When It's Time for Change

Surrendering what's familiar for what's best

Ah, the end of August. That crazy rush to pack in the last of summer before school begins. For some, school is underway and that means new supplies, clothes, and haircuts.

Speaking of haircuts…

Most of the summer I’ve thought about a particular episode of Seinfeld, “The Barber”. It was a take on the Barber of Seville and how Jerry needed to change barbers because things weren’t working out. He felt like he was cheating, and the hilarity went from there.

I am Jerry. How about you?

I don’t like switching things up. When the grocery chain Bottom Dollar was bought out, I needed a new store. I complained forever on that one. Why did it have to go away?

Then there’s a favorite restaurant. When those close for whatever reason, what then? That was the place. The go-to.

I remember it took me a solid year to change hair stylists. The one I started with when I moved to the area did brilliant work but was unstable. You never knew what she’d charge, what her mood was, or if you’d get a smile or a cuss out. But her work? Perfection. Leaving her felt like cheating. I knew the person I was transitioning to, and she was and is amazing. Still, making that move was daunting.

Why is change so hard?

This year my big switch has been in the medical field. I learned late last year my endocrinologist was retiring. I had severe PCOS and endometriosis, and menopause has made insulin resistance and living comfortably without volcanic inner temps and constant hunger near impossible. I had a doctor that got me and knew what worked and what didn’t. Poof. He’s off golfing or something retirees do.

I found another earlier this year, but now comes the medicine juggle. If I’m prescribed something helpful, insurance brings a heavy boot down and I’m back to the beginning. A few months ago I had the “joy” of learning a medication I’d been on to keep my hormones at bay was no longer covered. Insurance sent a little list of replacements and my general doctor prescribed one.

Going off the former and starting the new was rough. The new medicine to help with the insulin issue was doing a great job—-until the other new med. Now I’m back to sweating, being hungry, awake, angry, and just generally miserable. On top of that, my glucose levels have plummeted. I quit testing because each time triggered a call from the nurse. I’ve had some symptoms of low low blood sugar, but not all the time. Still, the drop in numbers is huge and now consistent.

My doctor wasn’t too concerned. Just let the new medicine work. See you in a few months.

My husband has been saying forever it’s time to switch.

My nurse friend said it’s probably time to make a change.

The latest nurse who had to respond to my low glucose reading announced a new doctor might be in order.

Ugh. why am I dreading it? Is it aging?

Perhaps. I know people like comfort. The tried and true, even if it isn’t. Sometimes we’d rather put on the sad fuzzy slippers than the shiny boots.

Of course, I’m not advocating making the change in marriage just because things are getting old or you’re frustrated. I’m also not saying stay if there is abuse. I’m talking about the everyday things like finding a new grocery store, trading that car in or getting a new doctor.

It’s hard to let go of what we know.

Maybe my reluctance was because in 2004 God moved us away from everything we knew, trusted, felt safe with, and planted us 300 miles away where we knew no one. It was on me to find a team of doctors for our then-sick baby. Pick out that new grocery store. Dentist. Everything. It was one of the biggest challenges of my life.

But I’m obedient, albeit slow to get there sometimes. It’s time for that new doctor. I made the call yesterday and believe I’ll close out 2024 feeling better than I have.

Oh, and I’m also getting my haircut tomorrow.

How about you? Is change hard? Do you have any tips that make it easier?

As for the chocolate mention, I’ve been snacking on trail mix. I want the protein but need the sugar. Those little chocolate gems are treasures, aren’t they?