I’ve been feeling a touch…unsettled, today.
I think it has to do with the dermatologist appointment from last week. The one I very nearly cancelled because I was so overscheduled that day.
The one I didn’t cancel. Because if there’s one thing I’ve learned from Mom after all these years, it’s that playing the martyr and putting yourself last gets you on the fast track to heart disease and diabetes.
So I went. And without going into details, the dermatologist ordered blood tests to check for PCOS. Polycystic Ovary Syndrome. Got the blood drawn on Friday.
I didn’t think much of it, at the time. I had an idea of what it was after a friend was diagnosed with it a few years ago. No big deal, I figured. I supposed it’s better to know that not.
And now I’m scared.
I have several symptoms. But here’s the scariest part, for me. It leads to a higher risk of heart disease and diabetes.
Just what I’ve been trying to avoid for the last ten years.
I’ve worked so hard. And succeeded. And then failed. And failed. And succeeded. Then failed for a while.
I knew the extra 100 pounds I’m carrying would catch up with me. Eventually.
But I lost 60 pounds! On two separate occasions! (But put all but 25 back on.)
So part of me is saying. “What’s the point? Your mom’s entire family suffered from heart disease. It’s already killed her three YOUNGER siblings. What makes you think YOU’RE getting out of it?”
“Well,” I answer myself, “I’m younger. There’s a lot more research that’s been done. I have the benefit of so much more knowledge. I work out (sometimes). I eat better (except for when I don’t). My parents and grandparents never drank green tea or stirred protein powder into their oatmeal.”
“You can’t escape your genes!” part of me leers.
“Maybe not,” I concede to myself, “but they’re only part of the equation. I can certainly better my odds.”
“Oh, sure you can,” I taunt sarcastically. “And when do you have time for that? In between taking care of your mom and your kids? Your dog and your cats? Your house and your car? Your blog and your tweets?”
At what point, I wonder, do I stop and put myself first? Because that’s what needs to happen if I’m going to get serious about my health.
FUDGE (as Mr. Hoagie likes to say. He cleans it up for the kids.)!