Wednesday, 15 February 2012

Z is not horrified

I can't remember all the details regarding figures, but the fact remains that I have passed muster.  My score of 7% seems to be okay (regarding the likelihood of having a stroke or heart attack in the next ten years, that is), since it would have required a score of over 20% for me to be referred to the doctor.  I think it might have been as high as it is because my father died of a heart attack at the age of 59 and my mother had a stroke when in her late 30s.  My own health is practically perfect and always has been.

I'll probably be knocked over by a speeding bicycle instead,

I haven't been on my own bike for a few weeks.  It is a point for me to ponder that, when my hip hurt and I was trying to stave off an operation, I stoically pedalled into town daily, almost whatever the weather.  Although the exercise would be a good thing now, my hip doesn't hurt much and I haven't started to limp yet, so I don't have the motivation, not in this cold weather.  Knowing that it would be a good thing isn't enough.  If a doctor told me to do it, I would.  Probably.  Mind you, if I'd been told that I was overweight today, I'd have been sufficiently unhappy to do it.  Certainly.  But I was told my BMI put me in the green category, i.e. normal (while mildly chubby, of course) so I merely feel guilty while not actually doing anything about it.

I've a feeling that this isn't unusual.  We all know what we should do (or stop doing) but we need a jolt, an impetus, to get us going.  I remember when my stepfather had a heart attack and was told to stop smoking.  "No one told me it was bad for my heart," he said plaintively.  My mother, who had told him exactly that and had begged him to stop, had to bite her tongue quite hard.  He'd not heard what he didn't want to hear.  One understands, however.  I know perfectly well how to lose weight - move more, eat less.  There's nothing wrong with what I eat, it'd be far easier if it were a case of cutting out the daily crisps and chocolate biscuits, but I don't eat them - well, once in a blue moon.  But I need to be horrified into doing it.  Dammit.

6 comments:

Scarlet Blue said...

**whispers: alcohol**
**wanders away before getting slapped**
Sx

Z said...

That was Weeza's first question too, Scarlet, and I didn't slap her either.
I owned up to daily alcohol. The nurse did kindly equate a glass (having asked if I drank it in small or large glasses) with a unit, but fed the data into the computer and no alarm bells sounded.

Lois (three-legged-cat) said...

Glad to her you passed your MOT!

Unlike you, I am a little horrified. My Mum suffered a stroke last summer, which has definitely provided me with the impetus to get fitter.

I wasn't a complete sloth beforehand, but there were weeks when there were a lot of deadlines looming when I became distinctly sedentary.

john.g. said...

If you enjoy it, eat it/drink it, but moderate it! Here endeth the lesson!

Z said...

I know, Lois, it's when I'm busy that there is little time for cycling - it just takes too long to get between places. But when I was told I'd need a new hip in the next few years, I suddenly was able to make time.

Amen, dear heart.

63mago said...

Fear IS a great motivator.