Today, I stupidly decided to go visit the “on site” visiting work nurse to get a reading for my cholesterol, my blood pressure, and my glucose. And it’s a good thing I did that because I found out that I’m dying.
On March 28th, 2006 (yes, that’s not even two months ago) I went in for a massive stress test. I was worried about my work out heart rate and decided to go ahead and get some tests done to make sure it wasn’t going to explode. (That date, incidentally, also marks the last time I visited the gym. I am a Grade-A moron.)
Anyway, I was hooked up to those machines, they were spitting back numbers I had my blood pressure read and then some. I was shirtless at the time AND running on a treadmill with two men watching me. I felt like an ass but figured it was important. And wouldn’t you know? Things were fine. My blood pressure? Fine. My heart rate? Fine. I was FINE! FINE!
A few months before that, I had had blood drawn to make sure all was well on the Michele front. That came back FINE!
Today, I had some nurse take my blood pressure and prick my middle finger. Each appointment took 10 minutes. Mine was at 3:15 PM.
“You need an arm, right?”
“Yes.”
I pulled up my sleeve. After her eyes adjusted to the blinding light reflecting off my skin, she applied the tight Velcro thing to my arm. She put the headphones in her ear, and began to pump that black rubber thing.
She listened.
“You’re 130/90. That’s high.”
“What? You’re kidding me. I am always normal to low. I gave up coffee. I should start up again. Are you serious?”
“Yes.”
Silence. Shock. Disbelief.
All your life you get used to hearing something and then BAM! not anymore.
“Are you stressed out?”
Of course I’m stressed out, I thought. I am a graphic designer who works under unattainable deadlines.
“A little. I guess.”
“That’s probably it.”
She then pricked my middle finger. She then pushed the blood (by applying pressure to my fingertip) into a thin tube. She then took that thin tube and squirted the blood onto a black piece of plastic, which was attached to what looked to be a remote control.
“This will only take two minutes.” She said to me calmly.
I remarked about the view. “You should really reposition your chair so you can see the view.”
We laughed. Together.
“Your cholesterol is high as well.”
“What?”
“It’s 239.”
“What?”
“That’s high. But did you eat? You’re not supposed to.”
“I ate. Yes. It’s 3:15. I was hungry.”
“That could be it. Do you visit the doctor?”
“All the time.”
“And they never noticed anything before.”
“No. I was just there, too. Had an EKG and everything. My blood pressure has always been fine. Always. I’m shocked.”
“I’m sure you’re fine.”
The only good news is, is that my glucose is at 70. My glucose has been high before. Is it opposite day? Did I miss the memo? What in the hell is going on?
So, I’m 32 and I’m dying. One small prick to the “f*ck you” finger, and I find out I’m dying.
Mihow 
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