This isn’t really about food or anything related to cooking or baking, but as Brent says, the blog is like my diary so I may as well use it like one. I have high cholesterol. Like alarmingly “you need to be under the care of a physician immediately” high cholesterol. I’ve talked about it on the blog before, and mentioned that I’m not super comfortable with relying on pharmaceuticals to “fix” it. Most of my concern with pills comes from the fact that “long-term study” is relative, and most people do not begin taking these types of medications in their 20s and continue to take them for the next 60 years. Now that is seriously long-term. Also, the class of medications used to treat high cholesterol, the statins, cause significant damage to developing fetuses, and while I’m not currently nor do I plan to become pregnant any time in the near future, this is a concern to me as a married woman in the prime of her child-bearing years. No one can say for sure what’s going to happen and that’s a risk I’m unwilling to take.
Where was I going? Oh right, I’m a hypocrite. So as a nursing student, I am taught daily about patient education and the important of ensuring patients understand medical advice and why following it will help them improve their condition/prevent disease/living a longer life. I am basically ignoring all medical advice (and plenty from my family as well) because I don’t feel “comfortable” with it. I’ve really been thinking lately about what that means for my health (especially my future health) and whether I’m ignoring this advice because I am truly apprehensive about the pills or whether I’m just being stubborn and refusing to believe there is something “wrong” with me. My friends and family know I feel the need “to be in control,” and I think the idea that there is an aspect of my body or my health that I can’t control really upsets me.
So here I am, super high cholesterol and not on medication for it. And I still eat pizza and ice cream and a million other things I probably “shouldn’t.” That frustrates me sometimes. I feel like an idiot when I think about the fact I eat food like that while still refusing medical intervention. I know it’s absolutely ridiculous to think I would never eat such things again. I guess I just feel like if I’m not going to be “perfect,” then maybe I ought to listen to the doctors. I just really don’t know, which is a scary feeling in itself.
There’s no real point to this post other than to say I’m struggling. And it kind of sucks.