Wordless

The less words people say to explain something, the more meaningful the message.  Less is better since it leaves out room for interpretation.  That’s especially true with what your doctor tells you.  Just think how you’d feel if your doctor talked like the White House Press Secretary.  You ask, “So, what are the side effects?” She says, “Generally speaking in the long and short run going forward some patients received treatments unbeknownst to them that may or may not have caused un-measurable results which in hind site should have been replaced by newer treatments that weren’t available decades ago when your care team then could have realized the future long term side effects now.”  My doctor once recommended I start taking cholesterol meds.  I wondered out loud to him whether I should start eating more fiber instead.  He said, “you’d need to eat a bushel of broccoli a day to even make a dent in it.”  Not very scientific, but I got it.

Likewise, my father was a man of few words.  In High School I was put on the waiting list to get into Notre Dame, so my back up was Ithaca College where I was planning to play football.  One night I ventured into the cellar to spring my college plans on The Chief.  The spin went,  “Hey, I’ve not heard from Notre Dame yet, so I’m thinking of going to Ithaca instead; it’ll be cheaper with the scholarship, closer to home, I can get a motorcycle, ….”  He was working on the oil burner like Ralphie’s Dad in “The Christmas Story” and cut me off mid-sentence, “if you get into Notre Dame you’re going to get your ass on the plane and that’s where you’re going to college.”  Question asked, answer given.

To be fair, more complex topics demand broader responses, but it never works that way.  Years ago I was running a physician group in Melbourne, FL where several of the doctors had invested in a nearby micro brewery.  They wanted me to invest with them, so I met the brew master, tasted the beers, and took home the investment package to show Diane.  I pitched, “I think this brewery will have a great return on investment.”  Without even glancing up from brushing the dog she said, “You already have a keg of Budweiser on tap 24-7 and now you want to own the brewery too?”  A little more color would have been nice, but at least throw me a bone.

As for my own medical care, I’m pretty brief about it; mostly because its vague and complicated; there’s little point in detailing something I don’t even know myself even though people want me to say more.   I prefer to say things like, “vertical is good” or “I’m a little light headed from the chemo” using a Valley Girl accent which seems to cover a lot of bases.  Besides, life is not about what you say;  it’s about what you do and that friends needs no words at all.  Slainte!