I got the call from the doctor’s office. The call where they give me the results of the blood texts they did last week.
I’m just going to say it. The woman that called me was not fucking helpful.
She told me that I had elevated cholesterol.
side note: well, no shit, Sherlock. I had been living on gas station and drive through food for three weeks, so I’m surprised that I actually had any blood instead of a soup of sugar, grease, and preservatives.
I was not told how elevated my cholesterol levels are. Which isn’t helpful.
I was told to limit my red meat and carb intake. Not helpful. What the fuck does carb intake have to do with cholesterol anyway? What would have been helpful was to tell me how many carbs I could have. See, I’m no dietician, but I have had to learn a lot about carbs and sugars and fibers and shit since Sunshine got diagnosed with diabetes. I know that lots and lots of things count as carbs. Let’s skip over the obvious culprits like bread and baked potatoes and cakes and cookies and pies and shit, because obviously. Let’s look at the not obvious. Ultimately, pretty much everything breaks down into carbs. Vegetables are carbs. Fruits are carbs. Am I allowed to eat fruits and vegetables or nah? If I’m allowed to eat them, how many may I have? I was given no guidelines, no pointers, nothing. Most decidedly not helpful.
I was also told that I was to exercise at least 40 minutes every day. When I pointed out to the person on the phone that I have COPD and putting on a sports bra leaves me winded and asked how am I supposed to exercise for 40 minutes when I can’t even get dressed without gasping for air, I heard crickets. Not helpful. Not helpful at all. Not even a little bit. Fucker.
I was also told that they wanted to run a follow up test in three months and see if the changes I had made were sufficient. Which is funny as hell, since I was given no specifics about what changes (or how much of them) to make. Irony much, assholes?
I ranted and raged and cried and bitched until I finally fell asleep.
The next morning, I woke up and knew what the solution was.
With the exception of the three weeks from hell, I actually do eat rather healthy foods. I’m also reasonably active out here on the farm, especially for somebody with a lung condition that makes breathing difficult on a good day. And since I was given no guidance on what to eat and how much of it to eat, I’m just going to eat foods that I think are tasty and healthy and hope I guess right. If I don’t, well, nobody gets out of this alive, which means we all gotta die of something, right? I’m not going to die miserable because I was given a diet suggestion that basically knocked out most of the foods available to man because they couldn’t be bothered to actually give me some specific guidelines to adhere to because they are assholes. Fuckers.
Now, I’m going to go drink a nutritional shake and eat some vitamins because that’s pretty much what’s left according to their retarded ass non-specific dietary orders. Fuckers.
final note: just kidding. I’m going to have a protein bar, because they kind of taste like peanut butter oatmeal cookies without the sugar involved in cookies.