Blood Pressure

Yesterday, I went to see my GP. Never my favourite way to spend time – I’m no fan of GPs at the best of times, and always go in expecting them to say “Oh, well, there’s not actually much we can do about that.”

In this case, I’ve whacked an existing scar, and opened it up again. Nothing special – it’s a fragile piece of skin, from the look of it, which is something my mother also has issues with – but more of an exploratory “Any suggestions on a) doing stuff to improve healing time on this? and b) preventing it in the future?” kind of thing. And I got exactly the expected answer. (But at least I know that for sure now)

Anyway, at the same time, the GP decided to check my blood pressure. This is one of the things that never fails to amuse me – considering I’m 6’4″ and distinctly overweight (although having now lost a stone from earlier this year) they always expect to give me a lecture on blood pressure. Bear in mind I’m rather known to be of the ranty persuasion as well, and they think it’s a no-brainer, which all goes to explain why they can never believe what it actually is.

In this case, the GP decided he’d done something wrong the first time, and checked it again.

But it still came out as 100/60. Which is ridiculously healthy and normal for someone of my dimensions and lifestyle.  I don’t know how I manage it, but that’s pretty much what my blood pressure always works out to be.

Strange but true – and always fun to bemuse a GP with it.