There was a health fair at work this weekend. I decided to brave my needle phobia and get my cholesterol tested.
About a month ago I was told my cholesterol was high. Not super-high, but I still figured I needed to get that stuff under control. When I went to my regular doctor to see how to lower it, I got to wait in a freezing room for an hour and a half flipping through golf magazines from 1998 under a poster of dissected lungs so he could give the following advice:
"Just don't eat food with a lot of cholesterol in it."
Thanks, doc. Glad that cost me twenty bucks. I hope Obama socialized medicines your ass.
So for the past month I've been watching what I eat, taking these terrible fish pills, and generally avoiding dairy and cutting way down on the sweet, sweet meat.
I was supposed to see my real doctor in January, but since they were stabbing people with needles on a floor below me for free, I figured I could at least see if any of this crap had made any difference. And if it didn't, I was gonna be pissed. You know how much fun stuff I've had to pass up this month?
Anyway, it takes forever to get there in front of the lunch lady-looking nurses sharpening their needles when one of them says, "Are you OK? You look kind of pale."
I assure her I'm going to be alright and get stabbed without passing out or feeling dizzy, which might be a personal record. I should mention that this is a diabetes health fair so they're also testing for that, and I am terrified that I either have or am going to catch diabetes.
I'm not really sure where this fear comes from, possibly just the idea of getting poked with needles daily and giving up on the sweet, sweet treats is such a horrible idea of Hell that it terrifies me.
I wait around another 15 minutes or so and another lunch lady gives me my results.
"Are you taking medicine for diabetes?"
"No, I ...what?"
Somehow this was her lead-in to tell me that my glucose levels are great and I don't have anything to worry about. What the hell? Is this some sort of nurse bad news first thing they're supposed to do?
"Do you have any final words prepared for your mother?"
"Yes, I need to see her and..."
"Well, that's good, because you won't be needing them for a long time. She's perfectly healthy."
After toying with me the nurse points out that I am now the proud owner of some new and improved low cholesterol blood. Only problem is that in my zeal I've also lowered my good cholesterol.
"So what can I do to raise the good?"
"Do you eat fish?"
"My stomach is like the briny sea."
"What about exercise?"
"I'm riding my bike 10 miles a day and going to the gym three nights a week. I don't think I can squeeze anything else in there. And come on," I said, ripping off my shirt. "Does this torso look like it needs any more exercise?"
Then the nurse let down her hair and took her glasses off. It was kind of like a Van Halen video.
"Well...there is moderate alcohol use."
"Well, OK! I think we're done here."
So I've beaten cholesterol and the doctors told me I've got to get drunk regularly to avoid a heart attack? Man, they're gonna love me at this year's Christmas parties. I'll be the guy with one of those Henry VIII hunks of meat in one hand and a bottle of wine in the other.