43 Years in Hiding
Copyright© 2012 by JPM
Chapter 4
My issues of the previous 43 years have caught up to me at different times of my life.
I knew I wasn't taking care of my health. I wasn't taking care of my job. I certainly wasn't taking care of my husbandly role.
My doctor, family doctor for 20 years, left me a message on the weekend I was contemplating an end to it all.
He said that he really wished to keep seeing me but that, after a year of not heeding his reminder calls, he felt that if I did not want to continue in his care, he would understand, and drop me from his ranks.
Somehow, in the little place that our self preservation resides, I took this challenge he had presented to me and made an appointment with him that Monday for a time to see him on Wednesday.
I was nervous; I knew he would take my blood pressure (high), and want to schedule blood work (A1C especially; I had been borderline diabetic the last I had seen him).
Somehow, from some little space in my mind, I was able to relate to him my feelings of despair. I did not know where they were coming from, but I knew that I was burned out, rung out, and looking for a way out.
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