Not a Fluke: A Series

I went to the doctor today. I'm just barely shy of the cusp of men who have to bend over and sing "Moon River" whenever they visit a MD. Mine was a followup for my moderately high blood pressure, thankfully sans the gratuitous rectal/prostate exam.

At the nurse screening, I stepped on the scale. It read 199. I'm still reeling from weighing in less than 200 pounds, so much so I assumed the scale at the gym was malfunctioning. Turns out it's not. I am a wisp of my former self.

She also took my blood pressure. Last checkup, my systolic (the top number) was around 150, my diastolic (the bottom) 65. The top number had my doctor all in a tizzy. I've been on quinapril for three years now and when he saw my 150 systolic, he doubled my dosage, ordered me to exercise, and eat less salt.

I did all that and today my blood pressure came in at a staggering 120/66. I don't think I've ever seen my doctor smile, but today he was all grins.

So was I.

I hit the gym again this afternoon. Lifting 185 eight times was also not a fluke. I only managed three reps of 195 though. I got a tetanus shot in my left arm, a flu shot in my right, so my upper shoulder region was unusually stiff and unresponsive.

That didn't keep the honnies away. Once again, scantily clad females harassed me on my way out to the truck. I'm going to have to start wearing bulky, saggy gym clothes to help ward them off better. If that's even possible which I seriously doubt.