Chapter 3 #2
Dr. Barrett sits back in his chair and looks at me earnestly. “As you probably know, your blood pressure’s a little above target,” he says matter-of-factly. We’d like to see it under 130/80.”
“Really?” I ask. “I thought the target was 140/90.”
I thought Dr. Barrett looked too young. Maybe he’s not actually a doctor.
“It used to be 140/90, but the guidelines changed last year,” he explains. “We usually suggest people try lifestyle changes first, before thinking about medication.”
“Lifestyle changes,” I repeat.
“Yep,” Dr. Barrett nods. “Diet and exercise can have a big impact. We recommend at least thirty minutes of moderate-intensity exercise three to five times per week.”
“I exercise for an hour every day, unless I’m on call. Treadmill and weights.” It’s an hour I can barely spare, but I know how important it is. You can’t expect your body to perform if you don’t look after it.
Barrett nods thoughtfully. “Maybe you should try something less intense. Join your sister for yoga or something.”
Sure. I’ll pop in for yoga right after I meet with my quilting circle.
“I’ll keep that in mind, yeah. But I don’t think stress is a big issue.”
He raises an eyebrow but doesn’t argue. “In terms of diet, I’d recommend cutting out salt and processed foods.”
“Okay. Sure, I’ll work on that.” I doubt this guy would believe me if I told him I have the healthiest diet of anyone I know. I even gave up caffeine, because of the fucking tremor.
So why is my blood pressure so high?”
“And sleep is important, obviously,” Barrett continues. “How are you sleeping?”
“Uh, probably not enough,” I admit. “Things are pretty busy at work right now.”
“Yeah, I get that,” Barrett says. “We’re all busy, but you need to make your own health a priority. I’m sure there are a ton of demands on your time, but you have to learn to say no.”
“Right. Okay.”
“I think that covers it,” Barrett says, tapping away at his computer. “I’ll order some routine lab work. We also routinely screen for sexually transmitted infections.”
“There’s really no need for that.” I had a colleague run tests for me a year ago, after Elyse and I split up, because I wondered if she’d been cheating. But I was clean then, and there hasn’t been anyone since.
Dr. Barrett raises an eyebrow. “I’d still recommend the testing. It’s non-invasive, and you never know.”
“Sure.” Although I’m fairly sure I’d know if I’d had sex since I was last tested; I’ve always thought sex was a bit overhyped, but I don’t think I’d forget having had it.
But I’d rather not get into the details of my sexual history with Dr. Barrett. He probably wouldn’t believe me if I did, and I guess I can’t blame him. People lie about this kind of thing all the time.
“Oh, I have a patient who needs spine surgery,” Dr. Barrett says casually, as he hands me the lab requisition. “Really nice woman. She’s booked to see one of your colleagues, but not for a couple months. Any chance you could see her sooner?”
“Probably not. My wait time’s at least six months right now.”
Dr. Barrett frowns. “So there’s no way you could squeeze her in?”
I guess when he suggested I learn to say no, he didn’t mean I should I start today.
“Yeah, sure.” He didn’t give me grief for showing up seven minutes late to this appointment, so I guess I can do him a favor. “Have your admin send another referral with a note that you spoke to me.”
“Thanks, man. Stop at the desk and book a follow-up in a month, okay? We can review your bloodwork, and I want to keep an eye on your blood pressure. If it’s still high, we’ll have to talk about meds.”
“Sure thing.”
But I hustle out to my car without stopping to book a follow-up. I’ll get the bloodwork done, sure, but I can check my own results through the lab’s online patient portal.
And I’ll monitor my own blood pressure at work. There’s no reason to go back to see Dr. Barrett.
I barely make it back to my condo before my phone rings. To no one’s surprise, it’s my sister.
“So, did you make it to the appointment?” Breanna asks.
“Of course I did. I said I would, didn’t I?”
I can imagine Breanna rolling her eyes. “So how’d it go?”
“Great.” I grab a prepared dinner from the fridge, stab a hole in the plastic film, and stick it in the microwave.
I recently started using a service that delivers a week’s worth of single-serve meals every Wednesday, and it’s been a game-changer.
All the food tastes kind of the same, but it’s better than anything I’d make myself.
“And what did the doctor say?” she prods.
“That I was lucky to have a sister to nag me to go for a check-up.”
“Drew,” she chides again. “I’m serious. You’re good?”
“Breanna, I’m probably the healthiest guy he saw all day.” I can say this without too much guilt, because it’s probably true. Apart from my borderline blood pressure, I’m very healthy.
“That’s good,” Breanna says, and her sigh of relief makes me feel guilty for giving her a hard time. “It’s just—I worry about you sometimes.”
“I know you do, Bree.”
“What did you think of Kristin?” she asks casually.
Damn. I can usually spot one of my sister’s matchmaking attempts from a mile away, but I missed that one. I must really be losing my edge.
“She seemed competent,” I say innocently. “Checked me in very efficiently.”
“And?” Breanna says suggestively. “She’s pretty, huh?”
“Yeah, gorgeous,” I deadpan. “I couldn’t resist her, actually. I lured her into one of the exam rooms—or maybe she lured me, I can’t remember. You can expect a wedding invitation in a couple of weeks.”
“Drew,” Breanna chides with a laugh. “I just thought you might be good together.”
“You know, Breanna, if your goal was to set me up with Kristin, you could have just invited us both for dinner and spared me the doctor’s appointment.”
“Okay,” Breanna counters. “Come for dinner, then, and I’ll invite Kristin. Would Thursday work?”
Shit. I walked into that one. “I’m not looking for a relationship, Bree.”
“Drew,” she says gently. “Not all women are like Elyse.”
Breanna thinks I was devastated when Elyse broke up with me, and that’s why I haven’t dated anyone since. I haven’t corrected her; if I told her I don’t want to date because I don’t have time, she’d lecture me for working too much.
And if I admitted that Elyse dumped me because I missed her birthday dinner, Breanna would probably ream me out for that too.
I’d stayed late to help a colleague with a difficult meningioma case.
But I wasn’t on call, and the person who was on call could have helped instead. Elyse knew it, and I knew she knew it.
And maybe subconsciously I wanted her to end it.
“So dinner Thursday?” Breanna prompts.
“Listen, Bree,” I say, “I’m sure Kristin’s a really nice girl, and I don’t want to give her the wrong idea.”
“Okay, Drew. If I promise not to invite Kristin, will you come?”
“Thursday’s not the greatest,” I say apologetically. “It’s an OR day, and I have to finish a research abstract by Friday.”
“Next Monday, then? I’ll make chicken parm.”
My sister makes the best chicken parmigiana in the world.
“Yeah, Monday’s good. Love you, Bree.”