I called my doctor last Monday morning and got his answering machine. Most people who don’t have urgent care near them and aren’t sick enough for the emergency room wait with scrapes and sniffles and coughs over the weekend to see their primary care doctor on Monday. So I wasn’t surprised I had to leave a message. My case wasn’t urgent to me. I just wanted to make an appointment to talk to my doctor about some pain in the back of my head, an eye twitch that had been going on for a week and numbness in the right side of my face. So I was shocked when, a few hours later, I got a call from the nurse, telling me she’d talked to the doctor about my message, and he wanted me to go to the emergency room. Right then. I was at work, so I told her I’d go afterwards, but she insisted. I had to drop everything and go at that moment. I didn’t – I finished a meeting I was walking in to when she called – but I went afterwards and got every possible test modern science has developed. Apparently my doctor, and the ER, were concerned I was or was about to have stroke. After nine hours of tests, the concluded there was no imminent danger, and I was sent home. Two days later, at a follow up at my doctor’s office, he had the results of my blood tests. I’m pre-diabetic, causing the numbness. And the eye twitching? Apparently I’ve got a bit of stress. The pain in the back of my head? Migraine. “You’ve got to take care of yourself,” he admonished me.  

Easier said than done. Yes – I eat a lot of crap, don’t get enough sleep, don’t get enough exercise, work full time, and deal with doctors and insurance companies and bureaucrats a lot. And I’m married to a great guy. I’d have keeled over dead a long time ago if I also had to do the laundry, clean the house, pay the bills, do household and auto maintenance, shuttle kids from here to there, and cook every night. I called my mom and she suggested I start meditating. Just focus on my breathing for twenty quiet minutes a day. If I could find twenty minutes I’d do one of the things I stopped doing because I didn’t have the time. How do these people who don’t have my life seriously expect me to take time to relax and take care of myself? All the suggestions started to anger me. As if I’m too lazy or stupid to do it. People, if I had the time for bubble baths and not eating at my desk, I’d do it!

When I finally calmed down I realized they have my best interests at heart. There is possibly a way I can find ten minutes to myself each day. I wouldn’t stress out looking for the ten minutes, I’d just let them find me. Two days later, I found them. I routinely wake up fifteen minutes before my alarm goes off at six every morning. I don’t have to get out of bed until six. I’m lying there in the dark, husband snoring away. I decided that time will be for me and what I find relaxing – reading tweets, entertainment news, and hanging out with one of my dogs, Sydney. We lie in the bed, me on my back, her on my chest, smartphone in hand. I page through useless Hollywood gossip and humorous tidbits from my friends, and by the time the alarm goes off at six, I’m ready to hit the shower. It’s not meditation, but it’s time for me to fritter away as I like. And so far, I’m really enjoying it.