Nearly ten years ago, a doctor told me diabetes would kill me, it was just a matter of how soon. I couldn't see the benefit of his ugly, callous prediction. I couldn't see the benefit of being locked into a medical relationship with someone who saw me as a hopeless expiration date. I decided even with long waits and insurance hurdles, it would always be worth it to find doctors who are supportive and try to understand me as a person.
Today, I broke up with
I'm not convinced he's not a good doctor, but he's not a good fit for me. He has been seeing me for two months to help me prepare for another baby, but I don't think he knows anything about me. Our appointments last less than 5 minutes, he gives me vaguely shaming advice to lose weight, "start" exercising, stop being diabetic. He has never asked me whether I exercise, what I eat, what I do to control my diabetes. He has made assumptions about my lifestyle based on my appearance, …
When I got pregnant the second time, I was waiting for that stage to end before I would live my life. Exercise, activities with kids, travel, writing, house projects... Then after the Lizzie came and things were so complicated, I still found myself waiting until she was older, waiting to get out of tangle of doctor appointments.
Then I was planning to start life after both kids were in school, at least three years away! Enough!
Anything I want to do can be adapted to start now, incorporating the kids and whatever challenges we face in our plans.
Some dreams may be better suited for the future, but there will be no more blanket attitude of putting things off for later when it would presumably be easier or less busy. There is no perfect time, but the best time could be now.
I was prepared to ask for a do-over on Week 1 of 2018. I have legit excuses, right? Husband rang in the new year in a hospital bed far away from home? We barely got back home by midnight on Wednesday -- half the week was gone before it even started!
Last night (Saturday), I was about 50 percent done with my ambitious plans for the week.
But it turns out that Sunday can be a powerful day for productivity.
Today, a miracle happened: I unpacked my suitcase less than a week after returning from a trip.
Then another miracle happened: I organized my sock drawer.
And another: I convinced Nick to run an errand and bring me coffee while I took a bath in the middle of the afternoon.
As it turns out, this whole week telescoped to pack in so many things a normal, less magical week would not have accommodated: We spent three extra days in Atmore with family, and got to see a full supermoon in the country -- it would not have been possible from our house in San Antonio.Lizzie used that bonus grandpa…