Last weekend I acquiesced to the medical profession's demand that I acknowledge my age and attend a non-mandatory health check.
Non-mandatory in that I risked being removed from the surgery's register by dint of not attending it for over 5 years. Not at all to do with money, budgets, etc. No.
Yes.
I attended and had my lifestyle (sniggers, wishing I could afford one) dissected, my height and weight and blood pressure checked, and a sample of blood taken. As I left I was informed that if the blood sample yielded nothing untoward I could look forward to a reminder to visit again in five years.
Today I received a letter asking me to ring the surgery as there's a 'routine message on their screen'. That's it. Now I'm guessing my cholesterol is a bit high, as it was the last time it was checked, and high in common with most with my activity levels and dietary intake. But why not tell me in the letter, instead of wasting my time again?
Sure I'm being ungrateful for the chance to improve my quality of life, or maybe increase the life expectancy itself. It just seems such a waste having me ring and speak to someone, i.e. not a doctor, but someone who I don't really want to know anything about my health. It's private matter between me and a doctor, right?
And anyone who reads this.
Anyway, one good thing to come out of this, the bathroom scales are indeed accurate, damnit; and I've lost a little weight in the months prior to #Movember 2016 - in which I'm not participating, at least not in the, blokish, laddish, growing face fuzz manner.
No, I'm starting in earnest the process of looking after myself.
Just like last year. Last year I lost a few pounds, from a weight at which I felt a little uncomfortable. A weight from which I'm only a few pounds down again now.
Ah well, onwards and upw, er… downwards!