The doctor diagnosed me with possible PVC (premature ventricular contractions) and made me go for a blood test. When the lab results came back, imagine my shock and surprise when I was told that I had hyperlipidemia (it's basically high cholesterol in doctor-speak).
Look at me (in a recent photo I took with Dad. Please excuse my horrendously huge forehead.):
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Do I look like I have high cholesterol?
I don't look it, right?
But I do.
The doctors could very well put me up as the poster child of this dangerous disease.
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If I ever end up endorsing something like that, I'd die crying.
Anyway, because of the possibility that I may collapse again and not be so lucky the second time around (like the 25-year-old, fit-as-a-tree Captain who collapsed and died of heart failure about 3 weeks ago during our Army Half Marathon), the doctor and my superiors feel that I shouldn't take part in any strenuous activities. And that's why I've just been posted out of my company and sent to serve in our medical centre instead. I start work there tomorrow when my fellow friends fly off to Brunei.
Sigh. I'll really miss them.
This also means that I am not going to be able to get the red beret anymore. After so many months of slogging through training, it is a rather disappointing prospect. Right now, I just want to focus on getting well and not die young. I've got so much more to live for.
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