I don’t like going to the doctor. Most Americans don’t, I think. My girls have a pediatrician, of course, and I never miss an appointment. I have my OBGYN, and as long as I am pregnant, I make those appointments as well. When it comes to my own health, however, I admit to being less responsible.
My husband is creeping up on the big 3-0, and as such, he is starting to feel the need to see a doctor on a regular basis. I think that’s a good idea, and I applaud his initiative…so long as he doesn’t drag me into it! I have PCOS (Polycystic Ovarian Syndrome) and as such I struggle to lose weight. I have written before about losing weight, but in recent months have felt too busy to worry about it. My husband has been pushing us to get active again and on a good diet, but… (insert your excuse here).
He decided to do something we haven’t done in years: he got a family doctor and went for a physical. Neither of us has had a physical in at least five years. You know the main thing I dislike about doctors? They tell you things you don’t want to hear. My husband, as it turns out, has slightly elevated cholesterol. He’s not even thirty, but he needs to go on a low-fat diet to get it under control. And I can’t very well put him on a diet and not go on it myself. No butter, no cream, no ice cream. Is the man trying to kill me?
To top that off, with my PCOS I really need to cut out carbohydrates. No potatoes, no rice, no grits, no anything good, ever. Ok, I am moping a little, you’ll have to forgive me. I am going to have to give up my two favorite things, fat and carbs and we’re going into the holidays. I know it’s something I need to do, but it doesn’t mean it’s easy.