Under pressure

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The trip to the doc yesterday confirmed my suspicion on the ears. I have an ear infection. Doc said it was fairly easy to take care (of course) but then the pharmacy didn’t have the drops for my ears and I have had to wait an additional 24 hours for relief on that.

But, what I was not expecting was that some other news isn’t what I wanted to hear.

As it turns out, if I am not careful I may blow a gasket, so to speak.

The nurse came in yesterday and we went through the usual check in stuff and then she proceeded to check my blood pressure.

Background: I run high and always have.

She seemed alarmed. She asked, “Are you feeling alright? Your BP is unusually high, even for what we have in the records.”

I assured her that I run high and it wasn’t all that unusual. She said, “Well, this high and we start to worry about a stroke.”

Hmmmmm. I guess that is high.

She said, “We’ll have the doc check it again when she comes in. Often people are a little high when they visit the office so maybe you’re just elevated at the moment..”

She leaves. Doc comes in a few minutes later. Ask about the ear. Checks the ear. Confirms infection and sends off a prescription for drop to treat. Then she sits down and says, “Let’s talk about that BP.”

She takes it again and she says the top number is down but the bottom number is still really high. Too high for them to feel real comfortable with. So, she recommended a follow up in two weeks with my primary. In the meantime, I am supposed to check my resting BP at least once a day for the next two weeks so I have some data to talk with the doc about at that time.

It seems the pressure inside is building and I just might pop a top. Blow a gasket. Explode.

Do people just randomly explode from high blood pressure? That would be cool. Maybe. I supposed it could be rather messy.

Anyway, here’s to keeping the pressure down and the top on.

Cheers!

Little dog, little dog

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Oh, little dog, little dog…

You are a tricky one you little dog. You are a little thief, little dog.

You steal my spot on the couch. You steal my pillow on the bed.

You sit at my feet and wait to steal (ok, willingly given up because you’re cute) pieces of my food.

You, little dog, steal cuddles in the middle of the day and make me pause in the rush as if to say, “Slow down. It will be OK. Take a moment and love me.”

Yes, little dog, you have stolen my heart, which is actually quite remarkable considering three years ago I DID NOT want you to be in my house, much less my life. But, you have been good for everyone.

Do I like that you steal my pillow at night? NO. Do I like that you drool all over it the moment I get out of bed and you curl up on it? No. Do I like that you often displace my butt from the couch the moment I get up to get a drink? No. I don’t like sitting in places that are not comfortable and unfamiliar.

But, little dog, oh little dog…keep it up.

**There may have been too much love and only a little Piss & Moan in this post. I apologize and will try to get back to the regularly schedule loathing tomorrow.**