In the first installment, I talked ( whined ) about my visit to the Sunshine Coast to get a physical. In that story, I bemoaned the loss of connection to the local small town doctors, who for years provided caring and personal service.Last week I made the trip again, from Vancouver to the Coast to get my results.
It went like this.
I arrived at Horseshoe Bay an hour early for the ferry, so I went over to Troll's restaurant for a late breaky. Just a few minutes after arriving, an old Coast friend and his buddy arrived with the same idea. We sat together and yucked it up, getting the latest gossip and stories. They had come into town to look at purchasing an older classic vehicle, but the negotiations on price versus condition didn't get far. They turned the deal down and were returning home.
One of the bright spots in the conversation that restored my faith in humanity for a few minutes, was this simple gesture. The fella that had the car for sale, had to drive it quite a ways to meet the boys closer to Horseshoe Bay. When the deal didn't go through, my friend paid the the guy 200 bucks for his time and trouble.
You don't see that happening much these days...one human being considering another in the "do unto others" fashion. Mostly it's the "fuck em " attitude that rules the deal world. Hard asses would proclaim him a sucker...the more Karmically oriented would just nod in approval
Halfway through breakfast, the vehicle owner calls back and offers a 30% discount if they take the deal now, before everyone scatters. A brief negotiation ensues, a couple phone calls out into the world for more opinions...and then it's agreed...a done deal. The boys zoom out to get the new treasure, and get back to the ferry in time to drive right on.
I know, this is a tale about visiting the doctor, I'm getting there.
On the ferry, a guy that I have been trying to contact, walks by. I call him over and we talk the whole trip about lost and abandoned logging machines that he has discovered in his travels as a logging contractor. We agree to talk more at a later date, so that I can get the details on where all these treasures are, and then I can go to photograph them. Perfect.
Off the ferry, I make my way up to Sechelt. It's a bone chilling January day, overcast and on the edge of snow. The receptionist at the medical clinic is a friend from school and the old neighborhood. Another friend from days gone by, walks into the clinic and we start up again on the subject of forgotten old machinery. Because this is the Coast ( everyone is connected in some fashion or another ) the guy that I'm talking to is buddies with the fella I talked to on the ferry. It just kinda works that way up there. When we struggle to remember a detail about some tidbit of the past, another Coaster sitting in the waiting room, pipes up with the answer. The name we were looking for was his dad!....connections...connections.
With my head full of ideas for expeditions to steam yarders and rusty logging trucks, the nurse calls me into the doctors office. ( finally...the doctor part )
Same doctor as last time, different attitude. This time warmer and smiling, a bit more engaging. The results showed a few interesting things.
For the first time ever, my cholesterol was slightly elevated. I'm going to mark that down as an effect of 9 months of night-shift work/12 hours at a crack and the crappy diet that goes with that lifestyle. ( packaged sandwiches, corner store meals, a Tim Hortons habit and upside down sleep pattern. )
The flip side was that my "good" cholesterol was "very" high. It was decided that it was a result of a diet change that I made about a year ago. A professional conditioning coach ( Paul Valiulis, Precision Nutrition ) that I met in the gym turned me onto high doses of liquid fish oil. I studied the available info online and dived headlong into the program. My doctor agreed that the liquid fish oil was the reason for the higher good cholesterol count...and that it helped to counteract the bad. ( do your own research, ask your own questions, consult your doctor or nutritionist. )
Here is another interesting point. In the physical, my height, weight and waist measurement was taken. This is used to help calculate the risk of heart attack from a body type of angle.
The problem here is that I'm a gym rat and a runner.... and the height/weight scale doesn't fit. So my 6 foot tall, 225 lb body is not the same soft gooey body of a desk jockey that gets his exercise bending elbows at the local bar.
My own internal reasoning aside, the medical report calculations showed an 8% risk of heart attack. This was the result of stirring in the cholesterol count with height/weight and age ( 52 ) Blood pressure is at the low end of the scale and resting pulse is 60bpm.( low )
My dietary downfall these days is regular consumption of soy or rice ice cream....or taco chips and salsa/guacamole. Not the worst snack food in the world, but something to keep and eye on, all things considered. My poison of choice these days is yummy red wines rather than my old martini habit of days gone by. Red wine is purported to have some heart health benefits ( all things in moderation )
My doctor ( friendlier and warmer than last time ) informed me that slightly modifying the diet now would be far far easier than trying to fix a cholesterol problem later. Point taken.
So, officially...color me skeptical about the 8% risk thing ( no family history of heart disease )...BUT...seeing that my life plan is to grow old by fighting the aging process on every front...I will reconsider some of my diet choices by trying to tame the snack monster that lives within.
To perfectly end the story.
I walked out of the clinic and ran smack dab into my old doctor, Denis Rogers ( yes Denis...not Dennis ) We go way back, as doctor/patient and as friends. It was a warm greeting on a cold day. He asked me what I was up to. I replied that I came up to get a physical...and was disappointed that he wasn't still working.
Denis took a step back, eyed me up and down, and declared.."You look fine my boy, why on earth would you want a physical?
That's my Denis. That's my old home.
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