I scheduled a physical so I could point out to myself that I
was overworked, eating poorly, and doing bad things to my health. Clearly the
doctor would tell me this.
“You’re basically reasonably healthy,” she told me. I shook
my head.
At work the next day, my phone showed two voicemails from
the doctor’s office. Too overworked to respond before her office closed, of
course, I was unable to schedule the requested follow-up visit to discuss my
bloodwork until the following week. All weekend, I thought, I knew it. I knew there was something. I
wondered what it could be. Anemia? Vitamin something deficiency? Some rare
disease caused by lack of sunshine or creative engagement? I’ve never lacked
for imagination, clearly.
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