Chapter Twenty-Five #2
“Well, you should be pleased with yourself. You have also dropped some weight, and I’m going to guess that your blood panels will show improvement as well.
” I search the room from my paper-covered perch, looking for a basket of stickers or a treasure chest to choose a prize from, like there was when I took the boys to the pediatrician.
I want hard evidence that I am a star patient, or at the very least, an improving one.
“Good morning, Callie,” Dr. Kwan greets me, breezing into the room with an authority I haven’t exuded since running the newsroom at the Daily Princetonian.
“How much?” I blurt, bypassing her salutation.
Dr. Kwan looks at me, confused. Patty taps the iPad with her index finger.
“Twelve pounds.” Dr. Kwan grins at me, drying her hands after a good scrub in the sterile sink.
“That’s it?” I yelp. In six months of rushing to the bathroom hourly to pee from consuming so much water; breathing deeply and intentionally when I’m paused at a stoplight; popping iron, Omega three, probiotics, D3, B12, magnesium and turmeric supplements like Skittles; and getting at least eight hours of sleep because I now go to bed at nine, shaving the weight of one of the smallest dumbbells at the gym is all I have to show for it?
And then there is the running I was medically bullied into.
I want to tell Dr. Kwan she’s the one who made me start running and that I absolutely hate it, but damn it, I can’t.
If Dr. Kwan hadn’t suggested the horrid hobby, I would not have gotten to know Daphne, the woman who holds my mother’s care in her hands, as the full and complete person she is outside of Mercy Community Care.
Then there’s Maureen, the sweetest cheerleader for pushing through life a person ever wanted to punch.
And Chap. While I’m still working out what he’s seeking, considering all the possible options has provided me endless entertainment with Lisa on my couch and Quinn on the phone.
But all this effort and living outside my norm for only twelve pounds? I struggle to find the worth in it.
“It’s not only the pounds, Callie. It’s all the benefits that go along with that.”
“But I keep a gratitude journal now!” I ignore Dr. Kwan’s reasonable statement. “I write in it every day! Do you know how irritating it is to be grateful every day?”
“Well, that is progress, Callie.” Dr. Kwan winks at me, not taking the bait to join me in calling all the changes I’ve made by their real name: bullshit. “I hope you write that you’re finally putting your health and happiness first.”
See? Jesus. I haven’t even been doing the list right!
“And it’s awesome that you’ve picked up running. I bet that is bringing some newfound energy into your life.”
I narrow my eyes skeptically at Dr. Kwan.
How does she know I wasn’t living my best life up until she ruined my soft existence, and worse, added sweating?
“Good guess,” I flatly respond, wondering how she knows I run.
Is she driving around spying on me? I thought that was something only concierge doctors do.
“Your worn sneakers gave it away,” Dr. Kwan answers, pointing at the plastic seat, surprising me by responding to the question I was thinking.
I look over at the chair pushed against the wall where my shoes sit atop my bunched-up running tights and long-sleeve T-shirt. I have a few errands before meeting Maureen and Daphne for a run.
“What more can I do? And please don’t say put protein powder in my smoothies. I already do that,” I whine to Dr. Kwan. I’m fixated on the fact that I have only lost twelve pounds and I am seeing Thomas for the first time since he left last spring in exactly a month.
Dr. Kwan takes my hands in hers. Her grip feels full of support and like we are in this thing called my life together.
“Callie, you do not need to do more; you just need to continue doing more of the same, because consistency is key when playing the healthy-habits long game. Look at yourself.” Dr. Kwan drops my hands, reaches to the counter to pick up a handheld mirror, and holds it up to my face.
“When you came in here six months ago, you looked exhausted. Worn. And I’m sorry, but a little lifeless.” If this is a pep talk, she sucks at it. “Now look at yourself.”
I do as she says. I look at myself. Which, if I’m being honest, I rarely do at home. I use mirrors as punishment and live in gut-coiling judgment of what I see staring back at me. I’m shaking a little.
“Your skin is full and glowing.” Her use of the word full feels a bit backhanded, but there is a natural flush to my cheeks and I don’t have a stitch of makeup on.
“You’re sitting up straight, holding your head high.
Last time I saw you, you were in here folded in on yourself, kinda making your presence smaller, trying to disappear rather than take up space. Sound familiar?”
Maybe Dr. Kwan is a little more observant than I had given her credit for. I add to her notice of my posture: “I think I actually have some abs now to hold myself up.” Then I cringe at my lame attempt to compliment myself.
“Better ab strength and maybe a better outlook.” Dr. Kwan challenges me to admit that my improvements are not only physical but also mental.
“It’s going to be fun to see the changes in your blood work.”
Dr. Kwan and I have different definitions of fun, but I am curious to see the results too.
“What do you think has been the biggest impact of the effort you have put into yourself? Because I give so many of my patients advice on how to improve their personal wellness, and they toss away all my suggestions by the time they reach their car.”
“Really?” I respond, letting out a breath in feigned disbelief. “It’s not so much what has had the biggest impact but who,” I admit.
“A special someone?” Dr. Kwan digs for intel like we’re friends having coffee and it’s not weird that one of us is wearing a paper dress.
“Actually, special someones.”
My doctor’s eyes go wide.
“New friends I’ve made through my running club,” I divulge.
Dr. Kwan rolls her lips together in a smile, I imagine doing her best not to say, I told you so.