I'm as bad as most other guys when it comes to going to the doctor, but maybe for different reasons

This is how I picture Amber, my primary care provider, when I reschedule my annual check-up for the third time in the last three months.

In two weeks, I'm scheduled for an annual physical with Amber, my nurse practitioner/primary care provider at the Cleveland Clinic.

Amber is great. I like her a lot. She's smart, friendly and takes the time to engage with me and answer my questions.

You would think, then, that I would look forward to seeing her for my check-up. And usually that's true.

But sometimes, specifically when I know I haven't been eating well and my weight is above what it should be, I avoid seeing Amber.

Take this upcoming appointment, for example. It was originally supposed to happen last spring, I think, and I have moved it back three times.

This repeated rescheduling has not happened because I've suddenly had calendar conflicts. It has happened because, other than a two-month stretch over the summer when I first started strength training, I have spent most of 2024 not eating particularly well.

And thus the number on the scale hasn't been great.

The fact is, I only want to see Amber when I know my numbers will be good. And by "numbers," I mean not just weight, but also cholesterol, blood sugar, etc. I go to the doctor not to ensure everything is working OK, but to gain validation that I'm doing great and am...I don't know, a good person?

I don't have to explain how messed up this approach is. It's like waiting until your car seems to be running well before going to a mechanic.

Making this even worse is that my weight isn't that bad, and it's not like Amber is going to yell at me or anything.

Yet I still don't want to hear that my BMI (that most useless of all health metrics) isn't in the normal/good range, or that I need to watch my carb and sugar intake.

I know all these things, and I beat myself up about them often enough without anyone else having to get on me about them.

And again, my bloodwork numbers can't be that bad. In fact, they may all be just fine, I don't even know. It's just the possibility of getting scolded over them, even mildly, that makes me go to the MyChart website and take advantage of that "Reschedule Appointment" link again and again.

Still, I don't think there's any getting out of this physical in two weeks. Like many corporate wellness programs, the one I have at work offers monetary incentives (lower health insurance premiums) just for going to the doctor and for meeting certain biometric targets.

There's hundreds of dollars at stake here. I can't ditch this one.

So I'm going to go. And I'm going to tell Amber the good news first: I'm finally lifting weights!

Then will come the not-as-good news: I'm also lifting a lot of cookies into my mouth!

She will laugh, we'll talk a bit about the mental game of portion control, and it will be fine.

That's what I keep telling myself: It will be fine.

My doctor and the five love languages

It is often the case in marriage that the wife makes health care decisions not only for herself and for the children, but also for her husband. Some guys simply won't go to the doctor unless someone makes them go, and most of the time, the only person who can make a husband do anything is his wife.

That last part – about the wife's ability to make her husband do anything – is absolutely true for me. Life is easier if I just go along with whatever Terry says. Plus, if I'm being honest here, I'll tell you I'm also terrified of her.

But the part about guys not wanting to go to the doctor? Not me at all. This may sound strange, but I love going to the doctor. I'm not kidding, I look forward to it.

Part of the reason is because my primary care doc, Dr. Spech-Holderbaum, is wonderful. I really like her, and she takes the time to answer my questions.

More importantly, she also takes time to praise me when I put up good numbers. Like, for instance, if my weight and blood pressure are in the healthy range, she tells me what a good job I did.

I am a 46-year-old man. I should not be motivated by a pat on the head from my physician, but I am. I get giddy with anticipation when I know my vitals are good and I'm going to see Dr. Spech-Holderbaum soon.

This is because my love language is "Words of Affirmation." Are you hip to the whole love language thing? The concept comes from a 20-year-old book by relationship counselor Gary Oldman called "The Five Love Languages."

The idea, as I remember it, is that everyone has a particular love language; that is, a particular way of speaking or acting by their partner to which they respond best. (And I think everyone also has a secondary love language, but I'm not sure on that part.)

As I said, my primary love language is "Words of Affirmation," which is just what it sounds like. If you tell me I did a good job and offer up a few words of praise every once in a while, I will run through a brick wall for you. You'll have me hooked.

Other love languages are Gifts, Quality Time, Acts of Service, and Physical Touch. Terry's love language is Acts of Service, as I'm reminded every time I sit down on the couch and she puts her feet in my lap so I can rub them.

Anyway, we were talking about my doctor. I have my annual physical scheduled for this Monday, and I'm genuinely excited to go. I'm anticipating some glowing feedback from Dr. Spech-Holderbaum. In fact, I'm not nearly as concerned about getting a gauge on my overall physical well-being as I am about hearing what a good and conscientious person I am.

It's sad, really.