So we’ve covered workouts, nutrition, and sleep (or incredible lack thereof). Now let’s talk about DOCTORS.
You kinda need a whole team of them to keep the body tickin’ and your health in check, but I prefer to think of my various doctors as my entourage, their white coats blowing back as they walk slow motion toward me, clipboards in hand, crocs ready for some asskicking if that’s what’s necessary to keep my temple fit. Although actually, my OBGYN wears some killer heels. That lady’s got serious style, which is nice because I’d prefer to focus on her fabulous leopard print stillettos than what’s actually happening on that table.
I’ve been linin’ up the appointments and knockin’ ’em down, just like my goals. Yes, I know they can be a pain the scheduling ass, whether you’re concerned with missed office time or finding a place to stow several unruly children. But you know you have to do it. In the past month I have visited the following:
|Someday, this will be my corneal flap.|
My eye doctor. I love him unnaturally. He takes care of my peepers and also chats with me about my running while firmly reminding me that I am not meant to sleep in my contacts and threatening me with glasses. (You may not have guessed it, but I am quite vain. I don’t like glasses and I am convinced they don’t like me either.) What does this appointment have to do with fitness, aside from the obvious?
Well, I detest wearing glasses during any sweaty activity. They slip, they slide, they hinder my wiping-away-of-the-sweat. Also, if I am wearing glasses, that likely means I’ve got an eye infection of some sort. Which means my eye(s) hurt. Which means I’m cranky (and when you add in the irritation of being a four-eyed mama, the situation is not good for anyone in the vicinity). So take care of your eyes, be they 20/20 blessings from the gods or bespectacled little windows to your soul. I am being extra special vigilant, as I am planning for LASIK within the next year. Cross all your fingers and toes for me, even the little ones. I long to join the non-corrective-lense-wearing crowd. I heard that’s where the cool kids are.
Next on my list? The gynocologist. WARNING! FEMALE TALK ALERT! I may use terms like “period” or “tampon” in the near future, so you men may want to avert your eyes. This is my least my absolute favorite appointment all rolled into one. I hate the actual procedures, but I do so adore my doctor. She is witty, sarcastic, and as previously stated, has great shoes. Never seen the same pair twice. We discussed my incredible fitness level, how awesome I am for completing my first marathon and Spartan race, and how absolutely adorable my children are (she really gets me). Then we discussed Hunter S. Thompson (I was reading Gonzo while waiting) and hey – all done! Time flies when you’ve got great convo, even when wearing nothing but a paper gown with your knees next to your ears. Check that off the list till next year!
|Now THAT’s a pillow.|
Yesterday was my very first visit to the dermatologist. As a transparently skinned person, I should have been going long before now just for checkups. Skin cancer is rather serious business and I’ve got the pale skin worth worrying about. But I waited until I had an issue – a small little painful something-or-other on my left ear that just wouldn’t heal up and go away…for a year. Naturally, about a month ago I read an article on skin cancer in Oxygen magazine and began tweaking out. Yesterday, as I chased the babe around the waiting room I got choked up imagining a time I wouldn’t be able to extricate him from the other families he continually tried to join (I suppose we have lost our luster), and by the time the doctor walked into the exam room I was ready for the worst.
I sleep on my left ear too much. I need to stop that. True story. A special pillow with an ear hole will be necessary if I can’t sleep on my right side or my back. Shot of cortisone and a follow up appointment in six weeks to be sure that I am, indeed, not sleeping on my left side is also required.
|Neither attractive nor fit.|
HOWEVER – I did learn my lesson. I have upped my sunblock and banished those inane voices from my youth that refuse to accept that tanning is bad and awful and unnecessary. And I will be adding in an overall skin checkup to my yearly arsenal of appointments.
All that’s left is the podiatrist (my runner’s feet need a bit of shock treatment before I subject them to distance training again), the regular ol’ family doc, and (yes, that is fear entering my nearsighted eyes) the dentist. I am overdue for a routine physical (and feeling quite cocky about it. I mean, come on.) and for my biyearly cleaning (a FitGal’s gotta have sparkle in her smile). But I’m going to make those appointments because I’m all about being a well rounded (and firmly muscled) FitGal. I wouldn’t skimp on my children’s healthcare, and I have recently come to realize that my care is equally important.
Plus, each appointment garners me at least an hour or two of uninterrupted reading, Facebook, or Zynga time. Stick a nonalcoholic frozen pina colada in my hand and that’s a vacation right there.