And My Blood Type, Too, Perhaps?

I was in to see the Doctor this afternoon.

In and out.

It only took about 5 minutes for him to tell me that he wants me to be taking iron pills. Three a day, instead of one.

Apparently the blood sugar is still steady, and the thyroid function is still good.

The iron, however, not so much.

You're anaemic, he said.

How anaemic? I asked.

Very, he said.

So, that was that. (aside from a clarifying call to the pharmacist after reading all the lovely stickers they added to the iron pills with instructions to not take them with basically everything in my diabetes diet.)

After the Doctor and  a couple of errands at the bank, we went to get our driver's licenses switched over.

You know, to really belong to this new province we find ourselves in. To get a proof of residency.

FIRST I didn't have a second proper piece of I.D. to go with my Saskatchewan Driver's License, although she was willing to work with what I had because Randall was there with his acceptable second proof of identity.

THEN she asked if there were any "conditions" she should be aware of... heart disease, diabetes.... and like that.

Type 2 diabetes, I said.

OH!

Well,

In THAT case,

I need to take this form to my Doctor, and have a medical exam, and get it filled out.

Which comes with an extra  $60 fee.

THEN I can maybe get my license.

The last time we moved provinces, it was before 9-11.

Not only is my sweetness now a possible liability, but it feels like since that day, there is all manner of suspicion to overcome.

One must have proof of identity and proof of residency to vote.

Proof of identity and proof of residency to open a bank account.

Proof of identity and proof of residency to get a flippin' library card.

Likewise proof of identity and proof of residency to get a driver's license or Provincial health insurance.

The irritation grows when the proofs of identity and residency all hinge on each other to be proven, and you can't get one without having the other.

A freaking vicious cycle.