Perversity of Human Nature

In to see my internist today, for a routine consult for my NIDDM.* I’ve known him since he was the merest slip of a physician, which of course implies a sort of familiarity, and being an Emerg RN means it takes more than an internist to intimidate me.  I do love going into his office,  if only to tutoyer the doc with the receptionist: she’s always horrified I call him by his first name.

“I’m here to see Joey for a ten-fifteen appointment.”

Doctor Goodman** is a bit behind today.”

“Joey’s busy, is he?”

Doctor Goodman will see you as soon as possible.”

The test results were great — you’d never know I was diabetic, except for the metformin and the Januvia:  I’ve even lost 12 kg since my last appointment three months ago.  So I came home, and all morning I had this terrible demanding craving for something greasy with a high glycemic index, like a loaded pizza, or mac and cheese, or really fresh warm bread with a load of melted butter.  Or something.  Perogies with cheese and bacon and sour cream.  Screw the cottage cheese and raw vegetables!  Give me poutine, and pass the Plavix!


*Non-insulin dependent diabetes mellitus.

**Not his real name, of course.


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