Expectations Management
So I went in to the doctor's on Wednesday for a progress check on the whole not-getting-the-diabetes project. I'd managed to drop six pounds since the last time I went in in March, but man, I spent the ENTIRE month of April eating on the road, and the whole weight-loss thing stalled out bigtime. Anyway, it was quick and painless, one of those "we'll call you within two weeks if anything comes back abnormal" deals.
Then my phone lit up today.
My gut dropped into my shoes; I answered with a kind of hollow cheerfulness. Shit shit shit, I finally blew it; I ate too many goddamn donuts and now I'm gonna have to practice sticking needles in an orange, god DAMMIT. "Hello?"
"Hi, yes, this is Anna from Dr. Elmore's office? She just wanted me to let you know that your labs look great, and to keep up the good work."
"...really?"
And for the rest of the day, I was delighted beyond all reason. Back in the diet saddle, and with renewed purpose!
--We're proud of you, boy.
--Thanks, Dad. But part of this D-minus belongs to God.
Then my phone lit up today.
My gut dropped into my shoes; I answered with a kind of hollow cheerfulness. Shit shit shit, I finally blew it; I ate too many goddamn donuts and now I'm gonna have to practice sticking needles in an orange, god DAMMIT. "Hello?"
"Hi, yes, this is Anna from Dr. Elmore's office? She just wanted me to let you know that your labs look great, and to keep up the good work."
"...really?"
And for the rest of the day, I was delighted beyond all reason. Back in the diet saddle, and with renewed purpose!
--We're proud of you, boy.
--Thanks, Dad. But part of this D-minus belongs to God.