I did a little “self care” earlier this week. I did it by not caring for myself. I went to the doctor.
I was sitting in the waiting area for my appointment and saw the mother of one of my patients. “Why are you here?” she asked. “I have a doctor’s appointment,” I replied. She got a curious look on her face, asking: “Don’t you doctors just take care of yourselves? I thought that was what doctors did.”
We do take care of ourselves. In fact, we do it far more often than we should. Being your own doctor allows for a lot of denial. When you spend your day advocating healthy lifestyles after you had trouble finding pants that would fit in the morning, denial is necessary. “Do as I say, not as I do.”
I realize that this is hypocrisy — that is why I was at the doctor on Monday. My patients have noticed my expanding waistline, commenting on it more than I would wish. Certainly my pants get in the way of denial as well, not forgiving the fact that I have been under a whole lot of stress. Pants don’t accept excuses.
So I found myself in the unfamiliar experience of being the patient. Instead of closing my mind and emotions to my own body, I had to frankly assess what I was doing to it. Standing on the scale was as frank of an assessment as I would ever want. Read more »
*This blog post was originally published at Musings of a Distractible Mind*