Pressure

My phone chimed the arrival of an email and I realized my eyes were closed. When did that happen? I lifted my head, leaving a face-shaped grease mark on the pages of my old accounting text book. I thought of how many similar stains remain on the pages of my college texts and hand outs and wondered briefly where they all are these days.

I'd been thinking about what to do with my life (as I do every day) and thought about accounting. I like puzzle solving and I'm good at pattern recognition, so why not? I literally dusted off Financial Accounting Edition 9 and the mostly empty notebook under it and brought it over to my kitchen table - my job finding war room. As I read through the faded highlighter, I realized how rusty I was. Was it really worth it to try to re-learn accounting? I might not even get an interview for a job that requires it. Maybe I'll cross that bridge when I get to it; I know I can get it all back if I put my mind to it. As long as my mind is awake, that is. My eyes started to droop again.

I went to the doctor a few days ago and got a proper standard check-up for the first time in at least two years. I figure I've seen enough doctors to last me a lifetime, but besides a cursory am-I-healthy-enough-to-have-surgery look over, they've only been looking at my head. A slightly older nurse led me back to a small office off of the waiting room. I stepped on the scale, deciding that my clothes obviously weigh a considerable amount, told her my history and slowly listed the names of my many medications as she looked each one up on their new computer system. As I spelled out each medication and waited for the dusty computer to recognize it before repeating the dosage, I kept thinking how much quicker it would be if I were to just write it myself. Ten minutes later, she lifted a stethoscope and pressure cuff off the wall to take my vitals. Pump, pump, pump, the air squished out of the rubber bulb and into the growing black band that was cutting off my blood supply. I've always hated having my blood pressure taken - I keep thinking about how it has to collapse my arm artery, which freaks me out. Finally, mercifully, she deflated the cuff and pulled away the Velcro. "Is your blood pressure usually really low?", she asked. "Um, yeah, it's generally low", I replied. "Okay, I just wanted to check that my cuff wasn't broken"... ??? "What is it?", I asked. "Ninety over fifty". What? That's low, even for me. But suddenly it made sense: the fatigue, the heat intolerance, the head rush every time I stand up, the fogginess in my mind. I don't have blood in my head!

I told John about it on my way out and when he got home, he spent a good twenty minutes online trying to find out how to increase blood pressure. Lie on my back with my feet up in the air; work out lightly to get the blood flowing; avoid stress, as it makes your veins dilate; eat salt; cross my legs. That night I lay on my bed, feet propped up on a three-pillow tower, feeling my mind return to me. I took some Advil to relieve the pain of the building pressure in my head, thinking about the trade-off between blood in my brain and pain in my head. Lately the pain has only been along the incision as my skull grows back together, bone fusing to bone, remodeling around Titanium. Soon it will be nothing more than a scar, white on white. Soon. In the meantime, I'll wait on my back, legs crossed above me.