Dear PCP

Hey Dr. Brown,

So…I’m coming to see you bright and early tomorrow morning for my 2020 check up. Good news…between Covid, virtual school and the election, I don’t have any reserve brain cells to conjure irrational worry that I’m dying of some obscure occult malignancy. WIN! So you won’t need to order any CT scans or endoscopies to ease my mind. And I don’t even care about my ferritin this year…I have bigger fish to fry…like remembering deodorant.

But let’s have a quick chat before my visit. As you know, 2020 has been a shit show. So can we just give this check up a mulligan? Call it a ‘social visit?’ I’ll even bring Starbucks. I’ll tell you straight up, I’m at least 5 pounds heavier than last year (that’s a lie), 10 pounds. And I’m pretty sure you can add hypertension to my problem list…because by the time I see you tomorrow, I will have been watching cable news for approximately 72 hours, postulating all possible mathematical equations that add up to 270.

So really, no need to weigh me, take my blood pressure or check any labs. Because I’m pretty sure you would find impaired fasting glucose, sketchy lipids and questionable transaminases. I’ve been eating pie for dinner, drinking my share of fruit products and my only exercise is the tachycardia I maintain while watching TV and doomscrolling social media. That counts, right?

I promise, next year I will get it together and come at you with several random complaints to keep you on your toes. I’ll get back down to my goal weight and my labs will be aspirational. But tomorrow I just need you to take me by the hand, look me in the eye and tell me that I’m doing okay. Even it it’s a lie.

See you soon,

Christi

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