There aren’t many comparisons I can draw between myself and a professional quarterback. At most, I can throw a football about 20 yards with any level of accuracy. I can give a good handoff to a running back as long as there’s no pressure to actually stick it. And, unless we’re talking about eggs, I couldn’t scramble if my life depended on it.

But the one thing I do share with the top-level quarterbacks these days is pocket awareness. For those unfamiliar with the game of football, pocket awareness is the phrase used to describe a quarterback’s ability to sense — by sheer experience and instinct — when the rush of the opposing team’s defense is approaching.

I can sense when bad things are upon me.

In my version of this scenario, the football field is a doctor’s office and instead of a 275-pound lineman running me down from the blind side, it is a small female doctor who is out to ruin my good time.

I can sense a doctor’s appointment coming on. And since I have only mediocre offensive numbers to report to my doctor this time around, I know it won’t be an easy appointment to get through.

I could use the old “It’s the holiday” play to get past her defense, but somehow I think she’ll be expecting that. And even though I did not indulge in all the treats that crossed my path this season, I could have done much better overall.

As for exercise, let’s just say I have not shown up to practice as much as I could have. Basically, not at all. So, I know the defense will feed on that fact. (I can see another prescription coming on, too.)

Then, there are the quarterback sneaks to consider. By that, I mean there are some new developments in my playbook that I have to consider keeping from the defense.

Should I tell my doctor about the new Krispy Kreme doughnut shop that’s opened up on my route to work? Should I let her know I’ve discovered a new burger in which the bun is actually two grilled cheese sandwiches? (I haven’t actually had that, but a man can dream.)

No matter what I do at this next doctor appointment, I’m certain that all my free passes are used up, and next month’s Super Bowl feast, for me, will consist of carrots, hummus and some sort of lifeless, tasteless protein.

But, in the grand scheme of things, the sack to be delivered by my relentless doctor will be a well-deserved one. An all-pro quarterback doesn’t get to the big game without working hard and making sacrifices. And a struggling diabetic doesn’t get to his promised land by cheating on his diet and missing opportunities to exercise.

So, as quarterback of this team to get myself healthy, I’ll have to take this hit. But for the sake of a few chicken wings during the big game, I wish I knew how to scramble for some extra calories.