26 September 2006
someone, the elusive they, sponsored wellness day at work today. [okay, not so elusive, it was our personnel department (elusive they sounds much more mysterious and intriguing.)]
Participation strongly encouraged, I signed up for the 10 minute procedure which tests blood (a tiny finger prick) for cholesterol, diabetes (glucose level), blood pressure, and other such things.
True confessions: I think I'm healthy. I gave blood three weeks ago and tested some of the above. My cholesterol has previously been low and good. I wasn't worried. I wasn't nervous.
Perhaps I was overly confident?
The test results determine: I'm unwell. (Clearly people could argue they've known this about me for years. Please resist. I'm feeling a bit fragile.)
(Warning: the next paragraph may be really boring and force one to read the word cholesterol repeatedly.) That is to say, my total cholesterol is low, but my good cholesterol is not high enough, and so my total cholesterol ratio is nearly dangerous.
My blood pressure, which two weeks ago was plenty low, and normally tests good and low, registered just above the desired number, which in essence designates me in a risk zone.
My heart rate elevates dangerously as I type this.
The nurse asked me if I was nervous to be tested. (I think, "not even slightly, b/c i'm so healthy.") She asked if perhaps some of this is genetic. She asked if I ate good foods and exercised.
I don't like the label or implication or judgment.
So, I pursue the timeless, faithful remedy, I reach for a dark dove chocolate, read the dove promise (which reads "don't think about it too much"), and savor every satisfying taste.