My heart will go on

Fear not, no ocean liners (or icebergs) were harmed in the making of this post.

Those with a long memory – and perhaps a slightly obsessive interest in the author – will recall that at the end of April last year I discovered that I had low haemoglobin and should seek urgent professional medical attention.  Well, last week I finally got around to doing this – s0 well within 10 months (virtually instantaneous in geological terms) – and had various samples of my blood taken and sent off for analysis.  This was quite traumatic for me – not the blood extraction itself, this is no trouble – but the need to fast for 12 hours before hand.  As a result, my blood letting procedure was booked to be as early as possible (9am) and I planned a very major meal at 20:30 the previous e’en.  With these precautions (and pockets full of food to consume the instant my blood had been taken), I managed to make it through this very difficult time.

Well, this morning I received the results – and you may be pleased to know that I passed!  My blood is entirely normal – though my HDL (aka “good”) cholesterol is somewhat higher than the norm but this is a “good thing” (I do wonder if the medical profession are dumbing-down their analysis for our benefit) and a result of exercise.  In conjunction with my blood pressure, BMI (now a part of Lufthansa, I believe) and honest answers to the lifestyle questionnaire I can now confirm that I am officially immortal.  OK, that may be a slight exaggeration – but according to NHS statisticians I have only a 3% chance of a heart attack in the next decade (this seemed quite a big chance to me, but apparently is very low indeed).  So, any of you hoping that this stream of drivel would be brought to a sudden close by some sort of cardiac incident look likely to be disappointed.

So, it would seem that I am in excellent physical health (which I had always secretly suspected, but one doesn’t like to boast).  No test was made (or will be, if it’s up to me) of my mental health and so I continue to evade the attentions of the men (and women) in white coats, my jackets remain far from strait and walls remain unpadded.  I now feel strong enough to turn 100 (in base 7, which is NOT the same as dog years) at the weekend.  Huzzah!

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