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There were a couple of different ways I could have gone with the doctor today. I could have gone in with a long list of complaints (and believe me, I know from complaints, legit or not), or I could have tried to get in and out of there as fast as possible and hope not to have to see him for another year. I chose the latter course.
You know, you shouldn’t make a man with high blood pressure wait so long in the doctor’s office. I’m saying that’s why my BP was up a little bit from the readings I’ve been taking at home (and which I recorded on a little card the doctor gave me last time, which he barely glanced at today). I had to stand in line to check in, which I didn’t mind because most of the people in front of me were even older than I am, and probably sicker.
But then I sat down and watched patient after patient who had checked in after me get called in to the examining rooms. I fidgeted. I checked my watch. I pulled my receipt out of my pocket to make sure they’d put the right name on it. I was about to check in at the desk again, after twenty minutes of sitting, when Nurse Jodie finally called me in. No wonder my BP was slightly elevated.
In fact, I made her take it twice. I pulled out my little card and showed her why I thought her machine was wrong. She wouldn’t go that far, but she did use a slightly larger sleeve when she took it the second time. She told me the first one might have been too tight, and that could have caused the higher reading. I’ll happily cosign that idea, although I’d never heard it before.
And it was down the second time, not within the goal range but down nonetheless. When the doctor came in, he took credit for giving me the right medication in the right dosage on the first try, and he told me to keep taking it. He went over my blood work and told me I was fine, although he encouraged more exercise and a little better diet. I told him I was working on it. He told me to work a little harder. | 
