“I think I’ve discovered,” I told Kate. “I may not need blood-pressure medicine.”
“Have you told our family doctor?”
“Not yet. I thought I’d start with someone who knows me.”
“That could work against you.”
I explained that my father had been a wonderful dentist, much loved by his patients.
Unfortunately, when he discovered I hadn’t brushed, he sometimes filled my teeth without anesthetic.
“So when someone in a medical office tells me to relax,” I said, “part of me checks for an escape route.”
“That seems reasonable.”
“The assistant puts the cuff on me. My blood pressure goes up. She tells me to relax. It goes higher. Then she looks worried.”
“What happened this time?”
“She left the room. I did my breathing exercises. When she came back, my pressure was perfect.”
“Perhaps she should leave more often. How does this breathing work?”
“Ten seconds in. Hold for ten. Ten seconds out. Then ten seconds without breathing.”
Kate seemed curious or she was getting ready to ambush me. Best to throw her off guard.
“There’s an interesting history behind the technique. When you don’t breath and then you do, you take a number of fast breaths. Apparently, prostitutes use it to convince customers they’ve climaxed,” I said.
A small silence followed.
“You might lead with something else when you explain it to the doctor,” she said.
“I’m simply giving you the background.”
“You’ve gone from your father’s dental practice to a brothel in under a minute. I’m trying to keep up.”
“The point is, my blood pressure came down.”
“While you were taking blood-pressure medicine?”
“Yes.”
“Then perhaps the medicine helped.”
I considered this.
“You sound like our doctor.”
“One of us should.”
“So you think I should keep taking meds?”
“I think you should ask our MD about a twenty-four-hour monitor.”
“And meanwhile?”
“Keep breathing.”
“Ten seconds in—”
“Jaron. I’ve been married to you for 40 years. I know how to fake being relaxed.”
