So yesterday I spent two and a half hours in a doctors office for a follow up to some blood work I got done earlier in the year.
They originally called me to schedule the follow up when I was on vacation in Disney, but I didn't get that call and only heard the voice-mail about a month later, not sure how I missed it. Since then I think they have called me once a month to have my follow up and so when I finally answered the phone the last time they called I scheduled it, and yesterday was the date.
So, 2.5 hours to be told that I'm severely Vitamin D3 deficient and they want me to take pills to raise my levels and I should probably just take them for the rest of my life because, you know, it's good for you and shit.
Then she asked me a series of questions which led to the "bad news."
I'm genetically pre-disposed to heart attacks and there isn't a whole lot I can do about it except "eat healthy and live healthy."
Diet and exercise.
It appears as though there are chemicals that your body makes and if they make more of those chemicals than what the doctors consider acceptable then you are pre-disposed to the possibility of having a heart attack. My body makes a lot of those chemicals.
The one, she said, they find acceptable production to be anything below a 3 and they prefer a 1. I asked where I sat on their scale and she told me an 11.
Wooo, yay genetics!
I asked if there was anything I could do, anything I could take and she said that there wasn't. It is in my genetic make-up so she recommends eating healthy and living healthy in order to minimize the risks.
I guess it's a good thing that I choose the path to eat healthier and live healthier last year and have dropped 75+ pounds already. I'm on the quest to shed the next 20+ and we'll see next year if my healthier lifestyle has made a difference.
Fuck Doctors and their good news