Blame genetics

When I was growing up, I got teased a lot because I was always the shortest one in my class. My mom is 4’11″ and my dad is 5’6″ on a good day, so my failsafe reply was “blame genetics.” It seems my genetics are once again making me the butt of an ugly joke.

A couple of weeks ago, my doctor told me the disheartening news that my triglycerides are high, most likely due to heredity. For those of you unschooled in all things medical, this means I need to lower my cholesterol. My doctor looked me in the eye and told me I should achieve this by lowering my carbs. I eat pretty healthy, but I do love my sugary baked goods. Almost all the good things in life are carbs. It was a very sad day.

After a weekend of decadent chocolate cake and fresh baked tortillas at Paco’s Tacos (how could I turn them down? I couldn’t make the tortilla lady cry!) I buckled down and started the regimen my doctor prescribed: fish oil pills and niacin.

Promptly after taking the niacin, which is a vitamin, I turned scarlet from head to toe. My skin itched and tingled, got hot and tight. This of course made me nervous, so my heart raced and my head pounded. It also happened to be my doctor’s one day off.

The nurse on duty was kind enough to inform me that this reaction was common, though not for a duration of over twenty minutes. Guess who walked around red-faced for thirty minutes? “Maybe,” the nurse said, “You might want to stop taking that for a while.” You think?

Heredity is having a good laugh.

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