It's 6 degrees at almost 6 a.m. on a Saturday morning, and I have started a fire in the wood stove, just for the pleasure of it.

I am in a good mood, and let me tell you why.

Yesterday's doctor's appointment was an anxiety. A mole on my leg had changed color and texture, and since October I'd been trying to make an appointment to talk to my doctor about it. But for a while she was away, and for a while her staff dropped the ball, and so our meeting was delayed till yesterday. That gave me three months to swallow worry.

Now, my primary concerns were not chemo, radiation, and death. Skin cancers can usually be managed more easily. But I have ACA health insurance, with a giant deductible. Insurance covers preventative care, but specialists, biopsies, tests, out-patient surgeries . . . no.

So let me sing the praises of a real, true, thoughtful primary-care physician, who, instead of shunting me off to a dermatologist, did the skin scan herself during my regular checkup and told me she thought I had nothing to worry about. Sure, I'm thrilled not to have cancer. But I'm also immensely grateful to have a doctor who recognizes and works around her patients' financial fragility.

One of these days, the shoe will drop: Tom or I will get really sick; and if we're not old enough for Medicare, we'll owe a lot of money. Yesterday was not that day.