I just got off the phone with one of my doctors.

After a few hours of wondering if some strange but familiar pains were anything to address, I made a few phone calls. I connected with an anointed secretary, found a potential window in the doctor’s schedule, and completed a 20 minute telemedicine appointment that answered every question, and solved some problems I didn’t realize I had.

I got wise counsel, a prescription, and the reassurance that some wonky sensations are more likely the result of dehydration than spinal meningitis, and no-one in my household needs urgent medical care.

Yes, I google symptoms.

No, it is not a good idea.

But this is where we live.

I have a world of information at my fingertips, and little understanding of how to use it.

The “infinite monkey theorem” is a math problem arguing that an infinite number of monkeys hitting random typewriter keys an infinite amount of times will eventually, as a matter of probability, type the complete works of Shakespeare.

In other words, enough repetitions of enough chaotic acts will eventually, at sufficient volume, stumble upon order.

I don’t know if this is true.

I do know that it’s relatable.

I know that often feel like an underqualified scribe, typing aimlessly in the dark and occasionally striking gold.

And I know that as it pertains to my areas of well-informed ignorance, I often feel less like a smarter guy than a fool with a better typewriter.

The thing is, I do believe in stewarding over the information available to me.

I do believe that responsible self-care means being informed, thinking critically, living as healthy as I know how, and then going to the doctor, quickly, when something goes wrong, instead of thinking I should just suck it up and deal.

I don’t need to tough it out. I need to rule it out. Which means I need to check it out.

And this is borne out by my experience.

I have had the experience, more than once, of going to the doctor, and finding out something unusual was wrong. I didn’t need Ritalin. I didn’t need Prozac. And I wasn’t oppositional defiant. I needed brain surgery.

I have also had the heartbreaking experience of watching people I loved ignore a nagging condition or listen to a cavalier doctor who said it was all in their head, until they finally had a dramatic episode that revealed an incurable disease.

It wasn’t pneumonia. It wasn’t anxiety. It was cancer. And he should have ordered those tests years ahead of time.

Stage four cancer is a devastating diagnosis. If you catch it five years earlier, you have options.

So, I go to the doctor sooner than later. I give the Enemy no room to mess with my health, or torment my thinking. I rule it out and move on.

Not today, Satan. And tomorrow doesn’t look good either.

So today, this involved a few phone calls, and a telemedicine appointment with an amazing practitioner who always takes care of The Fields.

I showed him my area of concern. I showed him a photo I took. Both were fine. He told me when I should be concerned, and what to do if things changed. And thankfully, they didn’t change.

I am struck, however, by just how much the world has changed in 30 years.

I brought my first generation IBM PS1 to college in 1992. It was two years old. It had an 80286 processor and a 20mb hard drive. It was already an ancient relic, but my peers who marveled at it were also using machines that, today, are demonstrably silly.

The Internet of my college years was nothing like it is today. Search engines didn’t start blowing up till 1994.

Google wasn’t born till 1998. We actually had to go to the library and look things up.

And while I may have imagined as a kid in the ‘80s, that 2024 would be filled with robots, and flying cars, and been somewhat disappointed when they weren’t, the things we _can_ do now amaze me when I take the time to look around.

1. I’m amazed that I can make a few phone calls, and have a face to face meeting with a doctor in a few hours.
2. I’m amazed that I can text my wife all day long with things as weighty as test results, as trivial as cat videos, and as unexpected as cat test-result videos.
3. I’m amazed that I can Google anything and find something.
4. I’m amazed that I can Google me and find several things, and I’m still considering what I want to be when I grow up.
5. Of course, to whom much is given, much is required. One heartbreaking thing about internet culture is that increasing our reach does not necessarily open our minds. And it certainly doesn’t enlarge our hearts. And increasing our access to each other may not improve our relationships or community
6. Just because we see more doesn’t mean we will understand better. Just because we know more doesn’t mean we will do better. We more often use our access to barge into places we weren’t invited, and shout things we don’t know at people we don’t know about things we don’t understand.
7. New information doesn’t mean we are smarter. And getting smarter doesn’t fix our hearts.

Sometimes we just become more potent abusers.

We are loud-mouthed drunks with global access.

We are jerks with mikes.

Today I am grateful for access to information, and to people who know more than I do.

I am grateful for technology that amplifies my voice, and extends my reach.

And I am grateful that I have not used it to act on my first and worst impulses.

The old telephone slogan was “Reach out and touch someone.”

I pray the reach is judicious.

I pray the touch is consensual.

I pray the connection is a good one.

Be well.

Be wise.

And, if necessary, be quiet.

(Photo Credit: Shvetsa)