Since hitting 30, I’ve decided to be a little more proactive, (read as “neurotic”), about my health, (read as “mortality”).

At my physical last May, I got brow beat by Dr. Sandy. Apparently I had gained a LOT of weight since last time I was in and my lab work suggested that my blood closely resembled margarine in viscosity. I was given a few months to straighten up, otherwise she was going to slap me with a script.

Dr. Sandy is an interesting woman. She reminds me of that super-smart girl we all knew back in school who’d actually be strikingly beautiful if she just pulled her head out of a book and looked in a mirror once in a while. She’s been taking care of my tubby ass since I graduated from pediatric care.

Well – good news… I’ve shimmied off about 25 pounds from the 248 last May.. And – I dropped my cholesterol significantly… But not enough. Perhaps my diet wasn’t strict enough, (sure the pizza in Chicago didn’t help)… or it could simply be a genetic predisposition to these problems. So – I was sent on my way with a script for something called “Zetia” in hand, and told to report back in late October.

I’m kind of creeped out by the concept that I’m now reliant on a pharmaceutical. I don’t even like to take aspirin.

I’m sure this sounds like pansy-ass whining to my friends who have to deal with the pill-carnival of HIV management. I mean them no disrespect. If anything – I have an altered perspective that at least right now I can’t really articulate. The change of perspective that comes when you’re told: “Here, you need to take these in order to increase your chances of living longer, – oh yeah, and they’re a small fortune. Have a nice day!”

Humph.. “increase your chances of living”… I wonder if they have a pill to help your chances of not getting struck by a speeding bus or not being in an office building bombarded by airplanes.

I’m feeling mortal – and the weak ass stab at immortality via blog probably won’t help. – so I won’t.