Thursday, April 25, 2013

Good News

I went to my internist for a check-up this week and got good news and bad news.  My blood pressure is down.  My weight is up. 

Now of course I would like both of those things to be down.   But if I had to pick one?  I'd go with my blood pressure.  And I'm aware that flies in the face of all that is thought to be holy in our world.

I have a family history of high blood pressure and a personal history of borderline-to-high bp.  Some of my personal history was a side effect of a medicine I used to take, but not all; I've been paying attention and exercising specifically to keep my blood pressure under control.

My internist rather gleefully told me that I'd traded one problem for another, as a side effect of the medicine I switched to was weight gain, something he'd seen in "all of his patients" taking this particular med.  Great.  

But I gave up disliking my body for Lent, and it went so well that I've kept on.  I mean it.  I spent a lot of years ignoring my body entirely (I was thin in college, but I never realized it), and then several more disliking my soft belly and what a friend once called my "strong Germanic thighs."  But it got old, all that negative energy.  It grew tiresome.  It started to feel like the opposite of healing.  It was certainly the opposite of love.

And when I really stopped to think, I realized that my body is a trooper.  I've been told by three separate physicians that I was very lucky not to have died in my sleep from untreated asthma as a child, but here I am, alive.  My body kept breathing.  I didn't wear glasses and consequently had no depth perception as a child, but now--with the help of bifocals--I can hit a tennis ball well enough to rally with my daughter.  I will never be a runner, not with my asthma issues, but, by God, I am an eventer--and lately I've been having less breathing trouble, not more. 

I have good hands.  Strong hands--one of my superpowers is opening stuck jars.  I type fast, and I can knit plain in dark movie theaters or with my eyes closed. 

I rather like the silver strands running through my hair.  I have no plans to dye them.  I may start wearing hair ribbons again.

My body created, bore, gave birth to, and nursed two beautiful healthy babies, who have grown into tall, graceful near-adults.  I would hate it if my son and daughter didn't understand what gorgeous creations they are.  It would be so untrue.

So, for myself at least, I'm going to keep telling the truth.