-This Slate, Wiped Clean-

Barring my allergy-induced visits to the emergency room a year ago, I’ve made it a point to avoid the doctor. No, I didn’t inherit my father and grandfather’s irrational fear of doctors and hospitals; although I don’t look forward to visiting the doctor’s office, I’m not foolish enough to just wait for the pain to go away by itself, which is something my dad and grampa continue to do. I’m pierced and tattooed, so my avoidance isn’t due to a fear of blood or needles. I’m also not resistant to taking drugs when necessary (or, sometimes, even when it’s unnecessary), so it doesn’t stem from a mistrust of prescribed medication, either.

The truth of the matter is, I don’t like answering questions or being lectured about the kind of food I eat, how much I smoke, etc. Add to that, I’m a complete prude. The thought of somebody other than my significant other touching my junk is enough to put me in a sour mood for the rest of the day.

The false and impersonal sense of comfort offered by a doctor’s office

I could no longer put it off, however, as my job requires me to have a physical at least every four years. (My job pays for an annual physical, but the arrogance of youth made me think that I was above such concerns for now.) So I reluctantly trudged off to visit Dr. Chen earlier this week.

Dr. Chen is a pleasant enough lady; she’s not given to pushy lecturing, instead opting for gentle guidance. I’m sure that, in all her years in the medical field, she knows full well that listing the eventual side effects of any and all bad habits is not enough to deter a patient. As she fondled my boobies for lumps, which is the most action I’ve gotten all year, by the way (haha!), she asked me to relay what I know of my parents’ medical history.

Maternal history: grandma died of leukemia; mother is epileptic (although she stopped exhibiting symptoms by the time she was in her twenties) and currently on medication for high blood pressure; grandfather is diabetic.

Paternal history: grandpa is healthy as a horse; father is currently receiving dialysis treatments on a thrice-weekly basis and will eventually need a kidney transplant; grandma is diabetic and is on medication for high blood pressure.

Dr. Chen’s reaction: “You come from really bad genes.”

Not at all reassuring, right? So I suppose I should have been prepared for the results of my physical. There is, of course, this thing called hubris, so I still wasn’t worried, despite my kind doctor’s sentiments. I mean, I’m young and relatively fit; what could that report possibly say?

Well, I’m not even thirty years old and I have to start taking Lipitor because of high cholesterol levels. I was completely surprised. I have abused my body and my mind in many fun and inventive ways, but I hadn’t thought of the state of my body’s cholesterol levels. I’m not fat, I’ve been a vegetarian since I was 16, and I walk at least one mile on the treadmill five times a week; I never drink alcohol, take my vitamins on a daily basis, eat the appropriate amount of fiber, and cook my own meals to avoid ingesting overly processed, allegedly carcinogenic packaged food. How the fuck could my cholesterol be too high?

As I peppered Dr. Chen with questions, trying to find an explanation for this unexpected (to me, at least) turn of events, she told me that exercising and strict monitoring of my fat intake was the right thing to do. And, yes, she said, it’s fairly uncommon for someone as young as me to be prescribed medication for high cholesterol. Unfortunately, my bad genes are to blame for this; given my family’s medical history, I just need to do more to take care of myself than other people normally would.

So, starting next week, my diet and exercise routine will be completely overhauled. My limited diet will become even more restricted; I’m supposed to cut out eggs, processed food, and dairy, which sounds like a sure-fire way to both lower my cholesterol and ensure that I waste away. Dr. Chen suggested that I start eating meat again - lean chicken and fish, healthy cuts (whatever that means) - but just the thought of putting meat in my mouth makes me want to vomit. I told her as much, so she didn’t push the issue, only saying that it’s an option that must be considered eventually.

Additionally, instead of walking one mile, I have to start running and doing light weight training. Let it be known that I hate working out; I have to force myself to get on the treadmill as it is, so the thought of running and lifting weights fills me with dread.

My one vice is smoking cigarettes (it’s a shitty vice, but it is, in my defense, just one vice) and, although I have cut down significantly, I still chain-smoke when I’m stressed out. As Dr. Chen and I spoke on the phone, I lit one up, which Dr. Chen immediately picked up on.

“Are you smoking?” she asked me. There was no point denying it, so I admitted that, yes, I was smoking. “You need to schedule an appointment; you need an x-ray so we can look at your lungs.”

Well, that’s an excellent way to start my weekend.

I’ve scheduled an appointment in two weeks. I’m hoping the x-rays won’t reveal anything too terrible.