Post 489: Boots are sending me for a blood test.
I thought I’d check my blood pressure with our checking machine to see if there was a problem there. I haven’t felt myself lately and I know my oxygen levels are 93–95, but I was blown away with the first figures given because the numbers were 119 over 73.
I didn’t bother checking three times for an average because the result was perfect and I didn’t want to spoil it. Ha ha.
I’ll weigh myself tomorrow.
My weight might not be the problem to come. It might be my sweet tooth that’s the real issue.
When I was fearing for my life, I was losing weight and reached 10 stone 13 pounds, which I haven’t been since I was at school. And you can forget the BMI nonsense because I’m supposed to be healthy at a stupidly low amount that would only suit a healthy person.
I’m going by Mr U’s gut feeling, and 12 stone is what I’m happy at and where I need to be as a cancer survivor.
I’m incurable, but I’m not stopping eating.
So 12 stone, plus or minus four pounds, is OK for me.
But it’s my eyes that are the issue today, and I limped along to the town centre Boots opticians for my 11:15 appointment.
I was given a seat and promptly started dozing off in the chair, which I’m prone to do due to not sleeping enough and the drugs making me sleepy too. I’m likely to nod off at any moment.
So I had the first two scans and then sat waiting for the doctor to assess me.
He did the two assessments of my prescription and the pressure in my eyes, then rubbed his chin and scratched his head — not because he has a skin disorder, but because he couldn’t figure out what was wrong.
Yes, my prescription had changed in six months, but there was no reason he could find to support any problem other than the very, very early days of a cataract.
So he sent me back for another special scan, which turned out to be OK.
He then let me go with one particular test to have done on me: a HbA1c blood test.
And that is a worry.
Because of my horrendous sweet tooth, I’m considering having my wife give the bloods for me because she’s never had a sweet tooth.
Although I’ve just looked up my last recorded HbA1c test result, which was 37, and that suggests that I’m in the green — 41 being the top limit of the green zone.
So I will have to go to Anima and try to book an HbA1c test, just in case it’s risen into the over-41s.
But before I could leave, I spent a shade under £300 on changes to my own super-duper glasses with the grey Reactalite lenses, and a close-up pair to replace the close-ups I bought under two weeks ago and went to pick up today.
Brilliant!
I haven’t even worn them and they’re no use.
I also bought a new pair of arm’s-length focused glasses for work use on my computer.
I don’t know.
I really don’t know what to think.
To have a new pair rather than new lenses put in doesn’t sound right to me. I’d have thought that in this day and age we should be reusing frames at the very least.
It goes against the grain to throw away a brand-new pair of glasses that I’ve not even used.
A disgrace.
But the salesman was ushering me towards the new ones because of a deal…
You get one free if you buy the most expensive at full price, and a second at half price.
Yes, it takes a couple of goes to understand it, but it is only a good deal if you want three pairs of glasses.
Anyway, it took about an hour to get out of the shop and off to a real shopping trip over the road.
Iceland.
That’s where I went for some retail therapy.
I got a couple of boxes of Magnums and then the pièce de résistance: three packets of Brains faggots.
The two-faggot packs.
I didn’t even know they did them in packs of two.
I was ecstatic.
My Darling would never eat them, ever, so they’re all for me.
Only one pack at a sitting, though. Gone are the days when I could eat four faggots.
So the rest of the day was spent doing some paperwork at home while my Darling watched her programmes.
At three o’clock I went to work and found out what the new work for me was.
I was given a folder of handwritten pages containing 33 lines of programme file names and other details, and there must be just over an inch of pages in thickness.
I don’t know how long that will take to digitise, but it will be a number of weeks and I like it.
So I’m very happy.
The two hours at work sped by, so it’s obviously keeping me usefully occupied and my head and brain very busy.
As the weekend gets ever closer, I’m wondering how my Darling will cope with three ten-hour days in a row at work.
She seems to be healing, but we haven’t been out for any walks just yet.
Mind you, I have only asked once.
So this evening we did walk the half-mile to the post office and get a letter sent signed-for.
That was nice and stretched both of our legs to a degree.
Perhaps we will walk some more next week, and get that blood test sorted.
Take care.
Sleep well.
