I had a routine wellness check nearly a month ago. You know, the kind where they ask for your blood, urine, time, patience, insurance card and father’s grandfather’s brother’s health history. I told the doctor I thought he was healthy but passed at age 20. World War I really took a toll on the young, healthy guys. 

I was asked to sit alone in a quiet, cold room and proofread five pages of contact information followed by eight pages of health history. 

How many times did I need to write my last name, middle initial and first name for one appointment, do you think?

Six. 

Then I moved into the health history questionnaire. Every year prior, I’ve breezed through this bad boy like a college student who knew they were going to pass the class without regard to how they did on the final. All answers were proudly marked NO.

This time was different. I realized I was sitting in a small room with nothing to do but think about my health. My future. No remembering someone else’s birthdate, last fever or social security number. This time I took the wellness survey quite seriously.  

Do you have an existing and/or recent problem with:
Please explain all answers marked YES.

Insomnia: YES
I haven’t slept since Cyrus was born — seven years ago.

Daytime drowsiness: YES
I think not sleeping in seven years may have something to do with this. 

Recent weight gain/loss in the last 6 months: YES
I’ve been fluctuating the same 10 pounds like it’s a hobby. Every night I reward the chaos with a slab of Rocky Road and whisper promises to my prepregnancy jeans. They were perfect. They were loyal. And now they’re discontinued in store and online.

Sensitive ears: YES
There was a time in my life when I lived one block from railroad tracks, and I never once heard the (four) night trains. Today I can hear our cattle bawl the next county north, and I can also hear my husband’s dreams of Angus bulls. Exhausting. 

Shortness of breath when walking at an ordinary pace on level ground: YES
Have you ever tried to carry five-gallon buckets of feed in Indiana mud? It should be an Olympic sport. 

Wheezing that interferes with your job: YES
See above. 

Heartburn that is not related to eating: YES
U.S. politics.

Pain in abdomen: YES
See response above about the Rocky Road. 

Numbness in limbs: YES
We don’t have a garage, so when I carry grocery bags to the house, I try to stack at least five bags per arm, and this causes numbness after my third trip. 

Wondering if life is worth it: YES
In the last week I have stubbed the same ingrown toenail on the same fourth-grade science textbook in the 5:15 a.m. darkness. Twice.

I submitted my clipboard to the nurse and took a catnap on the paper table lining, while she and her team analyzed my assessment. 

The doctor came in the room six short minutes later. She held on to her stethoscope like it was a necklace and crossed her legs like a friend leaning in for a really raw chat. 

“How are you, Lindsay?”

“I’m fine,” I responded without thought.

She leaned in like a sister that knew too much.

“I have two active and sports-crazy kids at home who can only carry half buckets, and it’s bull sale season ... travel season for my husband,” I responded without prompt. “And … we’re calving. And I work a full-time job.”

She smiled. 

“You need to get those kids to bed earlier. Take daily walks. And shut off your phone after 9:00 every night.”

That was it: Three instructions, no drugs. I walked out of the doctor’s office wondering if I was a hypochondriac. Then I quietly assured myself: Not a hypochondriac, I’m a farm mom. 

Editor’s note: Lindsay Sankey is a freelance writer from Economy, Ind.