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HAVING A HEART TO
HEART WITH ALCOHOL
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I went to my annual visit with my cardiologist the other day
and placed my bets. He told me the odds of me dying from a heart attack in
the next 10 years were about 7 to 1.
"That's wonderful news," I exclaimed. "I'll be
delighted to make a wager because if I lose I won't have to pay up because
I'll be dead."
I would have never thought cardiologists would issue odds, but
I was wrong. He took my vital statistics, including, among other things, age
(70) cholesterol levels (low), blood pressure (slightly high), exercise
regimen (legendary) and diet and alcohol consumption (needs work) and
calculated a 15% chance of croaking within 10 years.
Well, not necessarily croaking. He actually said a "heart
event." But let's face it, a "heart event" doesn't sound
good. The Las Vegas odds are going with croaking.
I've been fascinated with the heart since I was first diagnosed
with mild atrial fibrillation back in my 30's. I had an echocardiogram done,
and I watched as my little heart muscle flexed and flexed again on the
screen.
It looked like it was working so hard, and it dawned on me that
it never gets a break. Brains need sleep, other muscles need rest, but
hearts just go on and on and on. An average of 100,000 beats a day, pumping
5.6 liters of blood three times per minute. Nonstop.
Giving it the respect it deserves has got to help my chances.
While 15% puts me in the "intermediate" category (7.5% to 19.9%),
it would be nice to get down to "low" (less than 5%) or at least
borderline (5.1% to 7.4%). But I was thrilled to avoid the "high"
(20% and up).
So I asked my cardiologist the obvious question about how to
improve my chances and he gave me the obvious answer. "Improve your
diet and cut back on your alcohol consumption."
Like all doctors, he had asked me how many drinks I consumed on
an average day. Like almost all patients, I lied.
"Seldom more than two a day," I replied. "I
enjoy a beer when I get home and maybe a glass of wine with dinner."
He asked me what kind of beer and I told him an IPA. He said
that's 1 ½ beers because of its high alcohol content. And when he asked me
how much wine was in my one glass (it was seldom a four ounce pour), I knew
I was in trouble.
"You're probably drinking 3-4 glasses a day when all is
said and done," he snottily said. "You need to cut back."
Doctors can be so irritating. But I went home and told my wife
that I was reducing my alcohol intake to seven drinks per week, just like
the doctor ordered.
"And why is that?" she asked, doubting I would ever
be that disciplined.
"Because my cardiologist says I can reduce my 15% chance
of having a heart event in the next 10 years by improving my diet and
alcohol intake, that's why."
Naturally, she wanted to know how he got the percentage so we
went online and found a heart attack probability calculator from the Mayo
Clinic and put in all my pertinent information. Sure enough, it came out at
15%.
"Let's do yours," I suggested. "I want to see if
you're going down with me."
She readily agreed, mainly because she likes competing with me
when she knows she's going to win. We entered the information and let's just
say she got a percentage that left me in the dust.
"It's because you're a woman and a year younger than
me," I meekly retorted as I envisioned her living alone.
"Or maybe it's because I have a much healthier diet and
don't drink as much as you," she haughtily replied.
I pulled a non-alcoholic beer out of the fridge and sucked it
down. "This is the new me," I said. "I'll be in single digit
heart attack probability soon."
"Besides," I added. "If I don't drink anything
Sunday through Thursday, which is what I used to do in my youth, I can have
three drinks on Friday and four on Saturday for my seven drinks in a
week."
That's probably not what my cardiologist had in mind, but it's
a start.
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