Facebook Doctors

So, I just want to start by acknowledging the fact that there is an election this year, and I should be writing sarcastic and snarly things about that, but, given that the current Republican frontrunner feels the need to talk about how he could shoot someone and not lose a supporter, I think my words are a pale substitute for the real thing.

Anyway, given that I’m not up for that conversation, I thought I’d turn my attention to something that I find equally offensive: Facebook doctors.  

What is a Facebook doctor?  It’s a person who is not, in fact a doctor, but thinks that Facebook makes him or her one.  These are the people who are constantly forwarding the articles about how vaccinations really DO cause autism, and that the government made cancer in a shady back-room deal with big pharma.  They are always “curing” themselves and loved ones with the simple tools of one guava, some coconut oil, and arrowroot.  

Don’t get me wrong, I find no fault in alternative medicine.  Where I find fault is in practicing medicine without a license.  Now, I myself am not a doctor.  Scratch that, I am a doctor.  A LAW DOCTOR.  And, given that I spent four of the toughest years of my life learning all of the shit I needed to know to be a law doctor, I can tell you, without a doubt, that I know a lot more about the law than some doof who thinks that “law school” and “Wikipedia” are virtually synonymous.  And I can also tell you that “researching” the Constitution does NOT mean reading someone’s blog and giving a thorough listen to what Rush has to say.  Research means actually digging up cases and reading them – unabridged – and then reading the cases that those cases led to, reading all of the notes and comments, reading scholarly articles written in peer-reviewed publications, and repeating that until you actually understand the personalities of long-dead Supreme Court justices based solely on their writing.   

Applying my understanding of lawyering to doctoring, I am going to surmise that medical school consisted of more than Googling, “What is this rash on my leg?” and just going with that.  So, I find it super – super - annoying when folks really forcefully insist that they’ve “done the research” about why no one should ever even LOOK at a cow, much less eat its meat or milk, why everyone MUST start their day with lemon water and a fucking neti pot, and how prescription medicine is the work of the devil.

And I gotta tell you, I am not a fan of the taking of the medicine, myself. But I am, in fact, a fan of being happy and healthy.  I will also tell you that I did a fun 6 months of trying to “cure” my thyroid disease without medicine, and all I ended up doing was giving myself additional problems that I can now never fix.  I’m certainly not saying that diet, lifestyle, and environment play no role in disease.  We can look at Type II diabetes, hypertension, some types of depression, heart disease, and on and on and say, “Yeah, diet, lifestyle, and environment may have contributed here.”  We can even implement diet, exercise, and lifestyle changes.  BUT THAT DOESN’T MEAN THAT MEDICINE WON’T ALSO HELP FIX IT.  

The worst thing though, and I mean the worst, is that these Facebook doctors have friends who have real illnesses.  Cancer.  Heart disease.  Depression.  Who are looking for something to make themselves healthy and whole.  And that, purposely, or not purposely, they are telling their friends, “Don’t seek actual help.  I know better than that.”  Which is such arrogant, narcissistic, and frankly, weird shit, I can hardly comprehend it.  It does absolutely no good to tell your friend with cancer that, if only they had eaten enough turmeric, they might have a different outcome.  Or linking to articles espousing a conspiracy theory that homeopathic cancer doctors are being murdered by pharmaceutical companies.  Or to tell their friend who is depressed that medicine will just make them an addict.  Which is worse, being “addicted” to Prozac, or losing your job, family, happiness, and maybe even your life to depression?  

And that’s the thing about real, meaning Non-Facebook, doctors.  They know there’s not one cure; that every person is different, and complex, and worthy of actual attention, not just Facebook platitudes that serve no purpose but to serve the poster’s own ego. 

The Running Challenge

From Thanksgiving until New Years Day, I participated in a holiday-to-holiday running challenge.  The premise: run at least a mile every day starting on Thanksgiving and ending on New Years day.  The reason: ass fat.  I asked folks on Facebook if they wanted to do it and support each other, and, long story short, I got a couple of takers.  They are the real heroes of this story.  Not really.  I am the fucking hero of this story and don’t forget it.  But having other people in the boat was great.  NOBODY IS AN ISLAND, PEOPLE, EVEN IF THEY WOULD MAKE AN AWESOME ISLAND.

Anyway, I really thought that the “challenge” part of this challenge was going to be physical.  I have never run every day, mostly because I’m generally pretty ouchy, and my tendons hate me.  I was in a freaking hard splint for 6 months and considered tendon release surgery after an injury from crocheting too hard. That is not a lie, and I don’t know how you crochet too hard, but I have done it.  I’ve had enough cortisone in my body to fully understand ‘roid rage. So, running every day had the potential for peril.  But I live dangerously.  And anyway, that wasn’t the challenge at all.

The real challenge from all of this was mental.  Finding the time to run.  Getting my ass into my running clothes. Figuring out how far at what pace I was going to run. Figuring out how I was going to entertain myself. Getting out of my running clothes.  Taking a shower.  Getting redressed and put back together.  And knowing that it was all going to happen again the next day.  And there was also the challenge of the outdoors.  I managed all but three runs outdoors, and had to account for rain, wind, snowfog (a real thing!), heat, cold, sunshine, darkness, and cars that always want to hit me.  And finding the right damn socks.  Always the socks.  Also, no one in this world loves a routine quite like I do, but I had to shoehorn runs in early in the morning, late in the evening, at lunch, after work, and once, after a glass of wine. And by glass, I mean “glass.”  You know what I mean.

But in the end, what I loved about the challenge actually was the unpredictability, and the sense that today was going to be different than yesterday. The mental challenge.  Was I going to run alone or with a friend? With the dog? In the sunshine?  In a deluge? In my nemesis, the wind? Where was I going to run? How could I run in Manhattan with only shorts and a tee shirt, 30 degree temps outside, and a barely functioning treadmill in a hot, creepy basement? (Answer: learn to love the hot, creepy basement.) What should I do when the sidewalks were flooded and the rain nonstop? (Answer: forego any electronics and run up and down the street four times like I was being chased.) How was today’s run going to feel?  What could I do to make it interesting?  Did it even need to be interesting?  Because really, did I really find it that difficult to spend the twenty minutes it took for me to run a couple of miles alone with myself, with my thoughts, with my breathing, and with the ground passing underneath my feet?    

The challenge was 37 days long.  At around day 20, I realized that I was going to make it.  That I’d already faced ouchy days, shit weather days, days when I really didn’t want to do it, and days that were logistically challenging.  And even on the days when it hadn’t been fun, it also hadn’t killed me. My friend Anita, who also completed the challenge, wrote on my wall one day, “Feeling like I just couldn’t make time for a run. But you know what, I can and I did.  And feel much better for it!!!”  In the end, that was the payoff. Realizing that – no matter what – that I could, and that I would.  And not only do I feel better for it, I think I am better for it.  But seriously, I need more socks.