dosage of meds to begin correcting my high blood pressure (aka hypertension), meds that I can plan on staying on for the rest of my life...give or take a few weeks. In 2 weeks I'll go back and see how I'm reacting to the meds at which point, assuming I'm reacting favorably, I will undergo a stress test and echocardiogram to paint a more accurate picture of everything going on.
So that's where we stand:
Tuesday, January 26, 2010
Blood Pressure: 140/100
Weight: 185 lbs (I lost another 5 pounds writing this blahg...exercise is easy)
I'll revisit this topic in a few weeks, once things start taking shape.
But for now, I hope that my next few entries have nothing to do with my health.
Until then,
Blah, Blah, Blahg!
Is it a coincidence that those ominous 3-letters kickoff one of the ugliest 4-letter words in the English language? I submit it is not. I believe the word 'diet' is a term derived from the combination of the words 'die' and 'dammit'.
They say to love life is to embrace its offerings and revel in its gifts. One of my greatest joys in life is to enjoy a delicious meal of flavors comfortingly familiar and excitingly new. Yet the irony is, many people who are food lovers, life lovers, and lovers of drink and mirth, like myself, often find out that such a lifestyle can and will kill them.
Enjoying Life = Risking Life
What the hell kind of joke is that? Obviously anything in excess is a bad thing. Anything: Food, drink, work, play, religion, logic, risk, caution, structure, spontaneity. You name it, it's all bad in excess. Except drugs I think, I'm pretty sure they're ok across the board. But for arguments sake, let's say that even drugs, in excess, are a bad thing. How is it that something so intrinsic and necessary for life, like eating, can often be so bad for you? I know, I know - A lot of it has to do with WHAT you're eating (leave aside the excess part for now). Yeah, I understand that a hot dog, delicious as it is mysterious, is not exactly an organic product and should be approached with caution. Throw in a few chemicals, a few poisons, and a handful of rat feces into anything and suddenly it's hard to come up with too many arguments supporting its merits as one of life's treasures. Make no mistake, a hotdog is a treasure...a salty, feces-riddled treasure. But I'm not so naive to ignore that Enjoying a Hot Dog = Risking Life.
But let's look at a more natural ingredient: Butter.
Few ingredients are regarded with this level of fear and decadence.
"Oh my god....this is so good, it's like butter!"
"What, did you use a whole stick of butter?"
"The only thing that would make this better is if we were slathered with butter!".
What is butter but simply churned milk. Milk! What's more natural than milk? A baby's first staple meal...mother's milk. (Although, I'll be the first to admit that the thought of churning breast milk into butter is revolting...on so many levels). Throughout childhood, milk remains a staple. "Drink your milk!". That was pretty much the only option in the cafeteria when I was in school. I'm sure that's changed by now...but that was it, then. Whole milk or skim milk. 'I'll take the red-labeled whole milk carton please, and leave the nasty blue-labeled skim milk for the teachers and weird kids with allergies and general social awkwardness'. Of course, now I play for the Blue Team. But throughout childhood, the benefits of milk were pushed down your throat. The calcium. Gotta get your calcium. But butter, which is simply a concentrated form of milk, is EVIL. Sure, they've added some salt to it, but there are plenty of things with salt or sodium in it that aren't as reviled, or more accurately, guilt-inducing than butter. Now I'm not trying to deny that butter is in fact bad for you (in excess). I just don't get it. It seems unfair to me. Again - Eating is one of life's most instinctual and necessary functions. The fact that such a staple food product can be so bad for you seems ludicrous.
"No!!! Stay away from butter!!!! Here, we've created a butter substitute using oils and chemicals that's much better for you".
Phew! That was close.
But then I love the hypocrisy of the over-protective parent, or health nut who goes to the movies and orders popcorn only to ask "Is that real butter? I don't just want flavored oil". Oh really, your body is a temple so you want butter? Make up your mind world, is butter good or bad? Is margarine, Parkay, I Can't Believe It's Not Butter, Olio, etc. a substitute of evil, or another evil substitute? What I'm trying to say it, it doesn't make any goddamn sense.
"But that's just because it's an animal bi-product. Animal bi-products are never good for you. If you want a healthy heart and low blood-pressure you have to focus on fruits & vegetables and all natural ingredients".
Oh really? One word: COFFEE. Thank you - Shut your mouth.
Anyway - I write about all of this today because I have to go on a die dammit. For a number of reasons. First, but not foremost, I am over-weight. There's no two ways about it. I haven't weighed myself recently, because the last time I tried the scale broke....thank you, I'll be here all week. No seriously, the last time I weighed myself, which was a couple months ago, I want to say that I was 235 pounds. Well...not that I want to say that. Nobody wants to say they're 235 lbs, except maybe the human Volkswagons on The Biggest Loser. But for lack of any more updated info, let's say I'm 235 lbs. That's way too fat. Unless there's some new study I missed about the benefits of Guitar Hero and peanut M&Ms. But assuming I haven't, let's assume I'm still in the fat neighborhood.
The other, and more pressing reason that I have to lose weight is because my blood pressure is awful. AWFUL. I was sick last week and went to the doctor to get some antibiotics, and while there I had my BP checked and the first time it was 150/110. I don't know what these numbers mean exactly, but I'm learning that they suck. I had to go back to the doctor for some more meds a week later and my BP that time was 160/115. This was bad enough to have the doctor give me an EKG and blood tests. And I think he even put a mirror under my nose at one point to see if I was still alive. I found this to be of questionable taste and borderline unprofessional.
So these results, and his honest reactions, made me quite nervous. All the other tests came out fine. My cholesterol is fine, the other things he checked for were right on point. The EKG showed good liver and kidney functions. It all came back to the elevated blood pressure. And, in my defense, I'm currently a little stressed out since my November unemployment-status, and had 2 cups of coffee (and nothing else) before going to his office...not knowing that my ticker would be under such scrutiny once I got there.
"So what are the causes of high blood-pressure?", I asked the doctor.
He went on to explain that it can be a combination of a few things, including a bad diet, lack of exercise, and genetics (i.e. family background).
Well, to be perfectly honest, I really don't eat that bad. I keep away from high-sodium foods, I make good balanced dinners, and I'm not a big sweets guy. I'm not a saint, but I would hardly make an example out of my eating habits. I have small breakfasts, if I eat breakfast at all ("But it's the most important...", please - shut up). Although it's not uncommon for me to have bacon and eggs on the weekends. And a day doesn't go by that I don't have a cup of coffee or two. And I often skip lunch, or will eat something small, but not overly healthy (leftovers or sandwich typically). So I really don't think my eating habits are the culprit. They're not without fault....but let he without fault cast the first hot dog.
Exercise? Now we're talking. I've been, for lack of a better word, stationary for quite some time. About a year and a half ago I was intent on losing weight because I was in a competition with friends. A competition that I won (but have yet to receive my winnings....don't think I've forgotten). Anyway, I get bored working out. I stopped going to the gym near us because trying to find parking at the hour that I would get home was infuriating (that's right - no parking lot in an over-populated area = parking wars...and a good excuse not to workout), and, more than anything else, I'm generally a lazy person. Judge if you must.....but honesty must count for something. But in all seriousness, there's no reason that I shouldn't be doing more in the exercise department. I have plenty of excuses, and some are even legitimate, but I also have the love handles that dismiss any legitimacy of these excuses.
And so finally we come to genetics. A-HA!
Basically, if the limbs of my family tree were arteries, they would be clogged with sap. The medical background of my family is one fraught with heart disease, high blood pressure, and general cardiatric shittiness. A venerable Broken Hearts club. From grandparents to parents to aunts to uncles, I have many examples of faulty, high-maintenance tickers. Some kids are lucky enough to inherit cool old cars, vacation homes, stock holdings, or trust funds. I've inherited the likelihood of a shortened life-span, should my most vital of organs go unchecked.
So because of this shitty hand-me-down, existing warning signs, and a lifelong adoration of the almighty hot dog, I have set-up an appointment to meet with a cardiologist tomorrow to start getting everything back to a healthy balance. I'm sure this visit will lead to the prescription of medication that I will likely be on for the rest of my life, the recommendation to start exercising and losing some weight, and if I play my cards right, I'll get an early enough start so I can make it to this great hot dog place I know of in the area for lunch. Either way, it should be an interesting day.
I plan on using this Blahg! as a forum to keep track of my (hopefully) improving blood pressure levels and decreasing fat-assedness.
So for record keeping purposes:
January 25, 2010
Weight: 235 lbs
Blood Pressure: 150/110 (Let's agree to consider the 160/115 a false, or isolated high)
But to be perfectly honest I am a stubborn person by nature, and resentful of having to cut things out of my life that I get real enjoyment out of (I'm looking at you bratwurst), and I don't believe that I will ever cut anything out of my diet completely. I'll absolutely cut down on stuff, and minimize treating myself to things too often. But, I believe it was Gandhi who said "I'd rather laugh with the sinners than cry with the saints".
So wish me luck as I enter into the World of Cardiology, and do what I can to not die.....dammit.
Until later,
Blah Blah Blahg!
They say you need a big opening line to grab peoples' attention. I HAVE CANCER. How's that for a big opening? If you're still reading, I'll assume it was a sufficiently big opening. OK, the truth is...I'm lying. I don't have cancer. But the truer truth is that I am a cancer survivor...which, I think, just means that I was once diagnosed with cancer, received prolonged cancer treatments, the cancer went away, and I didn't die. Not Dying = SurvivingHowever, if I find out tomorrow that I have cancer again (beit a reappearance of the cancer "I beat", or a new form of cancer altogether) and I theoretically die of that cancer, will I still be considered a cancer survivor, or will I simply be a procrastinating victim, or is there some sort of Statute of Limitations on survivor status? And "victim" isn't the right word. The word 'victim' conjures up images of a bully's target or an icon of martyrdom. Neither of which accurately captures or defines someone diagnosed with cancer. Cancer isn't a bully. Cancer does not discriminate the way a bully does. Men and women get cancer. Cancer attacks whites, blacks, yellows and browns. Straight people get cancer, and so do gays (I don't know if trannies get cancer...but for argument sake, let's say they do). Scholars and retards get cancer. Killers and firemen, teachers and rapists, priests and rabbis and drug dealers and babies get cancer. You know who gets cancer? Oncologists get cancer. How's that for a mind fuck? None of these people are victims. They are people. You can't even say they're unlucky people. Because some of these people will survive cancer. Would you call a cancer survivor unlucky? Or would you call them lucky? Or would you just thank god it wasn't you? ( You'll notice god is not capitalized...that's another Blahg for another day). Or are the ones who die of cancer early in it's stages unlucky, or would they be luckier to die after months and years and various remissions and reoccurances? And to be a martyr implies that your fate is self-imposed. Often to illuminate injustices, or to put a face on a larger plight. A self-appointed victim. In that light of thinking, a heavy smoker who gets cancer could be considered a martyr...or, more realistically, is simply a statistic. Another 'I told you so'. They were told time and time again that smoking will lead to cancer, yet they continue on unwavering in their habit, unconvinced of their mortality. Mind you, I do not intend to come off as preachy or righteous toward idiots who smoke. I had cancer...and I will still smoke a cigarette from time to time. Does this make me more of an idiot than the idiot who never had cancer yet still smokes? No. Why? Because Oncologists Get Cancer. All it means is that anyone who smokes is an idiot because no good comes of it. Except you do look cool, and it does give you a great excuse to go talk to those chicks outside who are also smoking. Unless you're married...which I am....so I'm just in it for the looking cool part. So while I frown upon smoking as a habit (addictions are for the weak), I can understand smoking as a social crutch. Sometimes peer-pressures persist for a reason. So in retrospect, I do not feel as though I accomplished anything by "beating cancer" because, in all reality, I didn't try any more or any less than anyone who ever was or ever will be in my position. The shit in my pants was just as brown as anyone else who was told they had cancer. I just happened to have one of the good endings, and I'm thankful for it. There's something naive about applauding the efforts of these disease fighters. The doctors should be applauded. They're the ones doing their homework. I suppose, however, that their immense homes, fancy cars, and luxurious vacations are thanks enough. That reward, however, is often less fulfilling than one might assume on the surface, given the 3 hours a week they get to spend with their families, and the daily medical setbacks and patient deaths that keep their egos in check. But I can tell you from humbling experience, it's difficult to graciously accept the congratulations and 'job well done' back slaps from others when you know there's nothing you did that the 8-year old leukemia fighter isn't doing, and doing in spades. Good fortune just happened to smile upon you, a few treatments after fate gave you an atomic wedgie. I can tell you from experience, the best thing you can do is not label the person as lucky or unlucky....either way, the person doesn't want to hear your epiphany about their condition. Don't pity them and don't assume they want to talk about what they're going through, or about how they're feeling. Sometimes, the best thing you can do is to be normal, while letting it be known, subtly, that you're there for them if they need you. And finally, I'd like to take this opportunity to propose the discontinuation of the practice of applauding for people at awards shows, talk shows, or even in some business and social events, who have "beaten" cancer, or are actively fighting cancer, or any other disease for that matter. On the surface, there's something disingenuous about it. Just like you wouldn't 'Boo' the funeral of a cancer succomber, it seems detached and impersonal to cheer someone who has been lucky enough not to die from it...yet. I'll bet that person would prefer not to be isolated and publicly examined. Rather, I'll bet they'd prefer cards, emails, gift baskets, or gift certificates to pay for their chemo or radiation treatments from their loved ones and admirers. Often times, an Honorary Award recipient will be given prestigious recognition for a life's work just, coincidently, as their life is being tapped-out by some unforgiving disease. What better time than that to thrust them into the spotlight? Giving the organizer a chance to feel better about themselves for arranging this opportunity. It's a very political act for a very non-democratic disease. That being said, there's some respect that an individual actively fighting a disease deserves and earns by being a spokesperson for the disease. They do it with humility and often with no vanity. If you want to applaud these people - these fighters: the family members, the friends, the celebrities, the bums, the moguls, the nobodies, the oncologists, and the children on Earth born and unborn: DONATE TOWARDS RESEARCH AND SUPPORT. Pick your disease, pick you cause. My cause is cancer, and I'm donating to the fundraiser my wife is supporting: Cycle for Survival 2010, the indoor cycling event benefiting research at Memorial Sloan-Kettering Cancer Center (a hospital close to my heart...and optic nerve). If you'd like to donate time or money as well, please visit her fundraising site: http://mskcc.convio.net/site/TR/CycleforSurvival/AG_Cycle_Event?px=1584001&pg=personal&fr_id=1230Thanks And I apologize for the sales pitch. Blah Blah Blahg!
In the beginning there were grunts. Grunts led to words. Words to conversations. Conversations to ideas. Ideas to opinions. Opinions to self-importance. And finally, from self-importance to Blogs. To follow will be a collection of my grunts.
Having never kept a journal or a diary, I'm not too keen on documenting my every thought, action, or tidbit of presumed inspiration. To be honest, I have no clue what direction this blog will take....or how frequently it will be updated. Or if anyone besides my wife will read it with any degree of regularity (which is no certainty either).
I apologize in advance for any inappropriate content in the future....and there will be inappropriate content in the future.
For now, I'll simply thank you for reading my grunts.
Regards, Yours Truly, Sincerely,
Blah, Blah, Blahg!
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