Apology To Doctors

My apology to past and present doctors. I'm the architect of my own doom.  I’m guilty of an act of omission, of not telling you that I know why I’m sick with this and that.

Lifestyle.  I was born beautiful and perfect.  My parents raised me with warnings: eat your greens, eat corn on the cob, drain the fat, drink water with meals, walk to school or the store, help your grandmother at the farm, wash the walls and windows and don’t put hands on your head (nobody has died, mama used to say). 

That is how I was raised. Then I read magazines and went to the movies, which planted the seed for a lifestyle. It all came to pass when I earned my own money. I ditched mama’s food for ‘lifestyle’ food. 

I was a woman of the world and there was no way I would be caught dead eating grits for breakfast and solidified grits (uphuthu) for dinner. Water with meals? Not anymore. I wanted color, which I found in pop and fizzy drinks. I stopped walking and drove. I later learned that walking is called exercise.  l travelled in planes, where I picked up the salted peanuts ‘lifestyle’.  I cringe when I think of all that salt in my body. 

‘I don’t know doctor.’ 

Doctors know that we know what is wrong with us, that is why they are very diplomatic. Avoid salt. Reduce sugar. Stop smoking. Reduce alcohol. Get more exercise.

Confess. That is what we should do. Tell our doctors that we have been bad boys and bad girls during the COVID-19  six-months’ break.  What’s the point of lying? They’ll find out anyway.

By: Nonqaba waka Msimang.