The Endgame

Newsletter #70 - Feeling seedy

Toronto, June 16, 2024

Feeling seedy

These days, if you get an ache or a pain, you go to Google or your favourite AI program for a quick diagnosis.

I asked the chatbot Perplexity: “Why do I have intermittent lower back pain?” The chatbot’s partial answer: “This type of pain can be caused by degenerated or herniated discs, degenerated facet joints, dysfunction of the sacroiliac joint, ligament issues, or weakened spinal muscles.”

Off I went, down the rabbit hole, a whole afternoon stupidly spent in hypochondriasis hell.

There’s nothing new about this particular torment. Hypochondriasis is as old as history. Hypochondriacs have always been with us. They are stock characters in fiction. The most famous is probably Argan, the protagonist of Molière’s play Le Malade Imaginaire.  Says Toinette, Argan’s sarcastic maid-servant: “Il marche, dort, mange et boit tout comme les autres; mais cela n'empêche pas qu'il ne soit fort malade.” (“He can get about, sleep, eat and drink like anybody else. But that doesn't mean to say he's not very ill.”)

Le malade imaginaire

One of my favourite novels is Three Men in a Boat, by Jerome K. Jerome, published in 1889. The book begins with the central character feeling seedy and going to the British Museum library to read a book about diseases. “I idly turned the leaves, and began to indolently study diseases in general. I forget which was the first distemper I plunged into... and, before I had glanced half down the list of ‘premonitory symptoms,’ it was borne in upon me that I had fairly got it.” As he turns the pages, he realizes that he has typhoid fever, St. Vitus’s Dance, ague, Bright’s disease, cholera, diptheria, gout, zymosis—indeed, everything except housemaid’s knee. (Housemaid’s knee – “Prepatellar bursitis, also known as housemaid's knee, is caused by inflammation of the prepatellar bursa in individuals who spend long periods kneeling, such as housemaids, clergy, and gardeners.”)

Our hero writes, “I walked into that reading-room a happy healthy man. I crawled out a decrepit wreck.” He goes to his doctor, who tells him, “Don’t stuff up your head with things you don’t understand.” So, what’s his solution to feeling seedy? A healthy holiday, going up the river in a small boat with two of his friends and a dog.

Myself, I passed on the idea of a trip in a small boat as a cure for my back pain. I had a small boat once, but it cured nothing—quite the contrary—and I gave it away after I was swept out to sea and had to be rescued by the coastguard. So, after extensive and useless Internet research, I went to the doctor.

“I see a lot of this in my practice,” the doctor said. “My great aunt Sadie had the same symptoms as you, she called it the shpilkes, boy did she complain.” He prescribed a popular pain killer to be taken in small dosages. When I got home, I looked up the drug’s possible side effects. The list was staggering and included: Accidental injury, blurred vision, burning, tingling, numbness or pain in the hands, arms, feet, or legs, change in walking and balance, clumsiness, confusion, poor insight and judgment, problems with memory or speech, rapid weight gain, sensation of pins and needles, shakiness, sleepiness, stabbing pain, etc., etc. But the most extraordinary possible side effect was “false beliefs that cannot be changed by facts.”

False beliefs that cannot be changed by facts? Half the world must be taking this stuff. When I told my wife Cynthia about this particular side effect, she smiled and said, “I probably won’t notice much of a difference.”

On my next visit to my doctor, I told him “I checked the side effects of that drug you prescribed.” “Oh, don’t do that,” he said. “Never check the side effects.”

A few of the comments received on Newsletter #69 (about hearing aids):

A Nova Scotia reader wrote: “A tortoiseshell ear trumpet, which was given to Evelyn Waugh by the Dowager Duchess of Devonshire, was once offered to journalist Alexander Chancellor to try on during a visit to the Waugh household. Chancellor, whose daughter Eliza is married to Evelyn’s grandson Alexander Waugh, recalls he ‘heard rather better through Waugh’s ear trumpet than I do through my two state-of-the-art Swiss-made electronic hearing aids that cost me around £2000 each a few years ago.’”

Another reader commented: “I recently said to my mom (90-years-old) ‘That nurse is a really nice guy.’ Her response, ‘Did you say, "I'm going to die?’"

The irrepressible David Wolinsky writes: “Although I’m a few years older than you, I’ve been able to rely on old stand-by hearing aids. Since I live alone, I merely turn up the volume on the TV, neighbours be damned. When spoken to or asked a question, I simply smile, nod, and walk away. Nobody says anything to an old person other than ‘How’s your day, find what you were looking for, or lousy weather’ so no problem. On the rare chance it’s important, they will just repeat the question in a much louder voice and I’ll say ‘No need to shout.’”

And from France: “I am jealous of your aids. Mine (from Costco!) do quite a few of the things that yours do but they miss the head hitting command and of course the wife listening top priority channel!”