Good morning! We’re grateful that you chose to spend a few minutes of your Friday with us. Thank you. We’re also super excited for you to read Enrique’s Inspiring Story.

If you have a second I can’t wait to tell you about this cardiology office visit – so wild!!

Last Monday I was all pumped up because we had Michael Hunter (not his real name) scheduled for 8:45. It was Mike’s routine yearly follow-up, but my nurse Megan (that’s her name) told me he had a lot to share.

Knock, knock.

I’m taken a little aback as I enter his room “My goodness, you look great! How have you been, Mike?”

Connie (Michael’s wife) is next to him. I’d only seen her twice over the years, but I swear, she also looks younger.

“Dr. Dave, it’s all non-cardiac stuff but it started pretty soon after I left our office visit last year. I’ve just about told everyone else, so I might as well tell you.

“You know how you’ve encouraged me to be more active and lose 5-10% of my weight?”

To set the stage, Michael had, in his own words, “let himself go” over the last 6-8 years.

I shared with him numerous times that I was worried about his course.

He sits in the room now, 53 years old, 5’8″, and 245 lbs (267 in August ’23).

“Shortly after our last visit,” he looks over at Connie, “Was it a month?”

“Three and a half weeks,” she said nodding.

“Anyway, yeah, I started noticing things. Weird things.” he resumed. 

“Like what?!” I was on the edge of my seat, anticipating a really good story (Hopefully, it was better than this one, David?).

“You know how I’ve taken 2-3 ibuprofen a day for years?”

“Sure, your trick knee from playing ball at Swarthmore. We’d been talking about you trying to cut back (better for the ticker)”

“Yep, someday last November, I realized I hadn’t taken an Advil in months.”

“Anyway, I hadn’t told you, but I’d been sneaking cigarettes for years. Anything stressful came up and I’m out in the garage”

Connie looks at Megan and me, “Every day” she says.

“Now I haven’t smoked for seven and a half months,” he leans over to give me a high-five.

His hand is a little dirty, but who cares? This is great bonding.

“Then on September 30th, we get back from our walk. Connie and I started taking the dog for a walk for 20-30 minutes after dinner. Sometimes, we go 45-60 minutes. Kind of like that silly Walk with a Dog thing you do,” he chortles. 

“Now Michael, that’s not nice,” Connie jumps in with her best Mrs. Cleaver voice.

“Well we get back from our walk and the clock reads 5:25? The darn clock reads 5:25!”

I look over at Connie, confused.

“We always, always start dinner (hopefully not a lot of red meat, Connie?) at 5:30,” she shares.

“I’m staring at the kitchen clock and the one in the den and the DANG THINGS ARE MOVIN’ BACKWARDS!”

She adds, “We’ve literally had three different repair people out. None of them can stop these clocks from moving backward.”

“Then, catch this…

A couple of months ago I went to see Dr. Igo, my family doc. She walks into the room holding my chart, all silent-like, squintin’ at me. She didn’t say nothin’!”

“Scared us to death,” shared Connie.

“Scared me to DEATH. She said my hemoglobin A1C (measurement to assess diabetic control over the previous 2-3 months), my LDL (bad cholesterol), and my blood pressure have all totally normalized. 

She said it’s as if I’d overtaken someone else’s body.”

“Like a ZOMBIE APOCALYPSE?!!” I blurted out. 

Awkward pause.

“No, I don’t think so Dave.” 

He looks back at Connie and resumes.

“Anyway, she said in 31 years of practicing medicine, she had never seen anything close to it. Then, this is where it gets really weird”

“A couple of months ago some neighbor friends threw me a surprise party. The cake said 

Happy 43rd Michael in big, bold blue icing.”

Ahhh, blue, my favorite flavor.

Connie jumped in, “They were all at his ‘covid-tinged’ 50th in 2021! They all know his age.”

“When I tried to correct them, they just laughed at me. Then Billy, the shy sandy-haired kid down the street grabs my arm, pulls it down, and whispers, “Keep this up and next year you’ll be 42.”

Dr. Dave, I tell you what. Sure as shootin’, he meant it.”

“Keep what up?” I asked.

“Huh? Oh, the boy. As I said, I have no idea what’s going on. We’ve gone over it a million times. The only thing we did differently, the ONLY thing (his right index finger raised to emphasize importance) is take Muffin Cakes (real name) on a walk after dinner.” 

I’m looking at this guy and I swear, the dude looks young!

“So, Doc. Whaddya think about them apples? Pretty friggin’ weird, huh?”

“What do I think?”

You started out by saying it’s non-cardiac. You bet it’s cardiac! Little Muffie Cakes is saving…”

“Doc!” he interrupts, “it’s Muff-IN Cakes. Muff-IN Cakes.”

“Muff-in Cakes saved your life. That’s why we do Walk with a Doc – it’s the cure. That’s why it’s free. Everybody needs to have it”

“But, doc – clocks spinning backward?”

Our office clock now reads 8:22. We entered the room at 8:43.

“Our amazing WWAD doctors aren’t kidding when they say it’s the Fountain of Youth?” I share. “They’re right!”

Michael shakes his head, smiles, and says,

“Well, doc, Megan – Connie and I say thanks. I feel like a million bucks.”

We all look over at Megan, who’s sitting on our beige leather swivel stool in the exam room corner. Normally she’d be transcribing, but here she sits, legs crossed at the ankles, looking to the sky, and eating a purple carrot.

“MEGAN?!!”

In one continuous motion, she stands up, puts down the carrot, reaches into her white lab coat, and pulls out a Milk-Bone, flipping it end-over-end perfectly to Connie.

“Don’t thank us. Thank Muffin Cakes,” she shares as she slips out of the room.

Megan’s cool like that. 

Happy Friday!!!

david

Disclaimer: this is a fictional story.