There Will Be Blood(work)

Earlier this week, a nurse handed me my glucose/lipid profile on a sheet of paper.

I wanted to frame it.

My triglycerides count, a measure of fat in the blood, had dropped by two-thirds in three years. Total cholesterol was better. LDL. HDL. Practically every category was a marked improvement.

For once, I was happy I wasn’t like my father.

Haunted by hypertension and high triglycerides, he died of a heart attack at age 64.

So when my lipid level spiked in 2010, I went to work.

I quit baking a dozen chocolate chip cookies every night after supper. I rejoined the YMCA, taking aerobics classes two, three times a week, jumping and punching and sweating as typically the only rooster in roomful of hens. I ran 5Ks.

And pretty soon, I was the lesser man for it.

My father’s father died before I was born. My dad never got to see my children. 

It’s history I’m bent on not repeating.

 

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