The wonderful thing about the know-it-all internet is that it has tons (quick: how many bits in a ton?) of information…sorry, data, about everything. The down side of that is that the information is kinda floating there in a space that has no context or filters. This is what led me to panic, almost literally running to my family doctor begging for a PSA test because I was convinced that cancer was eating my prostate (there’s irony in that statement, but it would be unpalatable to exploit it). When I finally saw my sawbones and presented my symptoms along with my internet-based hypothesis, he just shrugged and said ‘could be a lot things’ and ordered just about every blood/urine test in the book.
A few days later, his nurse calls to tell me I am diabetic, to cut down on starches and sugars. So, after making end-of-life plans with my family for 3 days, I am faced with the embarassing task of telling my wife that I’m going to live after all. She, of course, quickly hides her “Living life as a single mom” bookmarks and expresses what can only be interpreted as a “Crap! He’s gonna live…what do I do now?” expression. I say nothing…I had gotten used to the idea of eternal sleep since, I have to say, I’ve been sooooo exhausted lately. Apparently that’s a symptom.