One of the dangers of getting older is that you acquire an
increasing number of ailments. Each of these contains intrinsic dangers, of
course, but there is one nasty side effect you can avoid if you make a strong
and determined effort: deciding that your
affliction is interesting.
It works like this. Your doctor encourages you to read about
your disease or condition so that you can “better manage your care.” A
reasonable approach, but a truly dangerous one. You’d be much smarter if you just
blindly followed her orders.
If you do step on the slippery slope and start to read about
whatever you have, you’ll likely soon find that your affliction is actually
quite fascinating. It has a number of variations and an array of treatments
with some recent, thought-provoking possibilities. And no one knows why people
in Borneo never get it.
But here comes the edge of the nightmare: it’s basic human nature that people who
acquire knowledge subsequently want to share it.
This creates scenarios, such as one at a cocktail party, where
you surprise a person who naively asks how you’re doing by announcing that you
have a problem. In doing so, you signal by your plucky, resilient half-smile that
you want to talk about it.
Since fleeing at this point is socially unacceptable, your
co-conversant will respond with something like “So what is gout, really?”
If you were paying attention to verbal cues, you’d realize
that the emotion in the other person’s “expression of interest” makes a grocery
checkout clerk’s “have a nice day” sound personal, heartfelt and sincere.
But you aren’t noticing
because you desperately want to share all your fascinating new knowledge.
At this point, it’s not necessarily too late. A crisp two
sentence explanation, followed by a “so how are you doing?” will walk you back from the face of the cliff.
Even a short paragraph, provided it’s sealed off with some
decisive change of topic, can be survivable. But the finality of the switch is
critical. If it isn’t definitive, you’ve
left your partner with a rhetorical gun in his back and conversation will have
to continue.
Unfortunately, most of us, having learned so much about a
complex topic, aren’t going to be content with a few sentences or a paragraph –
we’re going to unload with a speech of the kind that would have made Fidel
Castro proud.
Psychologists who’ve put in a lot of time at cocktail parties
(it’s tough work, but…) have observed that these variations on verbal discourse
always end in the same way: the one
receiving information reaches a critical mass of boredom/ dismay and suddenly empties
his or her glass with a chugging motion that would elicit cries of approval at
a fraternity party. This action is followed
by a panicked statement about needing a refill, and then an immediate blitzkrieg-like
assault on the bar.
Later, if you’re the keen observer you think you are, you’ll
notice that when you encounter this same person at future cocktail parties, he’ll
head straight for the bar and stay there, clinging to the rail while drinking
and conversing serially and manically with unwary seekers of refreshments.
See? You’ve just discovered that your affliction is
communicable – it causes alcoholism in others!
There is a solution to this particularly perverse version of
sharing knowledge. It has two stages, the first of which is optional.
Stage 1
Find some time and write out everything you know about your
affliction. Don’t omit anything but don’t repeat, either. Then read and edit a
few times. In almost all cases, boredom will quickly set in. You’ll wonder why
doctors can stand to specialize in this hopelessly uninteresting area.
This first stage is elective because some people don’t like
to write. But Stage 2 is obligatory, even for those who’ve already put in
serious time at the keyboard.
Stage 2
Get a little recording device (or use a computer, most of
which have voice recorders) and offer it everything you know about your
affliction as if you were talking to a hopelessly trapped person at a cocktail
party.
Then, listen to yourself go on and on -- at least three
times. Actually, this is better done with a cheap dictating device because,
when you throw it against the wall, you can choose to replace it or not. The computer
would be a substantially bigger issue.
I’d be remiss if I didn’t point out the potential for some
collateral damage here. If you’re one of those who chooses to write your
thoughts out, you may be pleased with the result. If so, you could be tempted
to edit, condense, and place the resulting text on a blog to share with
friends.
Take my word for it, you should avoid this path at all
costs.
