Monday, August 1, 2011
You may recall my first attempt at controlling my blood pressure with medication resulted in an epic bout of dyschezia. (I know, fancy word. But so much more fun to day than "constipation".) So he switched me to another medication. After nearly a month with what seemed like the flu, Dr. Dilf told me it was a side-effect of my new medication. Seriously? He says it's very common, but insurance companies insist you prove an intolerance to the cheap stuff before they'll pay for the good stuff. Again, Seriously?
After nearly two weeks on the latest medication, all seemed fine last week when I paid my last visit to Dr. Dilf. My blood pressure looked fine and he spent the rest of his time referring me to his colleague (no name for him yet) and trying one last time to talk me into cholesterol medication. I made a lame joke asking if this means future prostate exams will be purely recreational. He chuckled like he hadn't heard that at least fifty times that week and sent me off with his biggest bear-hug ever.
My buddy Gil says I don't need medication as my blood pressure wasn't really that high to begin with. Perhaps he's right. Or perhaps he's just so competitive, he can't stand the idea of my blood pressure being better than his. My money's on the latter.
Lying on the couch Thursday night watching TV, I decided to call it a night. As I got up to turn of the lights, they went out on their own. "How odd...", I remember thinking. When the lights came back on a few seconds later, I was on the floor with my pudgy cat muzzling my forehead. I'm not sure if kitty was showing concern or assessing the feasibility of still being fed one way or another.
As I got up, nothing seemed to be broken. Then everything started going dark again. Weird. This time I held on to consciousness, barely, determined not to give that damn cat any further ideas. I sat down at the dining room table and took my blood pressure. 86 over 47. As another wave of dizziness washed over me, I thought, "Let's see Gil try to beat this!"