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I just realized: I’m one of those people I read about. People who willfully lead unhealthy lifestyles. The ones who could (and by all accounts really should) control and be on top of things like taking their meds, exercising regularly, eating properly, drinking 8 glasses of water daily and managing stress. Those people. Us people. Yes, I am one of them.
We, who well know the gloomy statistics and have been warned of the consequences of not taking responsibility for our health. We who know we should become informed about and then take action, make changes and make responsible choices, but won't.
Today, in the doctor’s office, she once again tut-tutted that nothing was going to change unless I was willing to make the change. And I’m simply not. I don’t think I ever will be ready or willing. I do pay, it’s true, but still feel, on balance, it’s it’s how I want to live. Who knows what the future holds. Who knows what long-term repercussions from this bad behaviour.
The thing, is I know that without my animals I would be bereft. My cats. Three of them. They follow me ‘round the houses, evenly distribute their weight between stomach and chest when I’m spread out on the sofa, reading or watching tv. Comfort me when words are not what's needed, observe - without sarcastic comments - when I dance or sing out of tune. However: I know that were it not for my cats I would neither have to take meds nor puffer year round, but rather just in allergy season. I wouldn’t have the eye drops beside my bed when, with the enveloping chill, we seek warmth and comfort together, the cats and I. I don’t know what havoc my asthma and allergy meds may bring long term, and yet I take my chances and enjoy every second of their furry purring meowing trilling.
How different am I from those who get tut tutted, finger-wagged, eye rolled, sighed and guilted about bringing on their own health problems, and being ‘should’-ed about change.
How easy is it to give up those things that give us pleasure: forbidden food, alcohol, smokes.
The doc that most recently chided me could herself lose some weight, as could my GP who has admitted that she’s an on and off smoker. How much better are these healthcare professionals at making responsible lifestyle choices, and yet make pronouncements?
While I may not face the demons of addiction, or the logistical and financial realities of a remote location or poverty a factor in my fresh fruit intake, my desire to keep my cats ( and keep ‘em close) may well have further reaching economic implications. I feel it already: the cost and effects of my animal-centered life mean, much like advanced COPD patient on oxygen, my travel is restricted by health needs. In this case, the cats’ health. If I’m hospitalized with an asthma attack brought on by burying my face (however briefly) in cat fur, then I’m costing the system as well.
Yesterday, I read about them. Today I see myself as one of them. I will be more thoughtful and less judgmental when meeting people who, tho they be overweight, smoking and drinking, are just like me.
