March 3, 2022
Yesterday was my annual checkup with my GP. Though I’m generally healthy, it’s not something I look forward to. It feels, too, that everyone in the office is on-edge, and the whole thing is pretty clinical bordering on dehumanizing. What do I expect: essential oils and candlelight? I like my MD very much, and he is a thoughtful and caring physician. He listens to me and is much more effusive than I expect. It’s just everything else: cryptic charges that the insurance company won’t pay; bossy phlebotomists; antiseptic waitrooms lit by fluorescent lights; no WiFi and poor LTE. Everyone is nice enough, so maybe it’s just me. Probably.
My LDL levels have jumped up since August. It’s always something. It’s a sizable spike, so maybe it’s a fluke. Still, it’s what I need to get back to being strict about my diet. No worries there. I also got the first shot of the shingles vaccine, recommended for those of us over-50. I love being in that category. Henry even remarked that by the time he was my age, I will be dead. Yeah, kid, probably.
The vaccine hit me hard: I have a headache, tingly skin, shivers, and the general feeling of a dirty sock being kicked around the floor. It seems to fit the foul mood I’ve been in lately. Autumn has even mentioned it. Maybe I need more exercise? Start drinking again? Not today. I don’t even have a desire to drink alcohol. Man.
Welcome to March. At least I have a spring-break trip to the beach coming up in two weeks. God, I’m turning into my mom.
In good news: the second season of Picard started last night, so I’ll be watching that today. Damn skippy.