The Long, Slow Fast

Oh, Coffee–why must you be such a cruel master?

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…so I found a doctor in Sechelt.  (Anyone familiar with the limping Canadian Health Care system will appreciate the magnitude of this coup.)

Unfortunately, the new doc is both thorough and conscientious.

Since I’m a new patient, he ordered a blood test to get a baseline on my “levels.”

Ugh–I don’t like blood tests.  I really don’t like them.

Big deal, you say.  What’s a little prick?

I have to fast for EIGHT to TEN hours prior.  (I read the fine print–necessities of life like coffee are included in the draconian fast.)

The lab suggests coming in first thing in the morning as most people fast while they’re asleep.

Sounds reasonable?  For someone with normal sleeping habits, yes.  For me, not so much.

The blood letting lab doesn’t open until 7:30, but I’m awake by 4:30 every darn day.  No matter how deeply I hunker under the covers or how tightly I cuddle my Chihuahua, once I’m awake, it’s game over.

Only hot, hot coffee helps at that point–magically transforming me from a grumpy mess to a somewhat pleasant human.

I can’t wait over three hours for my first coffee of the day so a morning blood test is out.

After putting off the prick for six weeks, I finally made an appointment for 2:30 in the afternoon.  This allowed me to guzzle back a couple of mugs of coffee before the eight hour fasting window opened.

And now I’m mooching around thinking of huevos rancheros, cheese pizza, avocado toast…

I’m not even really hungry yet, but all I can think about is food because I know I can’t have any.

I’m sure there’s a lesson in there about yearning for things that are out of reach.

I’ll explore it once I’ve eaten some natchos, or lentil soup or a gooey date square…