Fresh Living

Most of us grew up thinking of the family doctor as a person you can count on to know you (and your body), be available to you, and to help you navigate the health care system. But in a world where only 2 percent of medical school graduates choose to go into internal medicine, the “primary” in “primary care physician” can feel almost laughable.

Here in Massachusetts, a big part of the problem is that primary care doctors are in too-high demand. Since the state passed a law in 2006 mandating health insurance for everyone, doctors’ patient lists are over-full.  A person in this state waits an average of 36 days to get an appointment with his or her primary care doctor. This leaves many wondering, what good is it to be assured of getting insurance if you’re still waiting around for a month to see your doctor?

I only see my primary care doctor, who I like a lot, once a year at my physical–which I book a solid 3 months in advance.

Continue Reading This Post »

Is my chi flowing? Are my meridians open? Are my chakras balanced? Are my joints fluid? Is my weight normal? Is my hair lustrous? Are my gums pink? Do I feel well?

So, am I healthy? Are you? Let’s find out together.

Twas brillig, and the slithy toves
  Did gyre and gimble in the wabe:
All mimsy were the borogoves,
  And the mome raths outgrabe.

“Beware the Jabberwock, my son!
  The jaws that bite, the claws that catch!
Beware the Jubjub bird, and shun
  The frumious Bandersnatch!”

He took his vorpal sword in hand:
  Long time the manxome foe he sought –
So rested he by the Tumtum tree,
  And stood awhile in thought.

And, as in uffish thought he stood,
  The Jabberwock, with eyes of flame,
Came whiffling through the tulgey wood,
  And burbled as it came!

One, two! One, two! And through and through
  The vorpal blade went snicker-snack!
He left it dead, and with its head
  He went galumphing back.

“And, has thou slain the Jabberwock?
  Come to my arms, my beamish boy!
O frabjous day! Callooh! Callay!’
  He chortled in his joy.

`Twas brillig, and the slithy toves
  Did gyre and gimble in the wabe;
All mimsy were the borogoves,
  And the mome raths outgrabe.