Short story:
I have high blood pressure. It will be okay.
Full story:
I went to Greenville last Thursday to a Blood Connection sponsored blood drive with the intention of donating a pint of my vital fluid. I was looking forward to it because I hadn't given blood in quite a while -- since college to be exact. I began giving blood in high school and had done it regularly ever since, so the act is certainly nothing new to me. I had even recruited five of my friends to donate as well, so they all met at my house after work that evening to eat a little food.
We sat around my living room, eating PB&Js and sippin' some OJ. Two of my friends were new to everyone else, but after initial introductions, common interests were sparked and thus began conversations about our thoughts and opinions of the TV series Lost. With our hungers soon satiated, we packed into two cars and headed for the blood drive destination -- the Haywood Mall.
[fast forward forty-five minutes through a calm and uneventful drive to the mall]
We entered the mall from Belk's which was right next to where the donation center was located. A path was made through the aisles of clothing, perfumes and scents, and makeup counters while listening to 90s pop/rock genres pumped over the muzak system. The short stroll led us directly to our destination and we were all soon filling out forms of personal information and HIPPA release papers. The room was filled with phlebotomists who were hurriedly, yet methodically, performing the blood extraction process on the willing and eligible patients. It was only a few minutes before I was first called back to meet with the nurse who is required to do the initial testing and finger pricking and ask the essential questions to ensure I and my blood are healthy enough to donate. I made it through the finger prick and the 1,001 seemingly irrelevant questions (at least, irrelevant in my case) without any issues. What I did not expect, and unfortunately did not pass, was the blood pressure test. The nurse put on the cuff and began inflating the utility while asking me the irrelevant questions. Once the last of the essential questions were asked, she followed up with one more, eyebrows raised: "Honey, what is up with your blood pressure?!"
Normal, or rather ideal, blood pressure is understood to be 120/80. According to this nurse, my readings from the blood pressure cuff were 168/118. Astronomically high for a relatively healthy [read: does not smoke, does not drink, & is not fat] male only twenty-six years of age. I do not remember what the pulse was, but I know it was above normal also. Further, I was informed that with those numbers, I'm borderline stroke/heart attack. Finally, the nurse told me with her serious face: "Go see your doctor tomorrow."
She had me go back and sit down in the waiting area to perhaps let my body relax some (though I had no anxiety or hadn't done anything strenuous before going in) and said she would test it again in ten minutes to see if it drops within an acceptable range. The second results were indeed less, but still alarming to her and certainly still not eligible for donation.
"Holy crap. I'm borderline dead.", I ponder as I sit there in front of the snack/drink/pizza table where people were gathering food after their donation was complete. I had known since high school that my blood pressure was a little high. The nurses have always been a little surprised and told me it seems a little high for my age, even all through college. But I've never been denied as a donor. And I've never been advised to go see my doctor. And I certainly had never been told I'm borderline stroking out. Naturally, I was a little bummed out and quite worried.
[fast forward through the long holiday weekend to Tuesday]
I met with Dr. Bingham who is now my family physician, thanks to my boss. My reading at the doctors office was substantially lower than the alarming numbers recorded the previous Thursday, but unfortunately was still too high. Dr. Bingham questioned the validity of their reading though and said that I am not about to stroke out or have a heart attack. He combated a lot of that scare and ensured me it wasn't as big of a deal as they made it out to be, especially since I feel completely fine. The doctor still felt it necessary to perform an EKG, however, since it is a little unusual for someone under the age of thirty to be diagnosed with high blood pressure.
An EKG consisted of me having metal leads attached to my bare chest and two on my legs while multiple dongle like clips attached to the leads to measure the electrical activity in my body and report back any abnormalities. The nurse got everything hooked up, and did something on her computer to start the test, but nothing happened. She was getting no readings at all. Jokingly I asked, "So...does this mean I am dead?". She remained curiously focused though, and I believe the humor in my joke went unnoticed. I then raised my legs and asked "aren't these supposed to be hooked up too?". She had forgotten to hook up those leads to her machine, and that was apparently the missing link. After that, her computer screen populated with multiple seemingly meaningless squiggly lines that somehow tells them what my kidneys and other internal organs are up to. Moments later, the nurse came back and said everything checks out just fine on the EKG, so there is nothing extra to worry about. Dr. Bingham simply prescribed me some inexpensive blood pressure medicine and said we'd follow up in a month on my progress.
I have since found out that high blood pressure runs in my mom's side of the family. Mom has it (and has had open heart surgery to replace valves with cow parts), grandma has it, her mom had it. Cannot avoid genetics. Fortunately, blood pressure medicine isn't something most people have to stay on their entire lives. There's a good chance I'll be able to use it to get me back down to a normal level, and then keep it there with a combination of a healthy diet and consistent exercise.
So, thats all folks. Let's hope all goes well with this!
-B
