For sale: Runs good

I often say that once you get to forty (and for sure, PAST forty), you are like an old car. It doesn't matter how many times you are in the shop, you just don't run like you used to. Of course, cars don't gain weight at astronomical rates, nor catch glimpses of themselves in store windows and run for the candy counter. But, the analogy works on many levels...especially for ME. Having owned many old clunkers, I can tell anyone reading this that I know that I am now in the old clunker category. Paint is peeling, fuel efficiency is gone, and my tires are always low on air. (I'm now going to leave out any gas comments.)

I had my annual check-up a few days ago. By "annual", I mean once every five or six years. (Not unlike those 3,000 mile oil changes that I used to do every 10,000 miles on "old Esther"). Sigh. I've just about perfected avoiding the scale at the doctor's office. What you do is this,...cough politely, say "ahem" and launch into--"Oh, dear...I'm on a strict weight-loss program and I just cannot step foot on a strange scale. It will destroy my good attitude. You DO understand, don't you?" Since the little nurse who is weighing you will herself weigh only 100 lbs. soaking wet, she'll be nicely embarrassed for you and allow you to skip that humiliation.

Unfortunately, there is no skipping the blood pressure check.

I have SEVERE white-coat syndrome. In fact, I really think they should name it AFTER me. I see a blood pressure cuff come my way and I feel that "no symptom" high blood pressure start to rise. Last month, it broke all my personal records. My darling doctor (she looks about 18 and I have a real urge to counsel her on all things having to do with life in general, starting with not practicing medicine until you look like an actual adult), looked up in horror and ordered me to start keeping track of my blood pressure and to come back in a month. Yeah, yeah, I yawned. Seriously, it is pretty low most of the time (Rowdy Son has a magic touch when it comes to raising it, but otherwise, it's low). I sort of said I would, adding that I would bring in my at-home monitor for her to see and left it at that.

Last week I came back to see her, and my at-home monitor wouldn't even WORK in her office. It doesn't generally register that high. Darn it! I had managed not to weigh in on her scale, had even read a relatively interesting magazine during the wait, had practiced old Lamaze breathing...and still was off the charts. Girl doctor then insisted I start medication. I went along with that plan for about a day. Then I bought a new monitor, and called her. I said I would really be serious about monitoring it and I would write every reading down. PLEASE could I have two more weeks?

She said yes.

So, here I sit. I have the cutest little monitor that goes on my wrist. My bp is generally low and my spirits are pretty good. I left her office last week with promises of low-fat living, diet-keeping and exercise-starting. That was before I got my blood work back. I had already stocked up on (shudder), low-fat, heart-healthy "spread", non-fat "milk", scary "creamer", and fruits and veggies. Fruits and veggies? I like my fruit in jelly, pies and chocolate-covered. But I was trying. I even bought a heart-healthy cookbook (every single recipe in there needs more salt, that's all I have to say!).

But, on blood-work report day---the expected 350 cholesterol didn't materialize. I was a paltry three points above where I should be. Everything else was great. Even though I am positive I should have diabetes by now (I have the symptoms memorized because I am a hypochondriac and I have all of them, not to mention I find it incredibly easy to live on chocolate alone), my blood sugar was perfect.

After I called DH to tell him the miraculous news, I had a stop to make. Yeah, the grocery store. He came home to find me happily eating ice cream. "So," he said, "One good blood test and all your good intentions go out the door?". Not quite. I AM keeping track of my bp to show to Child Doctor in two weeks. I'll just have to transcribe it to another sheet of paper. I'm a bit embarrassed by the grease and candy stains on it. I guess I need to put down the brownie BEFORE I write 125/78 next time!