Under Pressure
Jul. 3rd, 2008 12:35 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
penfield"There is more to life than increasing its speed."
- Mohandas "The Mahatma" Gandhi
I don't have high blood pressure, yet. Let's just say that it is "elevated," like our current Department of Homeland Security National Threat Advisory status.
I discovered this while at home with my family, and every time I tried on my father's electronic blood pressure cuff smoke started screaming out of it. The development puzzled me; not only has my blood pressure been good, historically, but I have few other risk factors: I'm not obese, a smoker, a drinker, over 40 or an African-American. In fact, my hypertensive co-worker used to use me to calibrate her own sphygmomanometer, after which she would usually walk away cursing.
But the numbers don't lie. And even if they did, you have to take stuff like that seriously. High blood pressure is an early warning bell for bummers like stroke, congestive heart failure, death and/or erectile dysfunction. So I promised my folks that when I got back into town I would have my doctor check me out.
As I waited in the lobby for my appointment yesterday morning, I watched a nurse in scrubs walk by with her breakfast in a McDonalds bag. Mine is a pretty good doctors' office, but I have to admit some concern with any health care institution in which McDonalds breakfast doesn't psychologically resemble a loaded shotgun.
Before long my nurse "Doris" was weighing me and checking my vitals -- including my blood pressure, which measured at a prototypically normal 120/80. When I explained to her that I was visiting the doctor because of concerns about my blood pressure, she launched into a five-minute missive about taking better care of myself.
Now, I realize that this may well alienate up to one-quarter of my reading audience, but: I was not at all pleased to be lectured by a nurse who (a) hadjust met me, (b) had not reviewed my chart, (c) in fact needed to look through my chart four times before she could even tell me the date of my last physical, and (d) just five seconds previously had told me that my blood pressure was absolutely normal. It's not that I don't value the nursing profession -- I happen to think they are underappreciated members of the health care force. But Doris' opinion was at least significantly uninformed and unsolicited. So I mostly just nodded and waited for her to leave me alone.
Eventually the doctor came in and we had a nice, long discussion about cardiovascular health. He measured my blood pressure twice personally (135/90, both times), ordered an EKG (incidentally, not fun for individuals with copious chest hair) and some rudimentary blood tests (administered by Doris, who complained that I had not drank enough water before coming into the doctor's office at 8:15 a.m.). And he set me on a course of treatment to reach a normal blood pressure goal:
Monitor my blood pressure regularly with my own blood pressure cuff, and keep a journal of my readings. Today I went out and bought my own OMRON HEM-637, since my FSA administrator informed me that my preferred housecall nursing service is "for entertainment purposes only."
A low-salt diet, meaning less than 2 grams of sodium per day. I hadn't expected the treatment to require any math. Also, you'd be surprised how much sodium is in, say, a slice of bread. And I am afraid to even look at a can of soup, lest my heart explode out of my chest like the creature in Alien.
Aerobic exercise, at least 15-20 minutes four to five times per week. This shouldn't be so difficult, considering that I already do 20-40 minutes of exercise two to three times per week. This also means that I have a nominally medical reason to get out of my office and walk around once a day.
Lose ten pounds or so, which is a good idea for all sorts of reasons. Of course, if it were that easy, I would have done it in time for bikini season.
So, my body is finally wearing down. I can't eat a whole bag of cheddar-cheese popcorn in one sitting anymore, or go weeks without exercising, or continue buying new pants when I can't fit into the old ones. But I can still lead a fun and productive life and keep my blood pressure under control.
As long as I don't have to deal with Doris.
- Mohandas "The Mahatma" Gandhi
I don't have high blood pressure, yet. Let's just say that it is "elevated," like our current Department of Homeland Security National Threat Advisory status.
I discovered this while at home with my family, and every time I tried on my father's electronic blood pressure cuff smoke started screaming out of it. The development puzzled me; not only has my blood pressure been good, historically, but I have few other risk factors: I'm not obese, a smoker, a drinker, over 40 or an African-American. In fact, my hypertensive co-worker used to use me to calibrate her own sphygmomanometer, after which she would usually walk away cursing.
But the numbers don't lie. And even if they did, you have to take stuff like that seriously. High blood pressure is an early warning bell for bummers like stroke, congestive heart failure, death and/or erectile dysfunction. So I promised my folks that when I got back into town I would have my doctor check me out.
As I waited in the lobby for my appointment yesterday morning, I watched a nurse in scrubs walk by with her breakfast in a McDonalds bag. Mine is a pretty good doctors' office, but I have to admit some concern with any health care institution in which McDonalds breakfast doesn't psychologically resemble a loaded shotgun.
Before long my nurse "Doris" was weighing me and checking my vitals -- including my blood pressure, which measured at a prototypically normal 120/80. When I explained to her that I was visiting the doctor because of concerns about my blood pressure, she launched into a five-minute missive about taking better care of myself.
Now, I realize that this may well alienate up to one-quarter of my reading audience, but: I was not at all pleased to be lectured by a nurse who (a) hadjust met me, (b) had not reviewed my chart, (c) in fact needed to look through my chart four times before she could even tell me the date of my last physical, and (d) just five seconds previously had told me that my blood pressure was absolutely normal. It's not that I don't value the nursing profession -- I happen to think they are underappreciated members of the health care force. But Doris' opinion was at least significantly uninformed and unsolicited. So I mostly just nodded and waited for her to leave me alone.
Eventually the doctor came in and we had a nice, long discussion about cardiovascular health. He measured my blood pressure twice personally (135/90, both times), ordered an EKG (incidentally, not fun for individuals with copious chest hair) and some rudimentary blood tests (administered by Doris, who complained that I had not drank enough water before coming into the doctor's office at 8:15 a.m.). And he set me on a course of treatment to reach a normal blood pressure goal:
Monitor my blood pressure regularly with my own blood pressure cuff, and keep a journal of my readings. Today I went out and bought my own OMRON HEM-637, since my FSA administrator informed me that my preferred housecall nursing service is "for entertainment purposes only."
A low-salt diet, meaning less than 2 grams of sodium per day. I hadn't expected the treatment to require any math. Also, you'd be surprised how much sodium is in, say, a slice of bread. And I am afraid to even look at a can of soup, lest my heart explode out of my chest like the creature in Alien.
Aerobic exercise, at least 15-20 minutes four to five times per week. This shouldn't be so difficult, considering that I already do 20-40 minutes of exercise two to three times per week. This also means that I have a nominally medical reason to get out of my office and walk around once a day.
Lose ten pounds or so, which is a good idea for all sorts of reasons. Of course, if it were that easy, I would have done it in time for bikini season.
So, my body is finally wearing down. I can't eat a whole bag of cheddar-cheese popcorn in one sitting anymore, or go weeks without exercising, or continue buying new pants when I can't fit into the old ones. But I can still lead a fun and productive life and keep my blood pressure under control.
As long as I don't have to deal with Doris.
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Nursing perspective
Date: 2008-07-04 03:29 pm (UTC)