Several years ago I bought one of those portable blood pressure monitors. Hypertension runs in the family, so it seemed wise to keep an eye on it. Sure enough, despite my unusually healthy lifestyle, the monitor said I was on the borderline of high blood pressure. Not quite enough to get pills, but enough to keep an eye on it. Damned genetics!
Since then I’ve been feeling like a time bomb. Hypertension is called the “silent killer” and it seemed as if every time I got on the tennis court it could be my last. Whenever I sprinted after a drop shot I would tell myself to enjoy it because I’d be taking a dirt nap by the end of the week. I was dead man walking.
Recently I checked my blood pressure again and was horrified to see that I had shot past the borderline of hypertension and was well within the “prepare your will” category. The end was near. Suddenly food tasted better and I was filled with extra love for others. I put together my bucket list and set up an appointment with my doctor to see how long I had to live.
Yesterday my doctor checked me out and told me that my blood pressure is completely normal and always has been. Those little blood pressure monitors are not accurate. Apparently a vegetarian diet and regular exercise actually works. My cholesterol barely registered.
The news of my perfect health was strangely disappointing. I spent half an hour arguing with my doctor that there must be something pill-worthy about me. But I left empty-handed.
I shared the good news with my parents by e-mail. Mom told me she had once rushed Dad to the hospital on a holiday because their portable blood pressure monitor indicated his blood pressure was off the chart. His turned out to be normal too.
Apparently more than hypertension runs in my family.