Thursday, August 25, 2005
I Got 'Dem Ol' Hypertension Blues, Mama!
Yaaaargh!
No, that's not pirate talk. Just a frustrated Crime Dog. Reaching 50 is a giant pain in the ass. Six days to go and I already don't like it.
See, I've had high blood pressure for several years. There's no rhyme or reason for it. Probably just heredity. Grandma Crime Dog had it. Gene-O, my oldest brother had it. Wayners might have it, I'm not sure. He can chime in. I used to take this one little ol' itty-bitty pill called "Univasc" every morning. It worked perfectly. I was 120/80 every day, baby.
Then they stopped making that cool itty-bitty pill. No one seems able to tell me why. I'm guessing the corporate assholes who run our lives under the guise of "just doing business" decided there wasn't enough profit in it. You know -
A million here, a million there, a mindless corporate dance. Getting paid for fucking off in the south of France.
Since then, I'm on my third medication. When I'm calm, cool, and collected, my BP hits a dazzling 155/98. So today, my doctor straps this machine to my ass and tells me to not take it off for 24 hours. This gizmo records my blood pressure about every twenty minutes and was designed by an S and M freak. The cuff is tighter than a junior-high cheerleader and threatens to pop my fingers off every time it runs. If one or more of my fingers fly across the room, then I gotta be quicker than Scully. She'll think they're dog treats.
This contraption better come off in 24 hours. On Saturday, Joe E is taking me to play golf, and we have a pool party afterwards. I'm guessing this thing won't work real well under water.
So on my way out of the doctor's office, I made an observation: Here I got R2D2 strapped to my ass, I got a colonoscopy scheduled next month, I gotta get lab work done by some vampire in scrubs, and then I gotta come back and get poked and prodded in places only The Fetching Mrs Crime Dog is entitled to. "You're just a real fun gal," I told her.
She punched me in the shoulder.
Now I'll probably need a head shrinker to help me deal with getting bitch-slapped by a 5'-2", 110lb Filipino woman.
Oh well, at least she has small fingers. I got that going for me.
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No, that's not pirate talk. Just a frustrated Crime Dog. Reaching 50 is a giant pain in the ass. Six days to go and I already don't like it.
See, I've had high blood pressure for several years. There's no rhyme or reason for it. Probably just heredity. Grandma Crime Dog had it. Gene-O, my oldest brother had it. Wayners might have it, I'm not sure. He can chime in. I used to take this one little ol' itty-bitty pill called "Univasc" every morning. It worked perfectly. I was 120/80 every day, baby.
Then they stopped making that cool itty-bitty pill. No one seems able to tell me why. I'm guessing the corporate assholes who run our lives under the guise of "just doing business" decided there wasn't enough profit in it. You know -
A million here, a million there, a mindless corporate dance. Getting paid for fucking off in the south of France.
Since then, I'm on my third medication. When I'm calm, cool, and collected, my BP hits a dazzling 155/98. So today, my doctor straps this machine to my ass and tells me to not take it off for 24 hours. This gizmo records my blood pressure about every twenty minutes and was designed by an S and M freak. The cuff is tighter than a junior-high cheerleader and threatens to pop my fingers off every time it runs. If one or more of my fingers fly across the room, then I gotta be quicker than Scully. She'll think they're dog treats.
This contraption better come off in 24 hours. On Saturday, Joe E is taking me to play golf, and we have a pool party afterwards. I'm guessing this thing won't work real well under water.
So on my way out of the doctor's office, I made an observation: Here I got R2D2 strapped to my ass, I got a colonoscopy scheduled next month, I gotta get lab work done by some vampire in scrubs, and then I gotta come back and get poked and prodded in places only The Fetching Mrs Crime Dog is entitled to. "You're just a real fun gal," I told her.
She punched me in the shoulder.
Now I'll probably need a head shrinker to help me deal with getting bitch-slapped by a 5'-2", 110lb Filipino woman.
Oh well, at least she has small fingers. I got that going for me.
