Anemia Is No Excuse (Because I'm Not Anemic)

I had a physical last week. It had been a while since my last one, which was shortly before my COBRA ran out. (Yes, for a while I was uninsured. But I'm back, paying into the system, which is what you want from a young-ish, relatively healthy person.)

It's kind of perverse, but I'd been hoping that my bloodwork was going to show I was anemic. I had issues a long time ago (which is why I don't donate blood any more), and for a while now, I've been... sluggish. On and off. Tired. Unfocused. Having trouble getting things done.

If I was anemic, I'd have an excuse, not to mention a handy little solution in pill form.

As it turns out, I'm not anemic. So I have to look at other factors: Malaise. Age. Poor sleeping habits. Bad habits I picked up during my unplanned sabbatical. The latent environmental influence of the slacker generation. Guilty conscience. Something.

About the only other thing that I learned (other than my doctor really likes his iPhone, especially the Line2 VOIP app) is that my bloodwork shows I'm on the high end of normal for one thing, though I'll apparently be okay as long as I follow my doc's advice:

"Don't get fat."

Personally, I'm not convinced that it wasn't an artifact of the large meal I ate before I started my 12-hour fast -- we'll see.

Anyway, I've been trying to get back on a regular workout schedule, with some success (also, I haven't hurt my back again, which is something), as well as moving my sleep schedule back into something approaching East Coast standard (with less success).