Who says I'm under pressure?
This week I have been not too clever. 2 weeks ago I passed out for no reason (nothing at all to do with the 4 bottles of wine and the 8 cans of super strength white cider), and decided it was best to see the doc. Well I suspected with the stress of my life, it must be high blood pressure, surely?
He took my blood pressure, tutted, took my blood pressure again, tutted again, looked at me, looked at the little puffy up army thingy, took it again, tutted again, went out the room, came back in with another little puffy up army thingy, and tried one last time.
"Nope," he said, "its no good. Your blood pressure is very low. 70/40 to be exact."
He checked me over anyway, but asked if I have had any other odd symptoms. I outlined a few odd moments, but nothing to write home about (or on here) so he said we will investigate further. I had to go for a blood test this morning, and the poor nurse that took the blood had a field day. Much tourniqueting my arm, pumping of my fist, and general pressure increasing, and a small vein became visible. The usual "You'll feel a slight prick," was met with, "Not to worry, I usually do." The poor cow didn't know what to do when the vile for the blood test didn't fill. She ended up pumping up my arm again to get the blood flowing, at which point I went a little giddy. I'm not squeamish in the slightest, but this time it must have been the decrease in blood from my brain. I came home, and promptly went back to bed where I stayed all day.
I wonder if low blood pressure leads to oxygen starvation of the brain? Perhaps that's why I am slowly going scatty, or is it because of the aforementioned 4 bottles of wine and 8 cans of white cider?
Any day now I am expecting my brain to say sector not found reading drive c: (a)bort, (r)etry, (f)ail.
That Donald Trump handshake gif
4 weeks ago