You may remember that I celebrated my 50th birthday this year, and as such I appear to have managed to dodge the NHS Health Check for 10 years now. This is not intentional, while I loathe smear tests (sorry gents) and am looking forward to loathing the boob squash (again, sorry) I am greatly in favour of them in an objective way.
So I trotted up expecting the usual: units per week negotiation (yes I know I drink way too much, I have given up about 10 times already this year, do you want me to do it again?), being just on 25 BMI, perfect blood pressure, perfect cholesterol.
My cholesterol was spookily perfect for someone who counts cheese as a major food group but I had high blood pressure (the shock of which was enough to etc etc…). For years it has been 110/70 and now it is something silly that I can’t remember. The nurse suggested I cut down on salt and have it re-tested next week. I did admit to having quite a lot of salt in my diet (bit not to the extent of confessing it as the second major food group, but only when coating bar snacks, in butter or on caramel).
My knee-jerk reaction is that it is the anti-depressants that I am on at the mo, because my heart rate has been a good 10-15 bpm over expected since I started on them. Interestingly (and sorry, I am rambling) I visited the Runners World forum, always my 2nd or 3rd stop when facing something medication or health-based as a lot of NHS staff hang around. And it turns out that beta-blockers (which I took for shaky hands/anxiety in 2012-3) are a no-no for runners. May have explained part of the whole wheezathon thing. So I will do the whole salt-deprivation escapade, but try to see my GP (a thing that is easy to type, but not to achieve) next week.
But anyway. Here I am, typing a blog post without a peanut. Sigh.We’ll see. 4 miles today, very nice, getting a bit autumnal though.
It was not me that cruelly disinterred the toadstool, I just recorded its discomfort.