A Check-Up on More Than Just My Health

Today I did something that’s been on my to-do list for a while: I went for a physical check-up. The kind you’re meant to do every year. For me, it had been five.

I kept putting it off. I told myself I didn't need to go. But the truth is, I was nervous. Nervous about being weighed, about feeling judged, about being told things I already sort of know but hadn’t had the energy to face. And embarrassed, embarrassed to have let myself go.

 

But here’s what actually happened:

Everyone was kind. I didn’t feel judged. I felt seen — as a whole person, not just a number on a scale. Or as a person squeezed into the largest pair of scrubs on hand. And after all that hesitation, the results were reassuring. I’d only put on 1kg since my last visit. And while I’ve likely fluctuated more than that in the five years between appointments, it didn’t matter. What mattered was that I showed up.

In the waiting room, I noticed people of all shapes and sizes and ages each with their own stories and secrets. It reminded me that healthcare — real, caring healthcare — should be available to everyone. And that it should always start with kindness, safety, and the absence of judgment. Because sometimes we put off appointments not out of neglect, but out of fear.

Booking this appointment — and showing up — felt like true self-care. Not the kind you post on Instagram, but the quiet kind. The kind that makes you exhale and think, OK, I’m doing this for myself and for the people I love.

 

I had to ask my husband Takeshi to book the appointment, as an employee of our company and therefore registered on the company health insurance plan. The conversation was awkward, anxiety-ridden and truth be told I cried. In our family we like to pretend that nothing bad happened and that no bad thing will ever happen again. But that's a problem for another day. 

Bad things do happen. My dad passed away from cancer two years ago. It was sudden. He was relatively young. Just a few months from diagnosis to goodbye. That experience rocked me to my core, and it’s one of the reasons I don’t want to leave my own health to chance. I want to be around for my kids, and I want them to see that looking after yourself isn’t selfish — it’s essential.

I also finally made it back to the dentist after a two-year gap. I’d missed an appointment when I returned to help care for my dad, and then I just… couldn’t get back into it. Grief is strange like that. It shrinks your world for a while. But recently, I’ve felt something shift.

 

Looking back, I realise I’ve kept doing “all the things” these past two years — running my business, showing up, ticking boxes — but it wasn’t until recently that I noticed how much of it was on autopilot. Grief has a way of dulling things. I did what I needed to do, but often with half a heart. I miss my dad deeply.  It’s only now that I’m beginning to feel like myself again — a version of myself who can care again, not just cope.

 

You've been there for me and I am so grateful. You didn't push me. You haven't judged.

Why am I sharing all this? Because if you’ve been putting off a check-up or a dental appointment or anything else that feels a bit overwhelming — you’re not alone. If the idea of walking into a clinic makes you self-conscious, I get it. But I want to gently remind you that you deserve care. No matter your shape, your size, your past, your fears, what you do or don't do to be healthy.

At our shop, we talk a lot about warmth — literal warmth from the wool we sell, but also the kind of warmth that comes from being seen and accepted as you are. That includes embracing all the seasons of our lives.