Tuesday, July 7, 2009

Oh, grow up.

I rarely go to the doctor. Usually, a visit is the result of something I just can't will away, such as a bronchial infection lasting three weeks straight, a broken ankle (not the same day I broke it, mind you - a couple of days later because I was busy), or a kidney stone. Yeah, that one hurt.

So visiting a doctor proactively, just to chat about the state of my things, is an act of maturity, of accepting the fact that I am, indeed, just a tad older than my mind thinks I am.

I had to choose a new doctor because the last one decided she wanted to go concierge - as in, pay a lump sum up front and get lots of her personal attention. Can't afford that one.

I met Dr. Norman and found her to be a kindred spirit. She's brisk and kind, adept and insightful. Both of her kids (now grown) have Crohn's Disease, so we shared war stories. And she has me signed up for all kinds of grown-up adventures. Let's just say that parts of me inside and out will soon emerge in living color.

It's time to stop my reign as the Queen of Denial and start facing reality. My husband and kids deserve no less.

Have you scheduled your physical this year?

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