That shrinking feeling..
Words from a Bird....Day 9
After receiving an invitation for a health check on his 50th birthday, the husband, at the ripe old age of 52 and three quarters finally plucked the courage up to make the appointment with the doctor. I think that he had got fed up of daughter number 1 going on about how unhealthy he was. This comment was usually triggered by a jacket potato with butter, mayonnaise, cheese, then more butter, so I could see where she was coming from.
So, he had called the doctor to make the appointment, and was given the first available one....4th January 2016...the first day back to work after two weeks of eating anything that stopped moving long enough. This was going to be interesting.
He seemed quite pleased when we talked about it later in the day. 'Nothing wrong with me. She was very happy, Everything seems fine'. It then transpires that the only results back on the day were the blood pressure (a little high), the weight (a little over), the waist measurement (a little long), and the activity levels (a little low). So, all in all, I think that his 'everything seems fine' was maybe being a little optimistic.
Today, the results came back and yes, other than some very small tweaks, there's nothing to worry about, which is lovely news. Was he happy? Was he shouting about his wonderful body and health? Did he call daughter number 1 to gloat? No. He has read one line at the bottom of the report which has caused him real distress. Apparently he has shrunk two inches. We are talking two vertical inches here rather than anything more sinister, so please don't be alarmed. Now for me, this is not an issue, but for the husband? Well, you would have thought that the world had ended.
I did try and appease his anguish by comparing him to a Play-Doh sausage. The thinner you roll it and the longer it gets. Obviously, his particular sausage has been patted at both ends, reducing the length and increasing the width. I rest my case....
As for him, well he keeps muttering about stacked heels and shoe lifts.....
After receiving an invitation for a health check on his 50th birthday, the husband, at the ripe old age of 52 and three quarters finally plucked the courage up to make the appointment with the doctor. I think that he had got fed up of daughter number 1 going on about how unhealthy he was. This comment was usually triggered by a jacket potato with butter, mayonnaise, cheese, then more butter, so I could see where she was coming from.
So, he had called the doctor to make the appointment, and was given the first available one....4th January 2016...the first day back to work after two weeks of eating anything that stopped moving long enough. This was going to be interesting.
He seemed quite pleased when we talked about it later in the day. 'Nothing wrong with me. She was very happy, Everything seems fine'. It then transpires that the only results back on the day were the blood pressure (a little high), the weight (a little over), the waist measurement (a little long), and the activity levels (a little low). So, all in all, I think that his 'everything seems fine' was maybe being a little optimistic.
Today, the results came back and yes, other than some very small tweaks, there's nothing to worry about, which is lovely news. Was he happy? Was he shouting about his wonderful body and health? Did he call daughter number 1 to gloat? No. He has read one line at the bottom of the report which has caused him real distress. Apparently he has shrunk two inches. We are talking two vertical inches here rather than anything more sinister, so please don't be alarmed. Now for me, this is not an issue, but for the husband? Well, you would have thought that the world had ended.
I did try and appease his anguish by comparing him to a Play-Doh sausage. The thinner you roll it and the longer it gets. Obviously, his particular sausage has been patted at both ends, reducing the length and increasing the width. I rest my case....
As for him, well he keeps muttering about stacked heels and shoe lifts.....
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