I’m sitting in Room #4136 of the Trinity Medical Center, waiting for the chemical stress test that’s on my schedule later today, and wondering how many needles are involved. It’s 5:13 a.m.
Just a day ago my work agenda included three news releases: one that needed just a smidge of tweaking, a second outlined and ready to launch; the third was loosie-goosie, ooie-gooie, with a bit of research done, an interview to set up and a video to watch.
But first, a doctor’s appointment at 9 a.m. You can guess what happened next …
Turns out my blood pressure was wicked high, my legs, swollen, plus I was strikingly out of breath and hacking like a two-pack-a-day smoker, though I quit that filthy habit more than four decades ago.
My wife was with me, visiting my very bright doctor who said, with uncomfortable intensity, “If he were my husband, we’d be on the way to the emergency room right now.”
And so we were …
Some observations: Trinity hospital is new, state-of-the-art; there are computers of every size and shape all over the place; the chicken Parmesan was great; the staff, super.
The needles? Not so much.
I’ve lost count how many tests they’ve done or how many they plan to do. After talking to the cardiologist, I sense there’s a “Come to Jesus Meeting” around the corner. The headline: “Change your lifestyle or die.”
My daughter Christi (who turns 40 this year) dealt me a deck of tough love.
“We want you around for a long time, Daddy,” she said, sternly. “You have a lot more left to do.”
Ouch!
So, OK. Got to change. Eat better. Exercise more. Sit less. All the usual suspects.
Question is: Will I do it?
Might have to; might not have a choice.
“The Lady or the Tiger?”
I’ll let you know how things turn out.
From my iPhone.
