This morning, it took me an hour to chip the ice and snow off of my car so I could see for my annual check-up with my primary care physician.

Ever since I was diagnosed with two chronic diseases – diabetes 2 and heart disease – I’ve gone to see three specialists every three to six months. One is a cardiologist, one is a diabetes trained nurse-practitioner, the third is my primary care physician, in my case a nurse-practitioner.

It’s taken my several years, but all three of these health care workers are women, and respect and appreciate each one of them. They all talk to me, they all know me. I trust them completely, listen to them, and they have taken good care of me.

And more importantly, helped me to take good care of myself.

I learned today that I am in good shape.

Exams are different from what they used to be, of course. The doctors rarely touch me, they look at the test data, talk to me (the good ones) and assign more tests in a few months.

Between these doctors, they have saved my life twice, once by forcing me to deal with the reality of diabetes, the other by instantly diagnosing a heart attack I insisted was asthma. I do not always follow their protocols, but I take my health seriously and work hard to maintain it.

Today, I went to see Janet Oliver, my primary care manager She had just received a new blood work-up from my new cardiologist,  Dr. Nicoleta Daraban. Two weeks ago, Dr. Daraban said my blood work was “beautiful.” She promised me a sticker next time.

Today, Janet said every single test measurement was excellent: my blood pressure, cholesterol level, A1 C, blood sugar, heart beat, and everything else they tested. Despite having these two conditions, I was, she said in excellent health, the tests were terrific, she had nothing to talk to me about.

Keep on doing just what you are doing, she said, and I’ll see you in three months. Before I left, we talked about the Salem Witch Trials and i gave her a book I first bought for Maria about the witch trials. She wants to visit Salem.  “Is it scary?,” Janet asked me. Not at all, I answered.

“This is great,” she said, “you look great, your tests are great. I have nothing to pester you about. Good job!”

We talked about my medications and their side effects, but she strongly encouraged me to do just what I am doing. “If it ain’t broke,” she said.

This was gratifying, and I was proud of myself. This is what I want to hear from my doctors, and I’ve now heard it from all three.

I do work  hard, my blood sugar averages out to 98 each day, which is just about normal. The other numbers are all good. I’ve never once used the nitro tablets they give me for my angina in case of an emergency. I told Janet I sit on my ass writing much of the day, I am quite active, I love to walk, but I’m not into exercising formally.

I love to walk, especially in the woods.

Great, she said, walking is about the best exercise that there is, she said. In the middle of the night, I sometimes hear voices telling me I will die soon – no life insurance company would have me now. We had a good talk about witches and how they often were the only healers around. That is still true, I said, in remote rural areas. She agreed.

Janet and I talked about my idea of health. I said a spiritual component was essential to me. I said I believe that was as  important to my health as my blood work. So is my photography, I said. She had no quarrel with that, she said I looked vital and engaged, the most important sign of health. We are totally in sync.

Now I can talk back to the voices and tell them to shove it, at least for a while.