After a blood test in the surgery this morning before breakfast, I returned to King's Road and went to St Catherine's and joined eleven others for the midweek Eucharist. That's the best turnout for quite a while. Fr Mark and I had a good chat afterwards, and caught up on the news. He asked if I would be able and willing to celebrate the Parish Eucharist this coming Sunday, and I agreed. The discomfort of the day doesn't really start to develop until late morning, so I reckon I should be able to celebrate without being too distracted.
I can always take an ibuprofen to be on the safe side. I no longer take them daily, as I can manage without, and keep them in reserve, just in case. I don't think I am a masochist. Low level pain and discomfort draws attention to what's happening in my body, but not always to the point of distraction. I don't think it's good to get too used to medications unless you really need them, like ones I take for blood pressure.
I've had a week now on the additional pill the GPs urged me to take to reduce my erratic and high systolic readings. It seems to have brought about some reduction, but consistency is another matter. I have to be on the lookout for side effects. Some people apparently experience such a drastic drop that they tend to faint (the medical equivalent of taking sledgehammer to crack a nut?). I feel light headed, as if I'm up a 3,000m Alpine pass. Maybe this is what nearly normal is like, but it's so long since my blood pressure was 'normal' back in Geneva days, it hard to recall what that was like. Well, as long as I don't pass out while cooking lunch or saying Mass, I guess I can put up with it, until they can come up with something better.
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