I bought myself a little "gift" last month. I wasn't going to buy this thing that many other people already have. I hate doing what the crowd does. I don't like going with the general flow. I choose to be an outlier. That must be why I have gray hair that you can take from me only when you can pry it from my cold, dead follicles.
EMBRACE THE GRAY!
Off topic. Getting back on topic.
So, I have been to three different doctors in the past 2 months to check up on and look at and scope out various things. I went to see Dr. O'Brien about the lump that is on my left arm, right below the elbow. It has been there for, oh heck I have no idea how long. It is in a weird place and I just didn't notice it. But when I did.....to the doc I went. He looked at it, wiggled it a bit and said, "It's just a lipoma. If you were a member of my family I would just tell you to leave it alone."
OK. I am good with that. I have named him Reginald. He has been asking for an Instagram account of his own but I have resisted.....for the moment. HOWEVER, now that Instagram will let me toggle between up to 5 different accounts I might have to rethink this.
Then there was the Colonoscopy. No need to discuss that further, you can read all about the colonic antics on that blog post.
Then there was the quick and precise gynecological exam with Dr. B.
Dr. B: How have you been?
Me: Fine. Can't complain.
Dr. B: Strip down and lets see what's what. No uterus. Check! No cervix. Check! Still have knobbly boobs. Check! Here is your order for a mammogram. I am moving to Florida. See one of my colleagues when you come in next year.
Dr. B is a woman of few words.
The mammogram doesn't need to be described either. I know I have a blog post about mammograms in general but I can't find it at the moment and my "Gigantic Excel Spreadsheet of ALL the Blog Posts" isn't done yet. Let it just be said that if men had to have the equivalent of a mammogram on their peckers then someone would come up with a less painful mammogram. I'm jusyin'. I will also say that I "failed" that mammogram and there was all the, "Oh you have to now have the more extensive mammogram because we don't have your old films and we don't like that thing that we are seeing." And the, "We called University for the old films and they don't have them and don't know you." To which I replied, "I will call them and we will see." Which I did and low and behold they DID have the old films which they sent to Cleveland Clinic where the radiologist promptly looked at them and said, "Nah, she doesn't need further tests. Her breast have always been this weird and knobbly."
The common thread through all of this little medical journey was....my weight and my blood pressure. My weight is my weight and I am not telling you what it is and no I will not EVER diet again. My blood pressure was....elevated. Some of that has to do with the fact that when you come at me with a blood pressure cuff my BP shoots up just to be contrary. Darn BP. And some of it was not for that reason.
That is what it took for me to buy a FitBit. The fact that my blood pressure wasn't just a bit on the higher range. It was high. And I hate taking pills. And I don't like medication. And when someone tells me that I HAVE to take medication I become so non-compliant. Hey Mom, I bet you never knew that I took myself off of the Prednisone and Anadrol when I was so sick in High School, LOOOOOOONG before the docs said to taper down.
SO non-compliant. Well, all except for if I have a bladder infection. THEN I am compliant to a fault.
But when all of the medical sites that talk about what to do about elevated blood pressure tell you that upping your exercise might help....I finally had to listen. I cut down on the amount of coffee, or actually just switched to half caff and got to walking. AND lifting weights. I know, that one is still funny to me. Believe me when I tell you that I am a noodlearmed 90 pound weakling when it comes to the weight machines. But I still do them. And I am managing, not every day but most days, to get my ten thousand steps in. It usually entails being on the treadmill at 6a for 30 minutes and then another 30 minute walk when I am at work. For about the first three days I also wore it at night so that it could record my sleep. However, I have put the kabosh on that because I really don't need for it to tell me that I slept poorly and dreamed about folding stacks of tissue paper and exploding composting toilets.
That happens to everyone right? If I actually told you what some of my dreams are about you would run screaming.
But on SUNDAY I don't wear the thing because......
IT IS NOT THE BOSS OF ME.
On Sunday that is. Every other day of the week it is kicking my big fat bahookie.