"Guinness"

         I rule the world when it comes to high cholesterol. Year after year, my total pushes to 300 or nudges above a tad. When this first happened, my doctors slapped me onto a statin. I danced along happily for several years. The initial body aches and pains I experience I attributed to adding weights to my cardio workout. The crippling hobble I developed came from the higher heels I wore to a new job. When I felt like a steamroller had pressed me into the pavement, I mentioned it to my sister because the pain pulsed from the tips of my fingers down to my toes.

         “That’s your statin!” she cried. “Stop taking it now. Call your doctor on Monday.”

         I followed her advice and began, with my doctor, the rollercoaster ride of experimenting with various medications to control my cholesterol. Inevitably, we went through everything on the market with side effects punching me down immediately or sneakily creeping up to surprise me months down the line.

         After a while, we agreed to embrace my high cholesterol levels until something else came along. I tried adding red wine (specifically the dry Italian ones) to my diet, but found my stomach hated even a single nightly glass. I bumped up my oat intake and ate avocados daily. I burned out on the diet, and it barely made a ripple in any of my levels.

         About six months ago, I read an article about the benefits of adding one bottle of Guinness to your evening meal. It contains “antioxidant compounds that slow down the deposits of cholesterol on artery walls which reduces the risk of blood clots and ultimately heart attacks.” I decided immediately that this was a delightfully easy experiment for me! I don’t drink. Beer tastes like piss to me. But Guinness? There’s nothing like sipping a pint in an Irish pub that pulses with music and good cheer. I knew this challenge, a pint a night, could be successfully slipped into my daily routine.

         Yesterday, I sat across from my doctor’s PA as she read off the brightly red flagged numbers. She puzzled that my HDL levels were extremely high—higher than they’ve ever been, and my triglycerides had dipped down low enough for me to add Fish Oil to my diet to possibly nudge the numbers even lower. My overall “score” hadn’t changed, and she wondered about the cause of the shifts she saw.

         “That’s the Guinness,” I exclaimed.

         “Guinness?”

         “I read a study about its benefits and added it to my evening meal back in January.”

         She turned back to the computer screen, musing, “I read the same study. Good to know that it’s an option I can discuss with other patients.”

         Granted, the red warning boxes on my test results flag every medical professional I’ve ever talked to. I’m in perfect health EXCEPT FOR . . . those little squares. To see some kind of difference after a few months gives us hope that the trend may continue in a downward direction.

         In the meantime, anyone want a pint?

Copyright 2018 Elizabeth Abrams Chapman