It’s amazing the things that we get worked up about as human beings; we put so much energy into fretting about things that we have no control over, or which will never happen anyway. That said, that realisation was no comfort to me on Wednesday as I prepared to visit Ninewells Hospital in Dundee for my first renal clinic appointment since moving.
I was nervous. I was very nervous. Over the last few years my blood pressure has got higher and higher as I’ve got more and more stressed about life, the universe and everything. It didn’t help that I didn’t get on terribly well with my renal doctor. She’d shout at me and that really didn’t help me in the slightest.
In the end I wrote and complained and asked to see another doctor, and the consultant I saw was lovely, and listened and it made such a difference. However, my BP was still frighteningly high. Way back in February when I last visited the Royal Infirmary of Edinburgh for my sixth-monthly renal appointment my blood pressure was a massive 180/96.
My new consultant told me in no uncertain terms to change my job. “Your job is killing you,” she said, and wasn’t using that as a turn of phrase or a euphemistic expression, she really meant it.
And just as she had listened to me, I listened to her and did what she said. I secured this job at the University of St Andrews, and moved to Fife. And on Wednesday my blood pressure read 136/89. That’s almost normal!
Isn’t God good.