A suitably dramatic end

Blood pressure monitoring becomes fascinating over 40. A jolt of caffeine can have an impact. Crackers can move the dial. Cardiovascular exercises.....perhaps it's anything that begins with a "c". Yes, that sounds about right. Children begins with a "c", and I know they effect my blood pressure.

I bought a blood pressure monitor that fits on my wrist. I press a little button, and it gives me a read-out of blood pressure and pulse. It's quite diverting.

The thing is, I don't have high blood pressure.

The thing is, I need it to be low blood pressure. Otherwise, my aneurysm could expand and rupture, and I could perish in a dramatic and sudden manner. You've no idea how such a death appeals to me. Not like I want to die, you understand. It's only that I accept the inevitability of death, and I'd like the event to have some aplomb.
Ironically, my life post-diagnosis has been structured to avoid such a death. I eschew salt and cholesterol. My caffeine intake is limited, as is any alcohol indulgence. I no longer run, and can't lift weights above 30 pounds. I own a blood pressure monitor and a Cardiologist, and one of those pill boxes like a Christmas Advent Calendar. (The pill box is silver plated, and engraved. It was a gag-gift from my sister on the 40th birthday. Who knew I'd employ it in all seriousness a year later?)
So, I'm rather an old lady. Give me a minute and I'll be doing water aerobics.

It's really irritating, to be honest.

My future holds the assurance of surgery, though the goal is to forstal that by a decade. Meanwhile, I eat salad and refrain from sudden movements. And I complain.