In which Jo gives up, throws in the towel, and sees the doctor.

For those of you who weren't keeping up on Cranky Fitness, my blood pressure went sky-freaking-high about the time I hit the 20-pound mark with Weight Watchers.

After some running to and fro and generalized consternation, I took a look at my diet. All the folks in my family who are hypertensive are what's called salt-reactive: in other words, they're part of the minority of people for whom sodium intake makes a difference in blood pressure.

Turns out that what I was eating on WW, while both varied and healthy, and while well within the limit for sodium set by the Feds, was way too high in sodium for me. So I ditched the Boca Burgers with tears in my eyes, went to low-salt cheese, and dumped all manner of processed foods on my neighbors, who are fifteen years younger than me and who run every day.

And damned if it didn't work! My blood pressure came down--sit down for this; you ready?--THIRTY POINTS in three weeks of low-salt eating. And it wasn't even that difficult to do. I bought a book on DASH (diet modifications for hypertension), but ended up not even using it all that much. All I really did was ditch the processed stuff and eat more bananas and avocados.

The point of this is, even people who are close to a healthy size can have hypertension. And, if you do, it's worth it to try dietary modifications and lifestyle changes first, as they can make huge differences.

"So, Jo," you're saying to yourself right now, "how come you went to the doctor? And what's this about throwing in the towel?"

Even with all this good news about blood pressure, there was A Dark Cloud On The Horizon. That dark cloud is called "working night shift". I was fine for three weeks, then noticed my pressures getting quite weird: they'd vary thirty points or more in the course of a shift, and never *quite* get back to normal. So I ditched caffeine, mostly, upped my potassium intake, and (*sob*) cut down on alcohol.

My pressures stabilized until about two weeks ago. At that point--and remember, I'm still circadian-opposite--my systolic decided that 160 was a fantastic place to live and my diastolic (that's the bottom number in blood pressure; the one that tells you how much pressure there is on your heart while it's relaxed) was a dangerous, scary 100 or so.

So off I went to the doc today. My doctor is a kindly, rumpled, reassuring Muppet from the Philippines who said, as he wrote me a prescription for generic Ziac 5/6.25 "You're a real American now, just like me! All real Americans have high blood pressure!"

I have taken one pill so far and feel....strangely mellow. My heart no longer feels like it's going to POUND out of my CHEST at any SECOND, and the headache I've had for two weeks is subsiding.

The moral of this story is, since every story has to have a moral, this: Even if you lose X number of pounds, or lift Y pounds of weights without trouble, or just finished a Z-mile run, *stay on top of your basic health information.* This means checking blood pressures once in a while, women getting Pap smears regularly, guys doing the old testicle-check for lumps and bumps, and all the other boring stuff your doctor is always bugging you about. Just because you now weigh less or move more than you used to, don't assume you're automatically healthier.

I had the triple-whammy of diet (mostly taken care of), night-shift work (boo), and genetics hit me within six months. I'm off of night shift in three weeks and will get rechecked in six weeks to see how Ye Olde Systolic is doing (though I'll be monitoring it at home regularly, too).

Taking medication is a pain in the ass, yes, but it's kind of nice to know I'm less likely to suddenly have a hemorrhagic stroke in the middle of a workout with Attila. That would totally ruin her day.