My Impending Doom

It seems being angry all the time isn’t such a good thing after all.

A couple of weeks ago, I came back from lunch and noticed I was red as a beet. I don’t usually have a florid complexion; in fact, quite the opposite. Naturally I was concerned. I have the advantage of working with several nurses, so I asked one of them to take my blood pressure. It was 140/109, which I have since learned is ridiculously high for a 34 year-old young fella like myself. I had my blood pressure taken at work each day the following week. 150/103. 138/91. These are not good numbers, as the first should be around 120 and the second should be below 80.

High blood pressure runs in my family. My father is on 3 different medications for it following heart surgery several years ago (on St. Patrick’s Day, of all days). My paternal grandfather had it, and my grandmother has it. This family history, plus with the reality that I drink like a fish, eat what I want, rarely (if ever) exercise and am roughly 30 lbs. overweight, means I have a problem.

I could conceivably fucking die from this.

So, I made an appointment with my doctor, who can’t see me until the end of May (I know, I know…get a new doctor, Piper). When he does, he will most assuredly tell me to stop drinking and to exercise more. He will also, in all likelihood, prescribe blood pressure medication.

In my short but colorful life thus far, I have managed to avoid any form of daily medication. In other words, I am not on allergy pills, diet pills, antidepressants, anti-anxiety medications, antipsychotics, anti-inflammatories, anti-fungals, STD inhibitors, painkillers or mood regulators. I do not consume recreational drugs (aside from alcohol), and never have. I take drugs when I’m sick, and then only grudgingly. Therefore, I'm a little perturbed about the prospect of being on daily medication for the rest of my fucking life. So I talked to my pharmacist, who happens to also be my father, and he gave me the good and bad points of being on blood pressure medication.

The good news is it will regulate my blood pressure so I won’t have a stroke or a heart attack at age 34. Also, it is very unlikely that the pressure in my veins will build until my eyeballs shoot out of my skull on fountains of blood, like a fire hydrant that’s been loosened. The bad news is I’ll have to limit my sodium and alcohol intake (two things I’m fond of), and I’ll have to exercise (something I loathe). Also, according to my father, high blood pressure medication will cause my libido to plummet, which is sort of good news, as anything that makes me jerk off less can only be a positive change.

Of course, if I lose about 20 lbs. or so before my appointment, drink less and watch what I eat, maybe I won’t have to go on medication at all. But that sucks, especially since I’m really into the cooking thing lately, and I want to try all kinds of great-looking recipes that aren’t all that good for you. I don’t mean they’re junk food, they’re just sautéed or braised in butter, oil, or cream; loaded with salt or covered in rich sauces or cheese. Not exactly low-calorie, low-fat fare. Also, although my fervor for gin martinis has cooled somewhat, I’m once again very interested in wine and pairing wine with my culinary endeavors, so I’ve been drinking a lot of wine lately. And did I mention that Sam Adams Summer Ale is officially back in stores?

Anyway, as my latest shaving obsession has proven, I may not live long enough to die from hypertension after all. “Old Sharpy”, my straight razor, might very well make the whole blood pressure concern irrelevant. I’ll be posting more about my shaving misadventures soon, but for now the score is “Old Sharpy”: 6, Angry Piper: 0.

However, for the record, I consider the fact that I still have both my ears and nostrils a minor victory.

The Score

Straight Razor: 3

Angry Piper: 0

God Bless You, Mr. Vonnegut

Kurt Vonnegut, Jr. died yesterday at age 84. He was, without question, my favorite contemporary author.

Vonnegut is most famous for writing his 1969 anti-war novel, Slaughterhouse-5, in which he recounted the WWII Allied firebombing of Dresden, Germany (an event Vonnegut personally witnessed and survived). Like many other students, my high school summer reading list included this novel. At the time, also like many other high school students, I failed to appreciate what I was forced to read. Five years would pass before I would re-read the book on my own.

Slaughterhouse-5 cast a long shadow over everything Vonnegut wrote before or since, and as a result his other novels were perhaps not read as much as they should have been. Although not considered among his best work, Vonnegut’s Bluebeard is the book I have recommended more times and to more people than I can possibly count. I buy several copies to give as Christmas presents each year, and I number it first among the few books that have literally changed the way I think about life. This month at Angrypiper.com I will review Bluebeard and what it means to me, which is a review I have long put off for fear of uncontrollably gushing forth an embarrassing amount of praise.

Vonnegut’s black humor and masterful prose place him firmly in the ranks of the world’s greatest satirists, men like Jonathan Swift, Mark Twain and James Thurber. He is one of only a handful of authors who have literally made me laugh out loud. Although he wrote less and less towards the end of his life, he never lost his sense of humor. In a nineties Discover card commercial, for example, Vonnegut claimed his credit card statement contained purchases of books he himself wrote. The commercial ended with a shot of him silently reading his work, then erupting in laughter.

In 2005’s A Man Without a Country, Vonnegut offered this criticism of the current political administration: “The last thing I ever wanted was to be alive when the three most powerful people on the whole planet would be named Bush, Dick and Colon.”

Rest in peace, Kurt. Even at age 84, you died too soon.

So it goes.

Happy Easter, Everyone