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The last 24hours have been.... unique. Something of an emotional and physical roller coaster, really, which began with a night shift and ended in A&E. Certainly not how I was expecting to spend my Christmas night/Boxing Day morning, that's for sure. -__-;
The short version of this story:
I discovered that I have incredibly high blood pressure, and was on the point of having a stroke.
I am now on medication.
This is good.
The long version of this story:
( Cut cos it's long. )
The thing that really scares me, though, is that other than the headaches, I didn't really feel ill today. I could easily have gone on indefinitely with this high blood pressure, and ended up suddenly having a massive stroke without any warning whatsoever. I (like most sane people) have a terrible fear of sudden death, and that is exactly what I have faced today. And for now- at the moment- I've avoided it, but only because a friend of mine had the wits to pick up on a symptom that everybody else (including me!) assumed was just part of the normal condition of being fat. If I hadn't given in and let her check me, I actually could have died. No joke. I'm not exaggerating. It might not have been today, or this weekend, but it could have been. It could have been next week, or the week after. I'll never know, and hopefully it won't happen.
I want to say that I've been given a second chance, and leave this on some kind of high note, but I don't really feel like that. I just feel tired, and washed out. I've slept for about 3 hours in the last 24 (2 before going to work, one this morning). I know I have to make some pretty huge lifestyle changes, but there's a part of me- a part I can't really control- that has always accepted the fact that I am going to eat myself to death before the age of 40. I think I've known that since I was about 15. More than anything else, more than the weight, and the health stuff- that's the thing I have to actually fight here: my own, treacherous brain. Nothing will help until I can get rid of that part of me.
I suppose that has to be my New Year's Resolution. I don't really have a choice, but right now, I'm just too tired to care all that much.
I'm going to go to bed, and hopefully I can make a proper plan to cope with this in the morning. I'm seriously upset about having to miss yet more work, but at the end of the day, I would rather be alive and in trouble with my managers than dead. I love my job- I really do- but not quite enough to actually let it kill me.
Needless to say, this has been the shittiest Christmas-slash-Boxing Day ever.
The short version of this story:
I discovered that I have incredibly high blood pressure, and was on the point of having a stroke.
I am now on medication.
This is good.
The long version of this story:
( Cut cos it's long. )
The thing that really scares me, though, is that other than the headaches, I didn't really feel ill today. I could easily have gone on indefinitely with this high blood pressure, and ended up suddenly having a massive stroke without any warning whatsoever. I (like most sane people) have a terrible fear of sudden death, and that is exactly what I have faced today. And for now- at the moment- I've avoided it, but only because a friend of mine had the wits to pick up on a symptom that everybody else (including me!) assumed was just part of the normal condition of being fat. If I hadn't given in and let her check me, I actually could have died. No joke. I'm not exaggerating. It might not have been today, or this weekend, but it could have been. It could have been next week, or the week after. I'll never know, and hopefully it won't happen.
I want to say that I've been given a second chance, and leave this on some kind of high note, but I don't really feel like that. I just feel tired, and washed out. I've slept for about 3 hours in the last 24 (2 before going to work, one this morning). I know I have to make some pretty huge lifestyle changes, but there's a part of me- a part I can't really control- that has always accepted the fact that I am going to eat myself to death before the age of 40. I think I've known that since I was about 15. More than anything else, more than the weight, and the health stuff- that's the thing I have to actually fight here: my own, treacherous brain. Nothing will help until I can get rid of that part of me.
I suppose that has to be my New Year's Resolution. I don't really have a choice, but right now, I'm just too tired to care all that much.
I'm going to go to bed, and hopefully I can make a proper plan to cope with this in the morning. I'm seriously upset about having to miss yet more work, but at the end of the day, I would rather be alive and in trouble with my managers than dead. I love my job- I really do- but not quite enough to actually let it kill me.
Needless to say, this has been the shittiest Christmas-slash-Boxing Day ever.
