Chapter Six #2
“Sometimes more, sometimes less. Depends on the week.” The amount changes if I run out of cigarettes too quickly, but I’m not giving that up to the vice police.
“Ummm. Okay. Okay. Is there any pain when you and your husband are having sex?” she asks with routine nonchalance.
I think to myself, What are the fewest number of words I can use to impart that I’m married to another woman’s boyfriend?
“No sex.” I inhale as Dr. Kwan holds the stethoscope more firmly on my back like she can’t detect if I have a beating heart. “And no husband anymore either,” I blow out as I release the breath I’m holding. Dr. Kwan doesn’t flinch at my confession, which I appreciate on our first date.
“What about exercise? What do you like to do to get your body moving?” she solicits, reaching for my folder, which had been set on the counter.
I think about that query for a minute. I was raised by a mother who donned a skirt, heels, and pearls before I was up and in my school uniform.
When we would pass ladies on the street wearing sneakers with their suits on their commute to work, she would tightly grab my hand and pull me toward her, like the career women’s poor footwear choices might rub off on me.
Helen Steele believed in self-restraint in the name of beauty, not exertion.
Consequently, I grew up avoiding sports, but I could wax poetic about Greek and Roman mythology in addition to waxing my legs. And I knew how to shotgun a Tab soda.
“I, uh, I like to hike with my sons,” I lie.
When Andrew and John were little, Thomas would occasionally get a twig in his shorts that we needed to embrace the California lifestyle, so we would take the boys into the Sierra Nevada mountains to commune among the sugar pines.
That pursuit ended as soon as John and Andrew were old enough that we could pay thousands of dollars to send them away to hike trails and swim in lakes at sleepaway camp in upstate New York like the good East Coast boys they should be.
When Dr. Kwan finishes massaging my breasts and probing my cervix, she tells me to go ahead and get dressed while she steps out to find Patty and those pamphlets. I dress quickly and hop back on the exam table at the precise moment Dr. Kwan pops in again after giving the door an efficient knock.
When she tucks her dark silky hair behind her ears, I notice Dr. Kwan has flawless diamond drop earrings hanging from tiny lobes.
She isn’t even old enough for her pierced holes to be stretched out from years of wearing dangling jewels.
As I scan her serious face while she finishes tapping out a last note, I see there is not one worry line or wrinkle.
My best guess is, this is a result of youth and being born into the sunscreen generation.
I bet she can keep her pants on from morning to bedtime, not yet saddled with the bloating that inevitably comes from eating breakfast and lunch.
I doubt she has ever swapped out structured pants for loose drawstring ones and called it dinner attire.
“Callie, it’s time to make some changes,” Dr. Kwan announces, standing tall in her heels as I sit slouched on the exam table.
No shit. If it doesn’t say in my file that Thomas left me, then it certainly doesn’t say that I have been aggressively trying to sell my house and get the hell out of Sacramento.
Or maybe it does. It was no secret between Dr. Newman and me that I lived my life only one full packing day away from being able to hightail it east, but I doubt he ever noted geographic dissatisfaction as a medical concern in my records.
“Oh, trust me, I know it’s time for a change.
My house has been on the market for over nine months.
I’m trying to sell it and move back to New York to be closer to my college friends.
Any chance you’re looking to buy? It’s a great home to raise kids in.
” I realize I don’t even know if she’s partnered up or wants kids, and it’s rude as hell of me to assume, but I don’t care.
I will jump at any chance to offload my Colonial.
“Callie, have you ever heard the saying ‘Wherever you go, there you are’?”
“Yeeaah,” I draw out in response to my doctor-turned-Yoda.
“Location is not your issue, Callie. At least, not as far as my professional medical opinion is concerned. Your health is,” Dr. Kwan informs me matter-of-factly, not at all invoking the gentle bedside manner and comforting charm of Dr. Newman.
“Whether you are here or somewhere else, the truth is, you’re five foot five and one hundred seventy-five pounds.
For a woman your age, carrying around excess weight can be terribly disruptive to sleep patterns.
Disrupted sleep patterns can affect your mood and lead to poor food choices.
And then, of course, the heavier we are, the less we want to move. ”
The heavier we are? Looking at my tits-on-sticks of a doctor, I’m not sure there is any we in this monologue. Dr. Kwan definitely missed the point of all the pop-music, body-positive lyrics while she was head down in medical school textbooks.
“In addition to gaining thirty-five pounds since your last visit, which is placing undue stress and strain on your joints”—and shrinking three-quarters of an inch, though Dr. Kwan chooses not to nitpick that recent shortcoming—“for a woman your age, your blood pressure is high and your heart rate is elevated. And though we still need to complete a series of blood tests, it’s probable that you are prediabetic and that your LDL cholesterol is high as well.
” Dr. Kwan finally pauses, allowing her advisement of a woman your age to settle in.
“I’m also concerned about your overall bone health, since women who are overweight and don’t exercise regularly in their fifties often have lower bone density in relation to their body weight and are, therefore, at a higher risk of fractures.
” I swear Dr. Kwan pronounces fifties like my age is a fatal diagnosis.
“Along with your blood tests, I am ordering a DEXA scan to screen for osteoporosis. All these unhealthy risk factors make you a prime candidate for heart disease and a possible heart attack, which is the number one killer of women. I can’t reiterate enough, Callie, that it’s time to make some serious lifestyle changes, or your next thirty years are not going to be quality ones.
Adjust your diet to include more plants, protein, and whole grains.
Don’t even touch the processed stuff. Cut back on alcohol—it actually exacerbates hot flashes.
And most important, move more. These are all things that will help with your sleep, brain function, muscle retention, and mood. ”
How can Dr. Kwan accurately assess my temperament? I have been nothing but grudgingly delightful since entering this current mean-girl scene.
“Have you thought about starting a running program? You know, taking on a new challenge? Sacramento is full of great parks and running paths.”
I let that last question linger in the air between us, my face slack, hoping my lack of answer and dead-eyed expression make it crystal clear I have never thought about running. Not once.
Clearing her throat to break the pause between us, Dr. Kwan backpedals and revises her delivery.
“Callie, our goal here isn’t short-term vanity, it’s improved overall health and longevity.
” She did not just say the L-word to me.
“It’s time to restart taking care of yourself, and that begins with exercise. ”
“Excuse me, Dr. Kwan, but did you just call me fat?”