Under pressure is not the most appropriate title. Over pressure does not make much sense, though. The most accurate term would be hypertension. As in slightly above normal blood pressure, which is what I am currently enjoying. Apparently. We are keeping watch over my blood pressure for the next week to see if the higher reading I got during a doctor's appointment Tuesday was the result of one off annoyance or a sign of lingering trouble.
It was an otherwise routine doctor's appointment with the usual poking, prodding, and stabbing f needles. I had not been examined by this doctor since late summer. If I had not sought her out last month for an antibiotic to kill my turn with the upper respiratory ailment going around last month, I probably would not have even been on her radar. Take that as a sign of my continued good health in the little over a year now since I escaped the evil clutches of Oakhaven Nursing Center.
For some reason, I have a nagging in the back of my mind about the blood test. I have no reason to assume my ulcer, which really has not been bad since the fall of 2014, is bleeding again. But considering the ulcer was caused by anxiety and quite a few people are fretting over how I feel about various matters and my blood pressure may or may not be on the rise, I may receive unpleasant news next week when the results come back. I hope my red blood cell count is normal. Or, if not, we can simply add to my iron intake instead of going through all the nasty procedures I endured in order to discover the ulcer in the first place.
If the results are interesting, I might post something about it. Otherwise, w shall return to our usual naval gazing and existential angst.