Growing up, it was only natural that I was curious about my biological background. Who do I look like? Where do I come from? My focus was always superficial. But when I hit my mid-twenties, I found myself facing some health issues. Then, my focus became medical. What health issues could be genetic? What should I be on the lookout for? No, biology isn't always a definite indicator of medical needs, but it can certainly help in preventative medicine and in diagnosing problems.
The information that I had was minimal at best. So, I set out in search of answers in an attempt to build a stronger knowledge base for my health when I was about 25 years old. I was already dealing with asthma and allergies, and around the age of 26, discovered that I suffered from high blood pressure and sleep apnea. I was also obese and struggling with mild depression.
My weight had been at the forefront of my mind for many years. As a child, I was chubby but in the cute way. As a teenager, it was no longer cute. Despite my playing soccer for three years in high school (not well, I won't deny it), and riding horses competitively, I always seemed to be about 20-30 pounds heavier than I should. College came and I stopped playing soccer; my skills were not even close to being on par for a college level team. I continued to ride, but it wasn't enough. Soon I was 40-50 pounds overweight. After my junior year of college, I cut my riding time in half, and joined the student newspaper. I spent more time at a computer than I did outside getting exercise. Our office was located in the campus center, right upstairs from the Cafe. Chef Jeff's famous cookies became a staple in my diet, as did chicken fingers and french fries. By the time I graduated, I wasn't riding at all. By the age of 21, I was closer to being 70 pounds overweight.
College ended and real life began. Commuting to work and a new desk job were exciting and I put all my time and energy into my position. A new position presented itself before my current one ended, so I balanced two jobs for a month. Working long hours, adjusting to a new situation, it was high stress and I opted for fast food over fresh food and rarely exercised.
The understatement of the year was that I didn't take care of myself. I'd go through a week or two here or there of eating right and exercising, but then I'd fall back to my old ways and settle for convenience options. Lazing on the couch was easier than running a mile, so I put my efforts into creating a permanent dent in my cushions instead of improving my health.
At the age of 25, I was about 130 pounds overweight, and I found myself needing emergency surgery. My poor diet and lack of exercise had caught up with me, among other things. A simple ultrasound in the morning turned into surgery within hours. My gallbladder was infected and my organs were on the verge of shutting down. I could have died, within a matter of days. That gave me a good shake, and I spent the next few months eating better and losing about 30 pounds.
Fast forward two years. I gained back those 30 pounds, plus another 10 or 20. One night, I walked out of my office and collapsed to the floor. I quickly picked myself up and looked around to see if anyone noticed. I had no idea why I fell. I didn't trip, I didn't remember being dizzy or woozy. I just fell. Chalk it up to being oblivious, I thought. Until I mentioned it to the school nurse, who promptly took my blood pressure. Through the roof.
The doctor cited that obviously my weight was a factor in my HBP. At this point in my life, I was nearly 150 pounds overweight, and extremely unhealthy. Regardless of this glaring factor in my illness, my doctor wanted to know more about my medical history, as did I.
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