Good health has many twists and turns. And while I seem to be winning the bout with diabetes, the tiny non-incident with my heart recently provided me with an opportunity to see one of the reasons why I’m fighting the battle to stay healthy.

I was sent on a little excursion by my regular doctor to see a cardiologist to make sure the old ticker was still fine. It was there where I got to see the little men at work. And I sort of likened this visit to the doctor to a soldier going to visit some place sacred to his country, though on a much smaller scale. It gave me an image of what I’m fighting for.

When I was taken into the back room by the technician that would be doing the ultrasound of my heart, I couldn’t help but look around and start to feel like a sick person. After all, when in the company of those you perceive as sick, you can’t help but feel sick. But then I thought, not so very long ago, when my blood sugar had reached that wonderfully normal range, I felt like Superman. And there’s no way Superman could have a bad ticker.

So as I approached the little table where the exam was to take place, I felt my confidence growing. So much so, that I even felt like chatting up the technician a bit in my usual charming way. (Luckily, she didn’t have me arrested or anything.)

Once that gooey gel was spread across my chest and the exam began, there was more curiosity than worry. This was the first time I had seen my heart in action. And after some very aggressive poking and prodding by the technician on her journey to my very illusive nougaty center, there it was up on the monitor. I asked the technician if she could turn the screen so I could get a better view of my guys on the job.

Suddenly, there they were, emerging through what seemed like miles of other stuff inside me that may or may not have included a Butterfinger wrapper. The little guys that open and close the chambers of my heart were working away. And I was amazed to see my inner-workings doing what it had been doing since I was plopped out on this Earth. Through the late night binges on fast food and candy bars, the little men kept working. Through the parties and drinking sessions where one too many turned into several too many, those old guys stayed late and kept working.

I actually feel proud knowing those little valves were working on my team.

When the exam was over and it was confirmed that my heart, little guys and all, were still doing their jobs quite well, my Superman feeling was somewhat restored, as was my resolve to keep a positive attitude on my journey to good health.

And to the technician that did my exam, if I find the ring you lost in my girth, I’ll mail it to you. Sorry.