My New Doctor

For years I assigned my primary health needs to an out-of-the-way urgent care doctor not covered by my insurance.  I liked him because he accepted my self diagnoses and treatment recommendations.  I had to end things with my enabling doc-in-the-box when his medical license was revoked recently. 

A friend advised I establish more regular care with his Eastern medicine practitioner.  I pictured a calm, soothing provider who recommended herbs and massage.  Not so much.  My new doctor doesn’t have one crystal in her office.  Furthermore, she’s a Cross Fit junkie who thinks sugar is the devil. 

My new doctor proposed acupuncture to help my various aches and pains and, perhaps, release the dragons encouraging my gummy bear problem and tendencies toward slothfulness.  As I braced for the tiny needles, she pointed at my bared abdomen and said, “What’s this?”

“Oh!  That’s just some wreckage.  The women in my family aren’t really ‘abs ladies.’  We’re the more the leggy types.  We all have a lovely turn of the ankle.”

“What’s your favorite thing to do?”


“No, for exercise.  What’s your favorite exercise activity?”

“Savasana.”  When she didn’t respond I said, “You know – corpse pose.  Yoga.”

“What about Vinyasa Yoga?  That really gets your heart rate up.”

“It sure does!  I don’t do Vinyasa.  My mother used to watch Lilias on PBS.  I like her style.”

“You need sprints and heavy weight lifting.  And quit the gummy bears.  What are you, like, six-years-old?”

“No, but eating gummy bears makes me feel like it.  Are there any herbs you recommend?”  She didn’t answer.  She pierced.

I’ve known for a while it’s time to ditch the gummy bears and exercise more.  Part of me wants to deadlift 200 pounds and run with sandbags.  It’s easily usurped by other parts.  I hoped my new doctor would endorse those parts.  She didn’t.  Instead she reminded me I usually know what’s good for me.  Most of us do.  We could just use support in the how, where, and when of getting it.  This new doctor is good for me.  She’s willing to hold me accountable and not be foiled by my shenanigans.  I’ll miss my pre-filled-prescription-pad provider all the same.

Photo by Brett Hondow/strop@live.com

Whitney Cain