The Emerald Rose

   Well this morning I had to leave early and head out to the lab for my “blood tests”. Let me back up, last April I had an appoointlent for my annual physical, nice Doc, everything seemed ok, just a little stress from the job (Doc actually offered to call my boss and tell him he was stressing me) but I opted to let him put me on two little high blood pressure pills a day instead of 1 (Works for me better price break on re-fills!) Needless to say Mr. Guinness perscribed his own “Blood Pressure Adjustment Program”. I continued to take my 20 milligrams of Cozaar in the morning, wne tthrough my usual “dealing with the inmates” day, then went to the Pub and had two, and on a particularly stressing day, three pints of Vitamin G (Guinness of course) I would then come home, very rarely later than 6pm. sit down and take my blood pressure readings, and guess what? They were always nice and low, ie. “118/76”, “120/79”, etc. If I took the second pill of the day I’d be pushing up daiseys by 8 at night. But I’m cool with that, not the daiseys, but the Guinness protocol. But the Doc was worried about the stree I guess, cause he decides instead of waiting til next April he’d have me back  and see me  in August. Woke up last week, the Blackberry goes “ding”, “ding” “ding”, “Appointment for Blood work 8 a.m. Monday 8/11/08”. Called the Coc’s office and said “You guys send the lab the orders for my blood test?” Of course they were doing that “later this afternoon”,….so I got a 50/50 chance they will.

       Anyhow went to the lab this morning, got to watch two full half hour “Headline News” segments before they called my name. Like the rest of the lemmings I follow the nurse through the door (how come at least ten folks have gone in before me but I haven’t seen any of them come out ?) Sit down and she goes to banging on the computer and prints out this page, “Ah, here we are the orders for your test.” (Have to compliment the Doc on his staffs efficiency) I am looking all arounf to see what’s new you know the dumb bored thing, and the nurse is poking around my elbow, or “palpitating a vein” while I got to squeeze “Mr. Hulk” a green thing about as big as a softball. Finally she’s happy, and ties me up with the rubber strap thing. (Having been an EMT in another life I’d have tied the strap thing first, veins bulge by themselves.)

        Now I am an incredible woose, I can’t stand the sight of needles, but when my wife had to go To Boston a few months ago I had a nasty choice to face. Either give her damn cat his daily insulin shots, or explain why my “sainted” cat was the opnly one alive when she got home two weeks later. Yeah, you’re right the cat can’t really bitch at me any more than he does now, besides, hopefully he has a really short term memory. I survived, and even after she came home and “unspoken understanding” seems to have prevailed at some point, and now I have to shot the cat up every morning while she curls up in bed for another hour! At least it shuts up the cat while I enjoy my first cup of coffee!

      Back to the vampire. So I’m ready and glance over at the process, she makes the “stick” it works and the vial fills up. She does a second vial, then a third, (what the …….?) Then she does a fourth! “You are leaving some of that for my body aren’t you?” says I. Only one more she tell me, and pops the fifth one on. I’m filling them up like a Coca Cola bottling plant, ..and she finally finishes. She was really good, no leaks, no black and blues,….cool, I always love a good vampire.

     “So what kind of tests we need with all five of those vials?” asks I.

     “Oh the usual ALFM, Qrtz, Xyhs, lipids (I understood that one!), and liver enzymes (ding ding ding, we have a winner….the “you need to cut back on the number of beers you have” test. ) But what will happen if I do? My freakin’ blood pressure will go off the charts , I’ll have to take more pills, ,more often, I will have to eat more (well if you don’t have a drink, what’s your other alternative?) And of course if you eat more you become more “obese” (and I hate that word, all I can picture is the 1000 pound dude getting lowered out his bedroom window by the Fire Department, man was meant to have an “investment symbol”  after 50 years of age, it’s not a “beer gut” like the uninformed call it!)

     “Shit.” I’m muttering going back to my car, “another beer lecture, the wife musta put him up to this, I take all the herbal supplements and stuff to negate the beer’s “bad effects”, and I know my metabolism is significanyly lower at 63 so the food I eat is immediately turned into “blubber” and doesn’t get a chance to “zip” right through the system cause it’s liquid 🙂 , you know?

      Well I’ll let you know next Monday after we get the lectures, oh yea, he opted to postpone the old “turn around and bend over” part from last April til next week. Be still my heart! almost want to go get a tatoo on my ass that says “watch out for alligators”

    (Oh, and Coffeepot, -30- used to be an old newspaper writers and columnists way of indicating where the story ended for the typesetters. It has fallen out of use in the last forty years of so, but I still like to see who’s awake and reading with “avid interest and open curiosity. 🙂 )