Good news/bad news, diabetics division

Yesterday started with a trip to the National College of Natural Medicine, aka NCNM.  It's located in a little triangle between Barbur and the Ross Island Bridge's on and off streets.  I have been driving past it for years, without knowing it was there.  And it's quite a large campus.  The main building is an old elementary school, a long brick 3-story building with tall windows and imposing entrance, the sort of school McMenamin's might want to renovate.  I know, because instead of going to the clinic, I walked up the steps into the school.  Long hallways, with stairwells at the ends, tall tall ceilings, transoms over the doors, wood moldings, linoleum floors, the unmistakable scent of old school building.

I walked down the echoing, gleaming hall, transported back to my high school days.  The place seemed empty of life, except for one door to my right, which was ajar with light streaming out.  Glancing at the door, the sign said nothing about research, so I walked past it to the end of the hall, which T'd into another hall that led to stairwells and side entrances.  Straight ahead it led down stairs to another entrance.  It was the typical grid arrangement, with no sign of offices or lobbies or auditoria, although there were some comfy chairs lining the walls at strategic points.  It didn't seem like a place to meet a research associate,  so I turned back to the open door

It didn't look like it had ever been a classroom, but it was possible that it had been chopped up into a suite of rooms.  The entry area had a desk situated at right angles to the open doorway, with a nice young woman seated behind a computer.  I asked for my contact, H, and she puzzled over it a few moments:  did I want her office?  No, I think she was planning to meet me in the lobby, but I didn't see any lobby.  I pulled up the message, which I had fortunately left open on Paddy (the iPad.)  Ah yes, the clinic, not the school.  So she walked me into the hall, pointed back the way I had come and directed me to go out and to the left.  The clinic would be at the base of the small hill/street, with a sign on the side.

Indeed, the sign covered the whole top half of the building, visible from the bridge, now that I knew where to look.  It was a much less charming building, a typical office building, 70's style, with open window-walled stairwells to the left of the door.  I found the lobby area, complete with tea offerings in which I was not allowed to partake, as I was on a 12-hour water fast.

H arrived and took me to a windowless office upstairs, where we went through the details of the study, I signed consent forms, gave her info about the drugs I was taking, and allowed her to take a blood pressure cuff to my wrist and a tape measure to my waist.  I am not revealing the number, but it was not a happy moment.  Then we walked down the hall to a scale.  I am the same height I ever was, and the weight was back down to what has become my current level.  Back down the stairs to the lab, where we waited for Nikki the needle woman.

All of this was preparation for possible participation in a test of a new form of hibiscus, prepared to help with glucose and cholesterol levels in pre-diabetics.  I was being tested for the 5 qualifying conditions:  waist over 35", high blood pressure, blood glucose over 100, cholesterol over 200, LDL over 146, triglycerides over 150.  What was in it for me?  a free blood test worth $100, and, if I qualified, $100.  Also, in the long term, the possible production of a helpful formulary.

My blood pressure was the usual low number. I liked the cuff.  Instead of pushing my sleeve up to my armpit and pumping away at the cuff, H took a grey puffy bracelet and clipped it around my left wrist.  I put my left hand on my right shoulder and my left elbow was propped up by my right hand.  Sitting in this modified sphinx position, I waited while H pushed a button on the cuff and it slowly squeezed tight and released.  I read the digital display.  117/63.  Typical.  We waited a moment, then tried again.  A little higher on the top number.  Third time, a little lower.  I'm mellow as a cello, and dying for my morning coffee.

Nikki is a vivacious Goth type. Her name tag reads Nikki Tesla, and I ponder whether to comment on it. Finally I say, "do you get many comments on your name?"  Turns out it's a leftover from Halloween.  Usually she dresses as a vampire and comes into the room saying, "oh good, lunch!"  This year she was a mad scientist.   I get bonus points for recognizing the joke.

The needle is deftly, almost painlessly inserted, and she massages my wrists.  I'm unclear as to the reason:  is she getting the blood to flow, or trying to relax my jitters?  In either case, it works.  And then I'm done.  H promises to call me the next day with the results, and as I walk to the car, I notice a labyrinth off to the side of the clinic.  Although walking a labyrinth just off the highway doesn't appeal, I decide to try it on my next visit, if I am qualified for the study.

And I am.  The details:  Cholesterol, 236.  Triglycerides, 191.  LDL, 146.  Glucose levels, 106.  Oy.