If You Dig It, Don't Do It

If you dig it, don't do it
And if you like it, better leave it alone
And if it's too much fun that ought to clue you son
That you're probably doing something that's wrong
--Little Charlie and the Nightcats

If you have a minute (and it’s Friday, so c’mon), click this link and give a good listen to this tune by Little Charlie and the Nightcats.  It really sets the mood for this blog post.

As you might guess after listening, this week and last were full of appointments for annual checkups.  I seem to have a rather unlucky relationship with most physicians, and in the past I have been misdiagnosed with Lupus, cancer (twice), and even a brain tumor!

So I hope you understand that I was quite nervous about my recent rounds of preventive healthcare maintenance.  Seems my doc conversations these days always begin with “At your age,” or “Understandably…” and get worse from there.

I have been poked and prodded, mashed, x-rayed, and spent thirty minutes with a rather nice dermatologist who eyeballed every inch of my skin.  These docs have seen more of my body than my lovely husband ever has

And while I’m no physical fitness saint, I’m not usually the doctor’s worst nightmare either.  So I’m always surprised by how disappointed they seem by my “levels" and vices!

Makes me wonder sometimes if I should just throw my usual health regimens to the wind.  I mean, if you do all the right stuff (well ok, most of the right stuff) and the health gods are still unhappy, what the heck is the point?

There is something about sitting around in an ill-designed flapping gown waiting for someone in authority to tell me WHAT IS WRONG that makes me suffer from what they call SEVERE STRESS.

I try to tell myself I’m in control and that I’m doing good things by getting checkups.  And that I’m not really sitting there waiting to hear what is wrong, but what is right and good and commendable.

But that’s not how it feels, is it?

You need to lose some weight, you need to stand up straight.
 Boy, your posture is a terrible disgrace
You need to suck in your gut, you need to tuck in your butt,
 you need to clear them zits up off of your face.

And I kept waitin' and waitin' for the man to finish,
 but the sucker just went on and on... on and on... and on.
  –Little Charlie and the Nightcats

If any of you can offer suggestions on how to NOT feel like a helpless twit in these circumstances, I would love to hear your comments.  Or, just come on over for a drink or two and some dessert J.  For now I gotta run, really!

Marianne M. Smith

Writer At The Ranch

Making You Look Brilliant One Word At A Time

http://www.writerattheranch.com
wordsmith@writerattheranch.com