It has been approximately 6 years since I last got a physical. Oh, I've meant to do it each year, but something always came up. I fell pregnant... twice. I had a tougher-than-usual model baby. I moved. I had to get a haircut. I needed to... um... (This is the point where I debate yelling "Look! Something shiny!" to distract you and then totally change topics.) Suffice it to say that if I have a hard time carving out the time to play the piano or read a chapter of a book, I really have a hard time making a doctor's appointment, finding a sitter and getting my sedentary bottom over to my primary care physician.
Avoiding the doctor, except when horribly ill, is really no different than avoiding the mechanic with your car. Sure, you can drive the car for a good long while without maintenance... but the car is going to hate you and refuse, eventually, to haul you around town. To shift this into the next gear, I'll say that no one in their right mind would own a Ferrari and then never change the oil or check the filters. I wanna be a Ferrari, baby, not a trashed Pinto.
Who is getting short-changed by avoiding a simple physical? Me. My husband. My kids. My friends. Even the Lord. Neglecting to take care of the vehicle my soul is adhered to is... insane. Let's face it: this Pinto-wanting-to-be-a-Ferrari body of mine has some serious high-mileage issues these days. The big 4-0 is just around the corner. My thyroid is half the gland it used to be, my brain feels like Swiss cheese lost in a foggy marsh, and my muscles and ligaments have all gone on strike - I need an overhaul if I'm going to make it another 40 years. And darnit, my family needs me. No, you know what? I need me to be able to do all the things I haven't done yet.
So... my homework for tomorrow is to schedule a physical. I'm sure all my fluids and filters will get checked. I even have a list of tests that need to be run (I sure hope my transmission is good for a long while...). I am worth taking care of the physical me.
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