Physician: Heal thyself

I went to the doctor this morning to have my ongoing prescriptions renewed having reached the end of my 'repeats'.

I was expecting the visit to be straightforward as I have been feeling fine and am unaware of any new health issues. He checked my weight, blood pressure and body fat - checks he routinely carries out on most of my visits and for good measure (not to mention a higher fee) he also got me to undergo an ECG as it had been a while since I'd been tested. I don't like the ECG test. Those clamp things give me a creepy feeling as though cockroaches are crawling over my body. I'm sure my blood pressure soars when I have the ECG test.

Thankfully all these tests were satisfactory but dear Doctor was in a mood to be difficult and he gave me a hard time about improving my upper body. No doubt he was speaking with an eye to my waistline which I know is a couple of inches above the ideal. He once again banished me from eating everything that I find remotely tasty and this time suggested I take up yoga. Previous 'prescriptions' have included running around Centennial Park, swimming at Boy Charlton Pool and (best of all) daily masturbation to ward off prostate cancer.

I wouldn't mind these exhortations so much if it wasn't that dear Doctor is no svelte figure himself. He is at least twenty years younger than I and possibly as many kilos heavier despite being centimetres shorter. He always appears red faced to me.

But I know he means well so I suppose I should try, yet again, to work on trimming my weight. After the appointment I went across to Centennial Park and walked one circuit as a show, to myself, of good intentions. Unfortunately I did undo the value of that activity by stopping at the cake shop immediately after for an apple slice but, hey, I have to start somewhere.