As you likely know, I've been without health insurance for a couple years. The vagaries of work in the acting world left me without the required number of work-weeks to qualify, so I've been sorta doing what I could on my own to remain fit and healthy, and not do anything that might necessitate a trip to the emergency room. You know, like step in front of a bus.
With my recent employment at The Velvet Prison, the gods have again smiled upon me and bestowed the bounty of Health Coverage with Reasonably Low Deductible and Co-Pays on my sorry ass.
That being the case, I recently made an appointment to meet my new physician, and have myself given a looky-loo.
Since coming to New York, I'd been a patient at the Callen-Lorde Community Health Center, where I had a crush on my doctor, or, as I like to call him, "Hot Doc." The problem was, I'm not the type who gets sick a lot, so I mainly used the clinic for my annual checkups and the like, and I felt as though I were a bit of an interloper, since its mission seemed, to me, to be to serve people who didn't have insurance and needed a more critical kind of care than I did. I felt guilty complaining about my allergies when I was sitting next to AIDS patients in the waiting room.
So, courtesy of a co-worker who's also gay, I got hooked up with a new doctor who's also, er, Family, and I got myself checked out last week.
Long story short, I'm in better shape than I thought I was! Before the health insurance ran out a couple years ago, Hot Doc had told me that he was concerned about how high my triglycerides were. Since high triglycerides with no other symptoms can be a symptom of undiagnosed diabetes, I've been a little freaked out for quite a while.
The latest blood tests say that all is well (hateful though it may be, I'm sure the gym and my efforts at eating better are part of it) and I'm not (at least yet) going the way of my dad. No diabetes for me, my friends.
To which I have nothing funny or clever or ironic to say but "Whew."
With my recent employment at The Velvet Prison, the gods have again smiled upon me and bestowed the bounty of Health Coverage with Reasonably Low Deductible and Co-Pays on my sorry ass.
That being the case, I recently made an appointment to meet my new physician, and have myself given a looky-loo.
Since coming to New York, I'd been a patient at the Callen-Lorde Community Health Center, where I had a crush on my doctor, or, as I like to call him, "Hot Doc." The problem was, I'm not the type who gets sick a lot, so I mainly used the clinic for my annual checkups and the like, and I felt as though I were a bit of an interloper, since its mission seemed, to me, to be to serve people who didn't have insurance and needed a more critical kind of care than I did. I felt guilty complaining about my allergies when I was sitting next to AIDS patients in the waiting room.
So, courtesy of a co-worker who's also gay, I got hooked up with a new doctor who's also, er, Family, and I got myself checked out last week.
Long story short, I'm in better shape than I thought I was! Before the health insurance ran out a couple years ago, Hot Doc had told me that he was concerned about how high my triglycerides were. Since high triglycerides with no other symptoms can be a symptom of undiagnosed diabetes, I've been a little freaked out for quite a while.
The latest blood tests say that all is well (hateful though it may be, I'm sure the gym and my efforts at eating better are part of it) and I'm not (at least yet) going the way of my dad. No diabetes for me, my friends.
To which I have nothing funny or clever or ironic to say but "Whew."
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