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Office Health Clinic, Part II
Apr. 15th, 2008 08:47 amA couple of weeks ago, I attended my firm's annual health clinic. What the hell... it earns me a bonus day off work if I complete the follow-up survey and read their materials.
Yesterday, the results of my blood tests arrived. Generally, all was pretty good. My good cholesterol was low but just barely out of the recommended bounds; a hefty amount of aerobic exercise can correct that. One of my white blood cell counts was elevated but that was probably related to the cold I developed in the day or two following.
The true amusement came from the assessment based on my numbers: apparently I'm in such appalling health that I should be dead.
I don't feel dead. Well, I sometimes pray for death when the alarm clock goes off on Monday mornings but that's different.
According to the survey and numbers, I'm obese. Not fat, not gee-you-could-stand-to-lose-a-few-pounds. Obese. Fer cryin' out loud, I'm 185 lbs on a 5'10" frame. Yeah, I could trim myself down to a svelte 165 lbs with some minor acts of starvation, but obese?!
My diet is also atrocious. Consuming enough refined sugar, ice cream and chocolate to sustain a small country didn't raise eyebrows; the fact that I don't eat breakfast however dooms me to an early grave.
The real kicker was the spotlight brought to bear on not getting 8+ hours of sleep per day. Huh? If I'm sleeping eight hours, it's because something is wrong such as illness or extreme exertion. I know my body and it works optimally on 7 hours.
The ultimate take-away message was clear: there's no substitute for (a) knowing your own body, and (b) having a physician who knows you. Clearly, this scatter-shot, one-size-fits-all health survey doesn't know me well at all.
Yesterday, the results of my blood tests arrived. Generally, all was pretty good. My good cholesterol was low but just barely out of the recommended bounds; a hefty amount of aerobic exercise can correct that. One of my white blood cell counts was elevated but that was probably related to the cold I developed in the day or two following.
The true amusement came from the assessment based on my numbers: apparently I'm in such appalling health that I should be dead.
I don't feel dead. Well, I sometimes pray for death when the alarm clock goes off on Monday mornings but that's different.
According to the survey and numbers, I'm obese. Not fat, not gee-you-could-stand-to-lose-a-few-pounds. Obese. Fer cryin' out loud, I'm 185 lbs on a 5'10" frame. Yeah, I could trim myself down to a svelte 165 lbs with some minor acts of starvation, but obese?!
My diet is also atrocious. Consuming enough refined sugar, ice cream and chocolate to sustain a small country didn't raise eyebrows; the fact that I don't eat breakfast however dooms me to an early grave.
The real kicker was the spotlight brought to bear on not getting 8+ hours of sleep per day. Huh? If I'm sleeping eight hours, it's because something is wrong such as illness or extreme exertion. I know my body and it works optimally on 7 hours.
The ultimate take-away message was clear: there's no substitute for (a) knowing your own body, and (b) having a physician who knows you. Clearly, this scatter-shot, one-size-fits-all health survey doesn't know me well at all.
