Pumping Irony

Craig Cox, EL’s managing editor, chronicles his adventures into the frightening world of middle-age exercise.

Experience Life Magazine

Maintain Your Brain

Every night before she heads to bed, My Lovely Wife brews a cup of tea, settles into her living room chair (usually with a cat on her lap) and attempts to solve the day’s Sudoku puzzle. It’s a ritual often recommended by experts as a way of promoting good brain health and avoiding dementia and Alzheimer’s in your later years.

Before Sudoku arrived on these shores, she cranked through the crossword each day, and before she discovered crosswords, I suspect she was staying up late solving those annoying hidden-word puzzles they used to print in our grade-school Scholastic magazines. She’s always enjoyed using her brain.

I’ll be the first to admit that MLW is brighter than I am, so it’s likely that all her late-night puzzling probably has had some impact on her mental acuity. But there’s good news for those of us whose brains aren’t always fully engaged: There’s still time to get your noggin into top shape.

According to a recent article inTrends in Cognitive Science, researchers at Umea University in Sweden suggest that what we do to promote brain health in old age has a larger impact than what we did earlier in life. “Although some memory functions do tend to decline as we get older, several elderly show well preserved functioning and this is related to a well-preserved, youth-like brain,” explains lead researcher Lars Nyberg.

The study counters the conventional approach to cognitive decline, which is to focus on understanding how the brain compensates for memory loss and the like. Nyberg and his colleagues suggest that elderly people can actually prevent such decline from occurring. “Some older adults show little or no brain changes relative to younger adults, along with intact cognitive performance, which supports the notion of brain maintenance,” he explains. “In other words, maintaining a youthful brain, rather than responding to and compensating for changes, may be the key to successful memory aging.”

And the best way to keep your brain firing on all cylinders as you age, says Nyberg, is to remain engaged in the world — socially, mentally and physically. “There is quite solid evidence that staying physically and mentally active is a way towards brain maintenance,” he says.

I’m not going to start puzzling over the Sudoku, and I never had the patience — or the vocabulary — for crossword puzzles, but it’s good to know that my daily workout, my challenging job, and even conversations with my brilliant wife might just be enough to keep my synapses firing a while longer.

Experience Life Magazine

A Healthy Awareness of Death

I recently celebrated what some might consider a rather morbid milestone: I’ve now lived longer than my father did.

I was 28 when he died of cancer. He’d lived for 60 years, seven months, and 11 days. I’m posting this at the ripe old age of 60 years, seven months and 23 days. Mission accomplished.

It’s only a number, I know, but it’s something that tends to stick in your head when a parent dies so young. You can’t help wondering about the genetics at work, the DNA you inherit that may or may not condemn you to an abbreviated lifespan. Every one of Dad’s brothers and sisters suffered from heart disease; he actually outlived a few of them. So you wonder if maybe you’ve been dealt the same hand.

But, as the Zen monk said moments after tumbling off the roof of the temple, “So far, so good.” My older brothers (68 and 65) are hanging in there, and I don’t seem to be doing too badly either. Still, I read the obits every day and am regularly reminded that folks trip over death’s doorstep when they least expect it. And I don’t think that ignoring that reality is particularly healthy — especially once you hit late middle age, or whatever it is we’re calling the 60s nowadays (70 is the new 40, I hear).

In fact, a recent meta-analysis of studies by researchers at the University of Missouri suggests that actively thinking about death is much more constructive than we’ve been led to believe. “There has been very little integrative understanding of how subtle, day-to-day, death awareness might be capable of motivating attitudes and behaviors that can minimize harm to oneself and others, and can promote well-being,” lead author Kenneth Vail said in this month’s edition of Personality and Social Psychology Review. “The dance with death can be a delicate but potentially elegant stride toward living the good life.”

Thinking about your demise, for instance, can make you more empathetic and compassionate. In one of the studies Vail and his colleagues reviewed, researchers found that people were 40 percent more likely to help someone in need when inside a cemetery than even a block away. Another study showed that “an increased awareness of death” led to more understanding and compassion between American and Iranian religious fundamentalists.

And, not surprisingly, other studies found that folks who were reminded of their mortality tended to take better care of their health. I think we all got that message after Dad died and, while each of us have taken different paths toward that goal, it’s something I’ll bet all of my siblings think about pretty much every day. I know I do.

That’s not a bad legacy left to us by a guy who left us too soon.

Experience Life Magazine

Healthy Connections

Friday night, I was downstairs watching the end of a hideous Timberwolves game and just beginning to think about turning in when I got a call from my friend M.E. He was heading over to a local watering hole with an old b-ball buddy, J.D., and wondered if I wanted to join them for a beverage.

Ordinarily, I would’ve demurred. It was late and I’m just not that sociable. But, for some reason, I pulled on a pair of shoes, grabbed my jacket and drove over to meet them. I settled into a booth alongside M.E. and spent the next hour or so in full conviviality mode: yakking away about sports and politics and who knows what else. When we parted ways, we vowed to get together again soon.

The next morning, I rose and climbed on my bike to meet a couple of other friends for breakfast at a popular diner across the river, where we spent a couple of pleasant hours chatting about everything from the history of local radio to the reconstruction of stained-glass windows.

This is all very much out of character for yours truly. My idea of a great Friday night is a nice dinner at home followed by a good book in my favorite chair, preferably with a cat curled up on my lap. It’s a sort of reclusiveness that seems to me to be fairly benign. I’m not agorophobic or anything. I do get out into society on a fairly regular basis. I’m just not very proactive when it comes to cultivating and nurturing my friendships.

And this could be a problem, according to a recent piece by Jane Brody in the New York Times. She points to research suggesting that people who have strong connections to others generally live longer than curmudgeonly hermits like myself. In one study she mentions, people lacking social ties were three times more likely to die during a nine-year period than those who spent time with family and friends. Another study, which surveyed 2,300 heart attack survivors, found that those with good social connections had a far lower risk of death than their more reclusive counterparts.

Brody, whose husband of 44 years died in 2010, admittedly faces more daunting challenges in this area than I do. My Lovely Wife is a constant source of conviviality in my life and a model “socialist” in her own right. And I have plenty of opportunities to engage with my various circles of friends. I just need to step it up a bit.

So, if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got a couple of calls to make.

Experience Life Magazine

I Hear Ya

I’m a great believer in the power of holistic medicine, alternative therapies like acupuncture, homeopathy and other approaches that treat the whole person rather than focusing on symptoms. But, I have to admit that sometimes conventional doctors really know what they’re doing.

For several weeks, I’ve been suffering from a frustrating loss of hearing. My ears felt plugged and nothing I tried would open them up. My acupuncturist stuck needles in them to no avail. The homeopathic remedy I took had no measurable effect. And I was beginning to think I would just have to go through life playing the annoying old man whose entire vocabulary revolves around the word, “Huh?”

Now, most people faced with this sort of problem would dial up their doctor and set up an appointment. No big deal. Let them figure out what’s up. But I’ve been of the opinion that Western medicine doesn’t have a lot of tools to offer besides pharmaceuticals and surgery, and I’m not keen on either one of those options. Something must be happening inside my body that’s causing me to lose my hearing, I figured. Some weird sinus congestion that’s causing some inflammation in my ear canal or maybe something connected to an overgrowth of candida albicans. These sorts of things defy Western medicine; they require a more subtle approach.

But at a certain point, even true believers like myself have to admit that the subtle approach isn’t working that well. So I eventually broke down and scheduled an appointment at a local clinic. I showed up in their waiting room on Friday afternoon with more than a little trepidation. After all, it’s been 14 years since I’d last set foot in a doctor’s office, and I didn’t really know what to expect. It felt like hostile territory.

Still, I signed the various forms and tried my best to reply to the questions posed by the receptionist without asking her to repeat herself too often. Then I took a seat and resigned myself to a long wait.

Only a few minutes had passed before a nurse called my name and led me into the doctor’s office, where she asked me several questions about my general health history (I’m still not sure whether one was “Do you use illegal drugs?” or “Have you used illegal drugs?” Either way, I figured, there was plausible deniability). Then she went off to find the doctor.

My physician turned out to be a nice young man of Indian descent who asked me several more questions before looking into my ears with his ear-o-scope, checking out my tonsils (still proudly in place) and feeling around under my jaw for some reason that I assumed was related to something glandular. Then he announced that Maria, the nurse, would clean my ears out.

“This procedure may cause some dizziness and pain,” he warned. “If so, just take some Tylenol and you should be fine.”

With that, he was gone, and I was left to ruminate on the various possible designs of a state-of-the-art ear-cleaning machine. Western medicine is highly attracted to large and complex technology, and I momentarily recalled the “artificial lungs” that were popular in my youth. I could imagine a large, but fashionably designed ear-cleaning helmet that might be lowered carefully over my head while a highly trained technician sitting behind a lead-lined wall flipped the switch that would send earwax-seeking neutrons on a search-and-destroy mission. It’s perfectly safe, as far as we know….

Before long, Nurse Maria returned with what appeared to be a quart-sized spray bottle connected to a narrow tube. The label on the bottle identified this piece of medical technology as “The Elephant Ear Wash.” It contained, according to Nurse Maria, “hydrosomethingorother in saline solution.” She repeated the doctor’s warning that this could make me dizzier than normal, instructed me to hold a small plastic receptacle beneath my right ear, stuck the tube into the useless organ and started pumping.

The solution flowed into my ear with a comforting whoosh sound and flowed back out with bits and pieces of wax in a sickly auburn-colored liquid that Nurse Maria deemed too “gross” for me to review. She went through a quart of the hydrosomethingorother, dabbed at the ear, and left to get a refill. I couldn’t tell if it had made any difference.

It wasn’t until she’d gone through another quart on my left ear that I began to notice a difference in the decibel level of the world. But it was subtle. I wasn’t completely sure until the doctor returned to check Nurse Maria’s work, consult his notes and turn to me with a grave look.

“Mr. Cox, you’re 60 years old,” he said, as if he’d just done the math.

“Yes,” I replied. “Yes I am.” My voice seemed slightly louder than I had remembered. I knew what was coming.

“There are some screenings we should . . .”

“Oh, I’m not really interested in those,” I piped in, hoping not to hurt his feelings. “I’ve done a lot of research and there are pros and cons.”

He smiled. “Yes, they’re a bit controversial.”

“Yeah. Really. I’m good. Thanks.”

“Would you like a tetanus shot?”

“Not really.”

He didn’t push it, and I didn’t deliver the lecture I’d prepared, complete with the results of randomized clinical studies and quotes from noted physicians. He shook my hand and told me a return visit would not be necessary.

I thanked him with what felt like genuine sincerity. Then I located Nurse Maria on my way back to the lobby and made a point to shake her hand. I was pretty sure I could hear again, but it wasn’t until I was back outside and pedaling my bike home that it really hit me. Springtime is really loud.

Experience Life Magazine

March Madness?

We’re having an unseasonably warm spell here in the Northland, and it’s really cutting into my TV viewing. Those of you who are basketball fans are no doubt aware that it’s tournament time. The top college teams are vying for a slot among the so-called Final Four, so there has basically been non-stop basketball on the tube for the past couple of weeks. This is like hoops nirvana for a guy like me, but I haven’t seen a single game.

Instead, I’ve been taking the dog for long walks, going on bike rides with My Lovely Wife and puttering around the yard like it’s the middle of June or something. I just can’t persuade myself to burrow into the TV room downstairs and ignore the most beautiful March of all time.

I feel like this is some weird anomaly (I love watching basketball) — and it probably is — but it’s also made me a little nostalgic for the March Madness of my youth. Back in the early ’60s, the NCAA tournament was small potatoes. It competed with the National Invitational Tournament for the top teams and got about as much coverage as the college World Series does today. Much more exciting for Minnesota basketball fans was the mid-March state high school basketball tournament. Back then, there were only eight teams — from large schools and small — and they played to full houses at Williams Arena for three days straight. The games were even televised!

My brother Gary used to take me to watch his high school team play (not out of any fondness for my company; a little grade-school kid attracted a lot of attention from the girls), and these players became my idols. Because I had actually seen them in action, I could mimic their play all winter in our basement, where I had nailed cardboard boxes on opposing walls for a full-court game. I eventually outgrew the low ceiling in the basement, though, and had to take my game outside — which was not always easy in March. One year, we shoveled a path out to the clothesline pole in the back yard, on which we had attached a makeshift backboard and hoop. We cleared the snow away and laid down a few large pieces of plywood and played until the air in the ball condensed from the cold and wouldn’t bounce any more. Another March, we put a hoop up on the inside of the garage. We had to shoot around the metal track that held the garage door mechanism, but at least there wasn’t any snow. We had to play.

I don’t feel the same urgency these days — whether it comes to watching the games or getting out on the court. I enjoy my Monday night games at Anderson gym (when my Achilles tendons aren’t killing me), but I’m just not as susceptible to March Madness as I was as a youth. Back then, I could dream of heroics on the court, play out those last-second buzzer-beaters all day long. Now I know my limitations. And I understand how fleeting a 70-degree day in March can be.

Still, as I was putting away some gardening tools yesterday, I happened to notice how my driveway and the alley combined to form a pretty nice space for a half-court game. All I would need is to attach a backboard and a hoop onto the garage and I could be out there working on my jump shot any time I felt the urge. Maybe coerce my son into a little one-on-one during one of his weekend visits, or reunite some of my old hoops buddies for a two-on-two tournament this summer.

Madness? I know. But it is March.

Experience Life Magazine

Can You Say ‘Healthy Brain’ in French?

Last spring, My Lovely Wife persuaded me to attend a community education class so we could learn to speak French together. The idea, as it was presented to me, was that it would be helpful for the next time we visit her sister, who lives in Brussels. With a bit of French, she reasoned, I wouldn’t have to always shrug and mumble “Je suis désolé; je suis Américain.” whenever someone asks us a question. Besides, we could treat it like a weekly date night.

I know that when MLW has her heart set on something it does nobody any good to debate the pros and cons (such as the fact that half of Belgium speaks Dutch), so I signed on and a few weeks later we bicycled over to Theodore Roosevelt High School for our first class.

My high school years, I should note, were not a particularly constructive chapter of my life, so I was not entirely comfortable as I took a seat toward the rear of the classroom. But our teacher, who was young enough to be our daughter, quickly put us all at ease. Slowly and methodically, we worked our way through the basics over the course of several weeks, and I found the entire process to be quite invigorating, so much so that we signed up again in the fall.

I’d like to say je parle Francais trés bien, but that would be a lie. At a party last winter, I found myself trapped in a tiny kitchen with a friend of a friend who, upon learning that MLW and I were taking French, smiled and rattled off a series of unintelligible questions in what I assumed was perfect French while I stood there, dumbfounded, unable even to spit out a feeble parlez plus lentement, s’il vouz plait.

But fluency is not really the point; it’s the effort that counts. The aging brain, like any other part of your body, needs regular exercise in order to stay healthy. And learning a new language is quite a workout. Researchers aren’t ready to say that such activities will necessarily delay the onset of dementia and Alzheimer’s, but it can’t hurt.

According to William Jagust, a professor of public health and neuroscience at the University of California, Berkeley, people who are more “cognitively active” throughout their life build more efficient brains. And these more efficient brains may generate fewer of the amyloid deposits that are associated with Alzheimer’s. “Older people seem to activate or bring on line brain areas that young people don’t use,” Jagust told the New York Times in a recent article. “They have to work their brains harder. So people who stay cognitively active may use their brains more efficiently.”

And learning a new language, while not easy for the aging brain, is one of the best-preserved skills as we grow older — especially if we’d learned a second language earlier in life. That’s because our brain tends to retain its ability to grasp new rules of syntax and grammar.

So I guess I should continue to slog through my French lessons as best I can — whether or not they will someday allow me to carry on a conversation. It’s like Monday night basketball: I’m never going to play as well as Kobe Bryant (who, coincidentally, speaks Italian and Spanish), but at least I’m getting a good workout. Oui?

Experience Life Magazine

My Achilles Heel

When I decided to get back on the basketball court a few weeks ago, my main concerns involved sprained ankles, blown-out knees, dislocated fingers and minor heart attacks. I had no idea that my Achilles tendons would capture so much of my attention.

Out on the court the last three Mondays, these tendons — which run from the heel behind the ankles up to the calves — have just been killing me. It doesn’t affect my ability to run and jump (such as it is), but any running and jumping is accompanied by a sharp pain just above my heels. And the pain lingers for three or four days afterwards.

It’s not the kind of pain that demands a trip to the ER or anything. I’m pretty accustomed to the delayed-onset muscle soreness that comes with strenuous exercise. But, I gotta say I’m a little worried about pushing it. I’ve heard about people rupturing their Achilles tendon, and it doesn’t sound like a pleasant experience: The tendon basically detaches from your heel and rolls up the back of your leg like a cheap window shade and leaves you writhing on the floor in what I assume to be great agony.

So, I’ve been doing a little homework on this condition in hopes that I can avoid that result, and what I’ve discovered is not particularly surprising: Tight calf muscles can lead to a tight Achilles tendon, which can lead to Achilles tendinosis, which is apparently what I’m suffering from. The remedy is relatively painless, though: a little rest, while stretching and strengthening the calf muscles. The experts here suggest taking a week off between bouts of tendon-challenging exercise — an easy remedy, given that I’m only playing hoops once a week — while stretching your calves for 20 minutes each day and doing some regular calf raises to shore up the muscles in there.

A little massage is not a bad thing, either. I don’t have a foam roller at home, so I grabbed the rolling pin from the kitchen this afternoon, eliciting a quizzical look from My Lovely Wife, who does all the baking around here. “That’s no way to get the cat off your desk,” she said.

“It’s for my calves,” I explained. That took a little while to sink in. I laid the wooden cylinder on the rug in our office and was just about to roll it up and down along my expectant calves, when I heard her say, “I use that on food, you know!”

I promised to wash the dog fur and whatever else it might pick up from my massage experiment and spent the next several minutes trying to iron out the kinks. I can’t say I could tell if it made any difference.

Massage is kind of like stretching, in that I’ve never aspired to master either discipline, but I’m thinking now that I’m going to have to start taking these maintenance techniques more seriously. My weekly yoga session is certainly helping on the stretching front, but I’m a real neophyte about this stuff. It’s never really been necessary.

I’m not that bright, but I’m beginning to figure out that aging is all about bumping up against the limitations of your body and mind. And each of us gets to decide on these occasions whether we’re going to give in or push through. Going for it usually means we’ve got to learn something new or do something that’s never been part of our repertoire — without knowing whether any of it will work to our advantage. So, I guess I’ll learn how to stretch these grumpy old calves and see if that doesn’t make my Achilles tendons happier.

The other option, after all, is to put away the basketball. And I’m not quite ready for that.

Experience Life Magazine

Playing the Lottery

The old colonoscopy debate was renewed again last week, when researchers at Memorial Sloan-Kettering Cancer Center in New York released a report claiming that the popular screening method (in which pre-cancerous polyps are removed from the colon) cut colorectal cancer–related deaths by 53 percent.

The results, according cancer researchers, prove that colonoscopies save lives. “This is a very big deal,” Robert Smith of the American Cancer Society told The New York Times.

This is good news to all of my buddies and brothers who have been encouraging me for the past decade to get into the gastroenterologist and get ‘scoped. I am, as I have noted in these pages, a skeptic about these sorts of invasive screening procedures, and that skepticism tends to confound folks who swear by its death-defying powers.

I am not in the least bit qualified to critique these sorts of studies, but I am struck by the numbers involved: For more than 20 years, researchers followed 2,602 people who had undergone colonoscopies during which pre-cancerous polyps were removed. Doctors estimate that 25.4 deaths from colorectal cancer should’ve been expected from this number of patients. Only 12 died, hence the 53 percent reduction in deaths.

So, if my math is correct, even if you were never screened, your chance of succumbing to colorectal cancer is slightly less than 1 in 100 (about the same as your chances of dying in a car accident). Getting screened and having polyps removed drives those odds down to a bit less than 1 in 200. As one oncologist told the Times, that’s a “very robust reduction.” But it’s all relative, isn’t it? If I currently have a 1-percent chance of dying from some disease and an expensive and somewhat risky procedure (the results of which depend greatly upon the skill of the doctor performing the procedure) may cut those odds down to .5 percent, is it worth it?

I know what you’re thinking: Yeah, if I’m one of those 12 who survived as a result, then it’s definitely worth it!

But what if you were told that two out of every 1,000 patients who undergo colonoscopies or sigmoidoscopies suffer major complications? That’s .2 percent. Pretty good odds, right? Yeah, I’m not going to be one of those two.

This is what Dr. Nortin Hadler refers to as the “Lottery Mindset” — the notion that, no matter what the odds, we’ve got a good chance of winning. This mindset tends to govern many of our decisions about health care as we age. “In America, the psychology of the lottery has been so well inculcated that it commonly makes sense to apply it to another challenging win-lose exercise: betting on our health,” Hadler writes in Rethinking Aging. “It drives the ‘I know the chance is slim, Doc, but let’s go for it’ response when we or our loved ones are sick. It also drives many other choices related to our health, including our willingness to undergo screening.”

For the record, Hadler is not opposed to colorectal screening for “high-risk” patients (those with a first-degree relative who developed colorectal cancer before age 50, and those with ulcerative colitis or Crohn’s colitis), but he’s not convinced that the screening is particularly effective. He cites a UK randomized controlled trial of 170,000 patients between the ages of 55 and 64 who underwent a one-time sigmoidoscopy from 1994 to 1999 and were followed ever since. “There may be a slight reduction in death from colon cancer; the Number Needed to Treat is calculated at nearly 500 [about .3 percent], but it’s far from a robust effect,” he writes.

Thankfully, we each get to determine how we’re going to respond to the health risks we encounter in middle age and beyond. So, if you’re persuaded by the latest research that a colonoscopy will offer you some peace of mind, then I say go for it. Whatever works.

I’m going to pass, though. I’ll try to eat right, get some exercise every day, keep my stress levels in check, stay positive, enjoy the moment. I’m not one to play the lottery, but I figure the odds are pretty good that I’m going to be around for a while.

Experience Life Magazine

I’m All Ears

For several weeks now, I’ve been having some trouble with my hearing. My right ear feels full of gunk and my left one, though more clear, occasionally goes out on me. My acupuncturist has stuck needles in them on several occasions, but to no avail. My personal diagnosis is that I’ve got some weird sinus congestion going on that has migrated to my ear canals, and I figure it will clear up eventually on its own. Probably in the spring.

My Lovely Wife has been putting up with my hearing loss for years now, a product of the cicadas (AKA tinnitus) that took up residence in my ears a few years ago, so she’s become accustomed to repeating herself when she has something meaningful to say — which is most of the time. But some of my colleagues at work think I ought to go get fitted for a hearing aid.

That sort of mechanical solution isn’t really my cup of tea, but the suggestion has got me thinking that maybe I ought to look more seriously at the issue. It is possible, after all, that it’s not going to clear up all by itself in the spring. Maybe I should actually go to a doctor and have it checked out.

This is uncharted territory for me. I haven’t seen a conventional doctor about some health issue since I blew out my knee in 1998. I figure my semi-monthly trip to the acupuncturist keeps all my qi properly aligned and eating right and exercising generally keep me pretty healthy. Except for these ears.

Dr. Needle has suggested on more than one occasion that my cicada problem is probably related to a candida problem, which could be ameliorated by a couple weeks or so without any sugar. Of any kind. No fruits, no bread, no alcohol, no dark chocolate — even if it is organic and fair-trade. And I’m prepared to accept the fact that she’s probably, maybe, plausibly, pretty much correct about this.

But giving up fruit with my yogurt in the morning, or toast with my egg — not to mention a glass of wine with dinner — is not a decision to make lightly. I know it’s only for a few weeks, and I know it won’t kill me, but still . . . . It would require a certain amount of buy-in from MLW (“Hey, wanna detox together?!?”), and the kind of Spartan commitment to purity that does not come naturally to either of us.

So, I mentioned all this to MLW, who, true to form, went right into research mode. She checked out a few detox Web sites that may or may not have been reputable and suggested that perhaps we try something other than an all-out, no-sugar-at-all detox regimen. For one thing, she couldn’t imagine that it would be a good thing to avoid fresh fruit for a month. We could certainly moderate our wine intake and stay away from all refined sugars. From there, she went to several homeopathic sites and spent a couple of hours grilling me about symptoms and drilling down into the materia medica. The result: she suggested that maybe a little Pulsatilla might be helpful.

So, maybe I’ll skip the doctor’s office and see if this approach makes a difference. If it works, it will just be another example of how good things happen when I listen to my wife.

Experience Life Magazine

How to Grow Old

I’m not the kind of guy who regularly visits the doctor, but if I were and if I lived in Chapel Hill, N.C., I’d look up Nortin Hadler, MD. Hadler is a professor of medicine and microbiology/immunology at the University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill and an attending rheumatologist at UNC Hospitals. He’s also the author, most recently, of Rethinking Aging: Growing Old and Living Well in an Overtreated Society (UNC Press, 2011), and one of the most provocative thinkers on the subject of aging and healthcare I’ve come across in a long time.

In Rethinking Aging, Hadler argues that the healthcare industry is essentially abusing aging Americans by medicalizing everyday ailments and forcing them into unnecessary procedures, ranging from mammograms and stents to statins and prostate screenings. “Aging, dying, and death are not diseases,” he writes. “Yet they are targets for the most egregious marketing, disease mongering, medicalization, and overtreatment.”

At the foundation of Hadler’s argument is his view that longevity is seldom enhanced by medical procedures. Take Crestor, for instance. The major clinical trial that AstraZeneca funded to prove the effectiveness of its popular statin drug showed that those who took the drug for a year reduced their risk of suffering a heart attack or stroke by less than 1 percent.

Hadler cites similar study results that argue against cardiovascular stents, oral hypoglycemics (to lower blood sugar), and hypertension treatments — three large and lucrative segments of the healthcare industry. And don’t even get him started on prostate and other screenings: “One never wants to be screened for anything unless the test is accurate, the disease is important, and we can do something of substance for you if you screen positive,” he writes.

There’s a big difference, Hadler notes, between screening and diagnostics. Screening is something doctors do despite the lack of symptoms; diagnostics occurs when you go to your doctor with some specific issues — like a bloody stool. A diagnostic test, in this and other cases, is much more likely to yield useful information. “The degree to which the screening misses the disease you care about and finds a disease you could care less about is the degree to which the screening is useless — or worse than useless if it requires further testing (like biopsies) to validate the result.”

Hadler says that screening is driven by the same “lottery mindset” that causes rational healthcare consumers to tell their doctors to “go for it” when the chances of some life-saving treatment succeeding is so slim as to be nonexistent. And he puts forth some hypothetical questions to help us make more rational decisions. Here’s how it goes:

• If a screening program has been shown to spare one person out of 2,000 from death from a type of cancer, would you do it?

• If it was painless and shown to have no negative side effects, would you do it?

• If the screening mistakenly led to treating five people who would not have died from that cancer, would you do it?

Put me in that position and my response would be: no, no, and no.

In the case of mammograms, Hadler cites a study that suggests that for every woman whose mammogram prevented her death from breast cancer as many as 10 others will be treated needlessly. In the case of prostate cancer screening, a randomized clinical trial involving 75,000 men showed a “relative risk reduction of 20 percent.” In other words, Hadler says, “if you screen 1,400 men for nine years, screening would cause you to treat 48 additional men for cancer but avert death from prostate cancer in only one of them.” In fact, Hadler notes, almost every man in his 60s already has prostate cancer, but in most cases it’s so slow to develop that it will never be the cause of his death.

And then there’s my old bugaboo: colorectal cancer. As I think I’ve mentioned in these pages before, I’m constantly being badgered by my brothers (and sometimes by my friends) about getting to the doctor to have a colonoscopy, because both of my parents had colon cancer. It’s a lovely sentiment, the way these folks care about my health, but this sort of screening is not as clean-cut as you might think. For one thing, the relative skillfulness of your endoscopist is important, and whether they locate polyps on the left or right side of the colon is similarly vital (those on the left are much more likely to be dangerous). Overall, however, studies have shown that colonoscopies are of less value than we’ve been told. “Any advantage to screening is likely to be quite small,” Hadler says. “Screening for colorectal cancer is running into the same block that stumbled mammography and PSA [prostate screening]. For the person at ‘average risk,’ these are very blunt screening instruments. They are very likely to find disease in people for whom the finding is irrelevant and not particularly good at finding the disease that threatens the individual’s life expectancy before it is too late.”

Hadler’s larger point is that most Americans can expect to live into their 80s, and there’s not much the healthcare/pharmaceutical industry can do to extend that — though that industry would very much prefer you to think so. And once in your 80s, you shouldn’t spend too much time or energy worrying about which of the many diseases occupying your body will ultimately do you in. (By 60, he notes, everyone has “significant atherosclerosis” and are harboring various cancers.) “It makes no sense to cure the diseases one will die with in the ninth decade,” he writes, “and little sense to cure the disease that one will die from in the ninth decade if another is to take its place in short order.”

At that point, he notes, it’s the quality of living and the quality of dying that should become paramount.

This all may seem quite a distance away for some of you at this point, but to my way of thinking this sort of approach to healthcare should inform everyone’s decisions — regardless of their age.

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