Reluctant Checkup

Dearest Rachel –

Today’s main event was not my idea. You remember full well that I was never much for annual physicals. Unless there was something noticeably wrong with me (and to be sure, there is, as the moment – more on that later, assuming it’s resolved), all that a visit to the doctor would tell me was everything I already knew; I was just on the borderline between healthy and unhealthy on virtually every metric, and if I would just watch what I ate (and not just so that I don’t miss my mouth with my fork) and exercise on a regular basis, that could be addressed. None of which sounded like any fun to deal with, from either my perspective or yours (as you would have to prepare those healthier meals, which you were no more keen on than I).

There was also the matter of having to take time off of work in order to get said physical taken care of, and between deadlines and assignments, I had trouble enough getting time for vacations and the like. Why would I want to take time off for something that was the antithesis of fun, both in the moment and in his instructions for the future? No, thank you. And so I went for probably almost a decade without bothering with any such medical intervention.

But somewhere along the line, HR intervened; probably after the merger. They held some kind of competition between departments, as to which one could get the largest percentage of their staff (in both the Detroit and Chicago headquarters, as well as the various service branches) to get their physicals one year. Mohinder made it clear that I was the lone holdout in Finance, and I was making him look bad – and, ironically, ruining his blood pressure – as a result. After at least a week of berating me on the subject (HR was good at offering carrots – they even offered a gift card for everyone as an incentive to take their physical, which, by the way, I never got around to using until I took the gang out to dinner at that shabu-shabu place you never got to see – but all Mohinder knew how to use was the stick), I finally made the appointment to go in.

And that’s when I was informed that I was the one with high blood pressure, not Mohinder (well, I suppose I can’t speak for him – HIPAA rules and all that – but that may have been bluster on his part, whereas I was medically confirmed to have it). I was prescribed medication, much to my dismay – you might remember my bemoaning the fact that I would probably be on the stuff for the rest of my life, since it’s not as if you get healthier as you age, after all – and I’ve been taking the stuff ever since. Ironically, it’s the one thing that’s gotten me into the habit of making a regular (if not quite annual) visit to the doctor these days; our pharmacy will only allow me to renew the prescription so many times without making an appointment to see him to confirm that I still need it, even though he’s never given any indication that I would ever be able to get off of it. I’d say Mohinder would be pleased, but I doubt he would really care even if I was still working under him. Besides, he’d probably tell me it was my fault for being so insubordinate.

It’s only in the last year or so, during my walks with Lars, that I’ve gotten even the slightest glimmer of hope that this need for medication – even the one having to do with my newly–discovered esophageal issues – need not be a permanent thing, after all. It’s part of why he’s become an accountability partner toward me getting regular exercise by walking at least once a week (although he’s also been more than encouraging about my getting involved at the park district gym). If I can get down to my goal weight of 230 (well, actually, he’s thinking more along the lines of 220, but sees no reason why I need to stop at that point), it’s more than possible that I could set those aside going forward – although I think he would want me to continue my daily regimen of Vitamins C and D, at any rate. Especially the latter, as there’s no guarantee of getting enough sunlight, particularly during these winter months.

It’s one more reason to strive for that more ideal weight, along with the faint hope of being able to attract Megumi to my side. Less weight means fewer other health complications that require pharmaceutical remedies.

Speaking of such remedies, that’s another reason I’m not particularly keen on seeing my primary care physician. The last time we spoke, he was, yet again, encouraging me strongly to get myself another Covid booster. Now, you and I were never keen on even such things as the flu shot – you would always complain about, whenever you broke down and got one, you would actually get the flu shortly thereafter, if only a mild form of it – somehow, and given Daniel’s bent toward certain sources of information (which you would be stuck listening to more often that I am), you would probably agree with me that it’s not something any of us want to be coerced into; consider how much I still speak of Mohinder’s efforts at it.

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However, it turns out that he said absolutely nothing about the Covid booster. I can’t recall if it was him talking about the flu shot or the nurse that prepped me (weight – which was at least under 260, even with clothes on – blood pressure, pulse and all that), but whoever it was didn’t press the matter when I demurred on the offer. So maybe things are getting back to normal… apart from still having to wear masks, despite knowing better about Covid these days. I suppose it may still reduce things with regard to other illnesses, so, better safe than sorry?

I even got some blood drawn, since that hasn’t been done since last May, and apart from the paperwork having to be done before drawing the blood (which only extends the anticipatory period before administering the needle, making it that much worse – the actual draw isn’t the problem, it’s the buildup, which rather sums up a lot of life’s little worries, when you think about it). Should be interesting to see what comes of it.

He also prescribed that I get some ear drops for the sensation of blockage (and the slight tinnitus) in my left ear (despite not seeing any wax buildup in either one), although he recommended I use it in both ears, commenting that Q-tips are not meant to get wax out. He even used the line about not sticking anything in my ear other than my elbow, while acknowledging that it’s one that usually is recited by old grannies. Sometimes, I guess those old wives were onto something.

Anyway, that’s over and done with, and I can get on with my day… which really only involves another walk with Lars, as opposed to spending time in the ‘office.’ Then again, would I really be doing anything productive there today?

I’ll keep in touch, honey. Until then, keep an eye on me, and wish me luck; I’m going to need it.