I’m noticing numbers again.
My blood pressure’s been high, a fact my oncologist says could be a symptom of ‘white coat syndrome.’ This refers to the anxiety patients feel upon entering the doctor’s office. She says there’s a debate as to whether to treat for that. The first visit my top number was a shockingly high 175; this visit it was 165. A couple days ago, at the surgeon’s office, my top number was 155, still unreasonably high. My surgeon and oncologist chat frequently and the numbers shared across offices have my surgeon concerned. She says they won’t do surgery with my blood pressure that high due to risk of stroke or other complications.
My blood pressure’s been high, a fact my oncologist says could be a symptom of ‘white coat syndrome.’ This refers to the anxiety patients feel upon entering the doctor’s office. She says there’s a debate as to whether to treat for that. The first visit my top number was a shockingly high 175; this visit it was 165. A couple days ago, at the surgeon’s office, my top number was 155, still unreasonably high. My surgeon and oncologist chat frequently and the numbers shared across offices have my surgeon concerned. She says they won’t do surgery with my blood pressure that high due to risk of stroke or other complications.
This makes me sad. I’m definitely
in the Approach part of the Hero’s Journey, now looking ahead to the Ordeal,
which I’m defining as the surgery. I’m getting prepared.
My surgeon gave me a choice: visit my internist or one of their cardiac specialists to find out for sure what’s going on. I met my internist once two years ago after my eighth grade daughter signed up for a trip to China with a group led by her friend’s mother. Shortly after committing, the thought of sending my shy child, who hadn’t managed to stay the whole week at camp the summer before, to one of the farthest places on earth panicked me to the bone. (This was my refusal of the call; my daughter was having hers as well.) Of course she’d be among friends, but still. My heart raced and I felt dizzy.
I met internist Hanny Tan, who has a cardiac focus. She was bright and sensitive and also Chinese. She took a number of tests and a couple days later called to say everything was fine, especially my heart. She made a fine first impression and now I’m going back for my second visit on Tuesday. My blood pressure was once remarkably low so this is a turn. There’s no way I want to get on blood pressure medication.
In the meantime, I’m working out as much as I can. Eating celery like Ron! I’ve joined his club (although I prefer it thinly sliced at a angle with apple chunks, a dollop of yogurt and walnuts, my version of Grandma’s Waldorf salad). I’m watching my salt intake. Not drinking alcohol (I haven’t drank anyway since treatment started.) Avoiding caffeine. Admission: I squeezed in a cup of coffee before the surgeon (155 top number) appointment. I’m trying to stay unstressed, which might be my hardest challenge, what with my need now to worry about my blood pressure and my teens and my students not turning in work on time and any of the other uncontrollable thoughts on my journey. I mentioned to the oncologist the much talked about New York Times article I read about the overabundance of breast cancer treatment and then the language surrounding the triple- negative and my sensitive doctor said, “You need to stop reading things like that. That’s an intellectual discussion. Save that for after this is over. And you’re not totally triple negative. You need to hear that.”
There’s a time for everything, and I acknowledge this is the time to crack open the meditation tapes. A friend suggested acupuncture and Ron’s nudging me to join him in yoga, but first things first.
Finally, I’m monitoring my blood pressure over the next several days when I’m not in the presence of ‘white coats,’ who incidentally don’t dress in white coats, but colorful sweaters and slim skirts.
Last night, Ron took my blood pressure at rest at home and it was 122 over 68. This afternoon, I took it at the pharmacy and it was 118 over 55. This morning we just took it; it’s 134/68.
I don’t know what’s going on, but my doctors do listen to what I tell them. It makes sense to listen to my body and give them the information I have. We’re all working together for the best journey possible. Hopefully, like the one my daughter had to China two years ago. It was life changing.
My surgeon gave me a choice: visit my internist or one of their cardiac specialists to find out for sure what’s going on. I met my internist once two years ago after my eighth grade daughter signed up for a trip to China with a group led by her friend’s mother. Shortly after committing, the thought of sending my shy child, who hadn’t managed to stay the whole week at camp the summer before, to one of the farthest places on earth panicked me to the bone. (This was my refusal of the call; my daughter was having hers as well.) Of course she’d be among friends, but still. My heart raced and I felt dizzy.
I met internist Hanny Tan, who has a cardiac focus. She was bright and sensitive and also Chinese. She took a number of tests and a couple days later called to say everything was fine, especially my heart. She made a fine first impression and now I’m going back for my second visit on Tuesday. My blood pressure was once remarkably low so this is a turn. There’s no way I want to get on blood pressure medication.
In the meantime, I’m working out as much as I can. Eating celery like Ron! I’ve joined his club (although I prefer it thinly sliced at a angle with apple chunks, a dollop of yogurt and walnuts, my version of Grandma’s Waldorf salad). I’m watching my salt intake. Not drinking alcohol (I haven’t drank anyway since treatment started.) Avoiding caffeine. Admission: I squeezed in a cup of coffee before the surgeon (155 top number) appointment. I’m trying to stay unstressed, which might be my hardest challenge, what with my need now to worry about my blood pressure and my teens and my students not turning in work on time and any of the other uncontrollable thoughts on my journey. I mentioned to the oncologist the much talked about New York Times article I read about the overabundance of breast cancer treatment and then the language surrounding the triple- negative and my sensitive doctor said, “You need to stop reading things like that. That’s an intellectual discussion. Save that for after this is over. And you’re not totally triple negative. You need to hear that.”
There’s a time for everything, and I acknowledge this is the time to crack open the meditation tapes. A friend suggested acupuncture and Ron’s nudging me to join him in yoga, but first things first.
Finally, I’m monitoring my blood pressure over the next several days when I’m not in the presence of ‘white coats,’ who incidentally don’t dress in white coats, but colorful sweaters and slim skirts.
Last night, Ron took my blood pressure at rest at home and it was 122 over 68. This afternoon, I took it at the pharmacy and it was 118 over 55. This morning we just took it; it’s 134/68.
I don’t know what’s going on, but my doctors do listen to what I tell them. It makes sense to listen to my body and give them the information I have. We’re all working together for the best journey possible. Hopefully, like the one my daughter had to China two years ago. It was life changing.
No comments:
Post a Comment