Page 6 of Giovanni
“Are you eating out all three meals of the day? Is that what I am hearing?”
He knows this. I know he knows this. It’s the same question he asked last year and the year before. It didn’t start that way when I first got the job at the District Attorney’s Office, but it sure is that way now.
“Um . . . yes.”
Dr. Patel’s lips press into a thin line.
“Kacie, this can’t continue. Your career is important, but you’re heading toward the edge of a cliff if you continue. High blood pressure, prediabetes—these are serious conditions that can lead to life-threatening events like heart attacks or strokes.”
His words are startling, sending chills into my hair. I’m always good when put on the spot in the courtroom, but my usual defense mechanisms fail me in the doctor’s office.
“Wow, that’s hard, given my job. The demands are unrelenting. And with the DA election this year, we’re getting a lot of pressure to clear up the case backlog.”
He straightens his posture, regarding me with a blend of professional detachment and personal concern.
“I know you work hard, Kacie. You have an impressive record. You’re one of the best prosecutors this city has. Your name is always in the paper, but what’s the point if you’re not around to enjoy the fruits of your labor? It would be best if you made some changes.Immediately.”
“What do I need to do? I mean, specifically. I can’t exactly quit my job.”
I feel glum as I thought I had more time to get this under control. The reality that I’m only thirty-seven years old and facing these health issues is upsetting. From the sound of it, things will only worsen if I don’t get a handle on this. Dr. Patel leans forward, arms draped over his crossed legs.
“First, we need to address your diet. More whole foods, less processed meals. That means preparing food at home, which I know is a challenge with your schedule, but it’s vital—and portion control. Cut back on the takeout. Reduce sodium and increase your intake of fruits, vegetables, and lean proteins. Small, frequent meals to stabilize your blood sugar.”
I release an overwhelming breath—needing a personal chef. The simplicity of the advice belying its difficulty.
“And what else?”
“Exercise. At least thirty minutes a day. Walking, swimming, anything to get your heart rate up. A combination of cardio for your heart and weights for muscle strength. Find an activity you enjoy. It’s not just about weight loss. It’s about your heart health and managing stress.”
Stress. I almost laugh. The concept is a familiar companion, an ever-present shadow in my life as an ADA. I can’t help but think of my crammed schedule.
“I’ll have to carve out the time, I guess.”
The thought is as daunting as the high-profile cases under my charge.
Dr. Patel smiles, but it’s a serious one.
“You must. It’s non-negotiable. Meditation, yoga, deep-breathing exercises. Anything that can help you decompress. Stress exacerbates every condition you’re facing.”
All that sounds foreign to me, but the fear of having a heart attack or stroke is a powerful motivator.
“And about the pressure from your office,” he adds, standing and moving close for the examination part. “Remember, your health won’t wait for anyone’s reelection. You’re no good to anyone if you’re hospitalized or worse.” Dead. He doesn’t have to say it. It’s strongly implied, and my heart races in my chest as he places the stethoscope against it. “Deep breaths, please.”
I need the deep breaths to calm down more than he needs them to hear my lungs. Worry settles into the pit of my stomach. The urgency of the situation is apparent. This isn’t a closing argument I can charm my way through. This is my life, my well-being hanging in the balance.
“Okay.” I steel myself with my newfound reality. “I’ll make the changes. More home-cooked meals, more exercise. Less . . . everything else.”
The examination continues, checking my ears, eyes, nose, and throat and confirming if I got my flu shot.
“Good.”
Dr. Patel steps back, indicating the appointment is over.
“I want to see you back here in three months. We’ll check your progress and adjust if needed. And Kacie,” he adds, pausing by the door. “Start today. There’s no time to waste. The front desk will send the bloodwork order to the lab. They are right next door, so get that done.”
“I will.”
This day has to get better.
