A Sloth Goes To The Doctor

So, I went to the doctor today.  I think he was late to his golf game because while I got in a few minutes early, I was in my car at 1:04.  My appointment was at 1.  Next time I'll just ask for the drive through service.

Let's see.  My blood pressure was high.  However, I had just run up a flight of stairs  and barely sat down before they called me back.  I'm going to blame that on that. They didn't seem concerned, so I won't be either.

Despite my running and cycling and yoga-ing my cholesterol is still high and my triglyercides are shockingly high. So, he put me on medicine.  I told him, I rarely eat red meat.  I don't eat many fried foods (despite what I've led you to believe with my bacon and Cheetos postings).  He said, "It's genetic.  Don't blame yourself."  Gee, thanks.  I'll take another pill.  After my insurance decides to pay for it.  They, of course, denied it.  They want the doc to call them and explain his reasoning for putting me on it.  "Well, after observing the patient for  year, I decided she has a hangnail, so I'm going to give her some cholesterol meds."  Asshats.

They did however pay for the antibiotics, the prednasone, the anti-inflammatories, and the cough medicine.  (My migraine medicine didn't need refilled or I could have just cleaned out the whole pharmacy).  The directions on all of these pills pretty much guarantee that I'll end up taking the dog's heartworm medicine by mistake and the dog will have a healthy dose of Z-pack.

He didn't say what was wrong with me other than I sounded awful and that my asthma wasn't helping.  I think I heard something about tee time in there too...or maybe I was imagining that.  He was in and out pretty quickly.  But the Internets can sleep soundly now.  I've been to the doctor.  I have a 90-year old's medicine cabinet worth of medication.  I'll be back to my regular spraining ankles and such in no time.