Pumping Irony

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

Monthly Archives: February 2012

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.

Experience Life Magazine

An Aging Rookie

It’s often said of rookies who have graduated from the college hardwood to NBA arenas that they have to wait for the game to “slow down” before they can feel comfortable with a basketball in their hands. The pros are simply bigger, stronger and quicker than anything these youngsters have experienced during their college years. The game is way more intense.

Rejoining my old b-ball buddies at the Anderson school gym the other night, I felt a little like one of those rookies — although I don’t think the game could slow down any more than it has over the past decade and still resemble basketball. Intense is not exactly the word I would use to describe what goes on here.

And I don’t think I have to tell you that is a good thing.

Some things haven’t changed: J.D. still runs the court like a madman, consistently scoring on fast-break layups; his brother, D.D. still has that little hook shot and a reliable mid-range jumper; and J.Y. (AKA Sleight-of-Hand) still can drive the lane for his patented scoop shot. It’s just all done now in slow-motion now; they’re all in their 50s, after all.

So I can’t say that my re-entry into “competitive” basketball was all that daunting. We did play full court, however, so there was plenty of running involved. And the opposing team featured a mix of twentysomethings along with a few greybeards, so there were flashes of athleticism to contend with. Plus, we didn’t have much in the way of reserves, so I ended up sitting down for only about 10 minutes during the two hours we had the court.

I think I did OK, though. Four of 12 from the field, a handful of assists, a handful of turnovers, an occasional rebound. But there was one moment early on that really made me wonder whether I belonged out there. I was posting up my defender down near the baseline, and when the pass came my way, I could hear my brain telling my arms to reach out to corral it, but my arms weren’t listening. The ball bounced harmlessly out of bounds and D.D. gave me a look that seemed to suggest that I save future indications of dementia for other venues.

At home later that night, I waited for my body to react to the punishment it had received. It didn’t take long. My knees, ankles and hips had begun a vigorous protest by the time I collapsed into bed, and for the next few days they continued to complain. Less than a week later, though, I felt pretty good (yoga and arnica work wonders) and a second round of hoops last week delivered less of a body blow than the first. My endurance has been fine, and the knees are holding up pretty well so far.

So I’m looking forward to getting after it again tomorrow night. I’m feeling less like a rookie already.