Better Than a Stick in the Eye

So last week I had to go to my doctor's office and do some lab work in preparation for the annual physical exam that I had today. I distinctly remember thinking that it was less than ideal to be up so early, and fasting at that. Then one of my grandmother's old sayings popped into my head, "Well it's better than a stick in the eye." Of course my grandmother was right, it was not that bad after all and I probably should have been more grateful for having the opportunity to take advantage of such great health care. But frankly I found it hard to appreciate being stuck in the arm with a needle and having to walk through a busy waiting room holding a plastic container of warm urine.

Well anyway, these annual visits have over the years become a routine for me, one that I no longer look forward to. In the distant past my doctor would review the lab tests, poke and prod me a little, pat me on the back, and then say in a satisfied way, "Everything appears to be great. Keep doing what you are doing." More recently things have not gone so smoothly and I have actually come to dread this time of year, knowing that it is quite possible that the doctor will tell me that he is concerned that there is something horribly wrong with me.

Anyway, last year a young woman from my doctor's office called me a few days after I had given blood to inform me that the doctor did not want me to take any calcium-based antacids for ten days or so. The woman told me that the doctor was concerned about the high level of calcium in my system and that we would talk about it when I came in for my physical. "Alright" I said. "Is this anything that I should be concerned about?"

There was a pause on the other end of the phone. "Well, I'm not sure. The doctor just asked me to let you know."

I should have immediately called my sister the doctor who would have told me that the labs were most likely screwed up and that I should not worry. Instead I took matters into my own hands and decided to google "high calcium". Part of my "I don't need to ask for directions" mentality I think. The first article that I opened told me that "Hypercalcemia is the most common life-threatening metabolic disorder associated with neoplastic diseases, occurring in an estimated 10% to 20% of all adults with cancer."

My heart sank. I knew that I had some untreatable malignant form of cancer that was intent on killing me within a matter of days. I actually envisioned asking the doctor how much time I had left and him responding "ten," to which I asked if he meant years, months, days. "Nine, eight, seven . . ." were the next words out of his mouth.

What helped to elevate my anxiety even more was the knowledge that I had not taken any antacids in a quite a while, and certainly not on a regular basis. Then it occurred to me. "Maybe it is from the milk." You see I do not remember a time when I did not drink at least four gallons of milk a week, and it is not at all unusual for me to drink a full gallon on any given day. There is absolutely nothing under the sun that I love to put in my body more than milk. When I was a child it was chocolate milk. I would mix a quart or so of milk with something approaching a cup of powered Nestles Quick then sit in front of the television with a table spoon and my concoction, draining the glass one slurping spoonful at a time. The only thing that has changed today is that I know longer add the chocolate to my milk.

The truth is that I am addicted to milk and the thought of giving up my habit was almost unbearable. For five full days I did not drink any milk. Not one drop. What was I going to do if the doctor told me that I had some condition that required that I not drink milk anymore, for the rest of my life. The fear of having cancer was lifted, having been replaced by the panic that resulted from the realization that I was going to be told that I could never drink milk again. This is how my mind works and yes it is tiring.

Come to find out that my sister the doctor had been right. The lab technicians had messed up my tests somehow. I did not have cancer and I did not have to give up my daily milk fixes. You can not imagine the sense of relief that I felt. While I am truly grateful for being cancer free and for not having to give up milk, I believe that I am at least equally grateful for being reminded that my exaggerated fears don't often have a basis in reality. Of course the problem is that my brain is leaky and what I learn I quickly forget. Oh well, such is life.