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.