Taking Care of Yourself Takes Care of Others
At 8:15 a.m. on a Monday morning, I found myself at a wellness center rolling up my sleeve and preparing to have blood drawn. For those of you who don’t know me that well, I am the world’s worst patient. I had to go to the doctor back in September due to allergy issues, and when the doctor prescribed a shot, my first response was, “You got a pill for that?”
I don’t do needles. It’s a phobia. I realize I have a problem. I also realize I have a choice, generally, as to whether or not I want to receive said injection, which makes me a pretty poor patient.
Therefore, you might be surprised to hear that on this particular Monday morning, I had voluntarily allowed blood to be drawn from my arm. I wasn’t sick. I wasn’t pregnant. In fact, I had run for over an hour that morning and was, in my own estimation, healthy as I could be.
However, just because I feel and look healthy does not necessarily mean that I am.
Since I turned 18 and could skate by, I have not visited a general practitioner. In other words, I don’t have a regular doctor. My philosophy has basically been, “If I’m feeling healthy, why would I go to the doctor?” That was my 20s.
Now that I’m in my 30s now and have a little girl and aging parents, my medical philosophy has changed. I was on the phone with my mom a few weeks ago and was chiding her for not taking care of herself more. She is caregiver to my father, who has dementia (and Parkinson’s and Alzheimer’s, but that trifecta story is for another time). She has Type II diabetes and recently was placed on insulin. She doesn’t sleep much because she’s constantly on alert to take care of my father, and she’s a fourth-grade teacher, which means she’s pretty much on her feet all day long. She works hard; she’s always worked hard. But I want her to take care of herself, too – it’s a necessity, especially for a caregiver.
As I was telling her this, it occurred to me how much we really are alike.
Not that I’m not getting sleep or taking care of anyone ill, but I do have a 24/7 job in caring for my toddler. My husband is a Type I diabetic. Granted, he takes care of himself admirably (when it comes to adding up how much insulin to take to counteract carbs, my brain shuts down), but I have a responsibility to my family to take care of myself – starting now, when I’m healthy.
“We think we’re being selfless when we don’t care for ourselves, but we’re not,” said Lucy Douglas, owner of New Beginnings Wellness Center and Spa in my home of Ruston. “You have people who depend on you.”
Lucy is a nurse, a wellness coach, a nutritional counselor and has a whole host of impressive degrees and certifications, but here’s what I like most about Lucy: she deals with people one-on-one and she treats the whole person, holistically. She is also a diabetes educator, and my husband started seeing her this past summer. We were impressed with her knowledge, her genuine concern and her passion. She gave us low-carb recipes and advice as well as medical expertise.
So here I am, healthy (I suppose) and feeling good, but my health effects more than me. Whether we’re married or not, whether we have children or not, we all have people who depend on us, who are concerned about our health and wellbeing. My health effects more than me – your health effects more than you.
As I write this, my blood work has yet to come back (and I just went and had it yesterday). I’m interested to see any deficiencies I have and what my overall health looks like. I have a host of genetics working against me (add heart attacks, strokes and cancer to my family line), but I’m interested to see what I’m fighting against. After all, unless you know what the problem is, you can’t combat it. And who knows? I may be just as healthy and normal as can be.
But either way, I’ll be on my way to taking care of myself – which is how I take care of the ones I love.