I get a gold star. My weight is down a couple more pounds (which I can see in my face and body and clothes) and my blood sugar is where it should be. She approves of my attittude. Next appointment? Next month.
Getting there was a bit of an adventure because I had to take a car service. He got to us in plenty of time, but there was a car stalled or stopped in the middle of a sidestreet and there was a whole line of cars that had to turn around or back up, and we were one of them. I still got there bang on time.
On the way back to the subway, a lady in full hijab (Islamic modesty) garb - scarf showing only face, long coat - told me that my skirt had ridden up in back. It's a soft, knit skirt and I was wearing a heavy bag, and a waistpack and these things happen. I thanked her and adjusted it. And she said, "We have to stick together."
I'm wearing a green headscarf over a black headscarf, and while they only covered my hair, I think she thought I was also Muslim. Outside the Orthodox communities, after all, only Muslim women commonly wear scarves. I thank her again and nodded. I admit that I had to hold back a smile when I realized it, but it didn't seem the right time to say, "Oh, but I'm Jewish." Also, it could have been a universal sisterhood thing.
I see this guy every six months for my contact dermatitis, but he's also treating me for rosecea and the occasional bleeding or itchy mole. And tree pollen simply because I have an overactive immune system, and the meds need to deal with that *and* my hives. So, I'm taking Zyrtec, the sanity drug, every day instead of every other day. He also gave me a different rosecea gel and a handful of samples. He also noticed the weight loss, and I told him my new meds so he knows about them. And he thinks I'm doing well, too. ("You'll be thirty pounds lighter next time I see you!)
To get to this doctor, I need to take a subway and a cross-town bus. My normal procedure is to call before I leave and find out how behind he is. Normally, it's an hour or more, and I can chose to leave accordingly. Today, shock of shocks, he was on schedule. And I'd called late. So I ran out the door, bought a burger and soda to go and waited for the train. And waited and waited - I ate the burger while waiting (I'd washed and said motzi in the takeout place.) Meanwhile, a bunch of high school girls found another sitting with her boyfriend, and they began to *sing* - they were members of a church choir and wanted to prove that one of them was off. And then they just began talking.
And they didn't stop talking until we reached 34th St - proms and boys and the fact that the dating couple were going with other people to the prom, to the shock of one of the other girls. It was distracting, I suppose, but they were loud, so I figured I could eavesdrop.
I got there about 20 minutes late - and there were only two patients ahead of me. I believe this was one of the shortest waits ever. Yay!