Last Tuesday I had a seasonal check-up with The Good Doctor. He was pleased as Punch: my blood pressure was good and my weight was steady (no gain). We did not have ructions over my borderline A1C. I can keep working via ‘non-Rx means’ to better the glucose. We shared stories who had the patient with the worst ‘no vaccine’ excuse/belief. I had some doozies, only because I have patients with bona fide delusional disorders. These were disqualified as thems with this condition always have conspiracy theories as par for the course. The Good Doctor won with a case of a 40yo man who was refusing the vaccine because he read one (only one) article suggesting the vaccine may not work in immunocompromised folks. [1]

At the appointment he advised me to get three shots: the COVID19 booster shot; the shingles vaccine; the annual flu shot. Like Scrooge being told he was to be haunted by three spirits, I asked could they not all come at once and get it over with. No such luck: I should get them done in a series, a few weeks apart. This weekend I go to the pharmacy to set these up. My pharmacist is a fine fellow, well over four feet; I think he will oblige.

I have another reason to better my figure, something more pressing than my health: my vanity. My traveling companions have voted not to scuttle the November trip to Palm Springs. This gives me approximately eight weeks to work on my covid-physique. Imagining Urs Truly making his ingress at Inndulge looking avoirdupois. There would be talk.[2]

Unfortunately, what lies between P.S. and today is obstacle called October, the month-long party month, in which I am known to make all sorts of yummies all antithesis to slimming. Oh the horror. I suppose I could not make anything and forgo the candy corn, but what fun is that? I could make goodies and vow I won’t eat them or not much of them. [3] I will probably compromise by bringing all baked goods to work and put’em down for the goats to get’em.

Speaking of autumn-eats, yesterday was the first official day of autumn. To celebrate, I thought to make coffee for the incoming staff, using a homemade pumpkin spice blend from a recipe I found on the internet. I sprinkled some into the grounds and brewed a pot. Oh the pain. Do not try this at home. I dumped out the foul stuff and made a regular pot and no one was the wiser.

Mr. Getty got some before I threw it out

[1] Picking out one negative report as ‘the truth’ while dismissing dozens of positive ones is a classic example of something called ‘selection bias”. Someday I ought to write an entry on the various bias that afflict our thinking and judgment.

[2] Not really. My anxious vanity can be assured by something in psychology called The Spotlight Effect. This is the phenomena people greatly over-estimate how much people notice them. One walks into a room full of people and thinks ‘everyone is looking at me’ when in fact no one is looking at you other than a quick glance to see if you are familiar to them. One is more Mr. Cellophane than one realizes.

[3] Fat chance of that.