The Day the Music Died

 Just a Spoonful of Sugar

Take two aspirins and Google whatever ails you.

There is certainly no shortage of medical advice to go around.

And by the way, all that singing and dancing about how “a spoonful of sugar helps the medicine go down” failed to mention that sugar may be part of the reason we need the medicine in the first place.

Mary Poppins never warned us about insulin resistance.

Let me clearly state that I am not qualified to give medical advice. My medical knowledge is like a kitchen sponge: It has absorbed random tidbits from everywhere, and occasionally I squeeze them back out whether anyone asked for them or not.

I have no medical training, nor have I ever played a doctor on television.

I have, however, watched television doctors. (I will never be a patient on Grey's Anatomy...you can die with hiccups on that show!)

I have watched YouTube health experts.

I have read health articles, studied supplement labels and, for a while, even followed the advice of Suzanne Somers. Yes, Chrissy from Three's Company!

Just like the Farrah Fawcett hairdo, however, one health plan may not work for everyone.

Goodness, that reference dates me. Perhaps I should have said the Jennifer Aniston hairstyle.

Wait—that dates me too.

Someone insert the name of a famous person from this century with an iconic hairdo!

Medical information was not always so easy to find. When I was young, most families had one thick medical reference book sitting on a shelf. It contained the basic details about illnesses, injuries and first aid.

That was it.

Medical knowledge frozen in time between two hard covers.

If your ailment wasn’t in the book, you either called your mother, rubbed something on it or waited to see if it fell off.

But not today!

A few years ago, I consulted Dr. Google about everything from a bump on the head to a rare disorder mentioned on a daytime talk show.

My goodness, I must have contracted a dozen diseases and syndromes during that period. According to my search results, a minor headache could mean I was dehydrated, stressed, tired—or had only six hours left to live.

There was rarely any middle ground.

Back in the good old days of online self-diagnosis, you could complete a medical questionnaire, print out the results and proudly carry them to your physician.

I am sure doctors loved that.

“Good news, Doc. I’ve already diagnosed myself. I just need you to confirm it, write the prescription and bill my insurance.”

Today, online doctoring has gone on steroids.

Dr. Artificial Intelligence—or Dr. A.I., for short—can review your symptoms, offer possible explanations, suggest questions for your doctor and shame you for the poor life choices that may have gotten you into this condition—all in one two-minute do-it-yourself session.

It is remarkably convenient.

It can also be remarkably frightening.

Self-diagnosis is a dangerous business. Dr. Google and Dr. A.I. do not examine you, know your complete history or always understand that when you typed “chest pain,” you might have meant heartburn after eating half a pepperoni pizza.

Online information can be helpful, but it cannot listen to your lungs, check your bloodwork or notice that you do not look quite right.

And self-help can lead us down some mighty strange paths.

I once had a hot flash while standing in a checkout line. The woman beside me solemnly vowed that eating yams and applying yam cream would solve my problem.

I did not know whether I was supposed to eat the yam and wear the cream or wear the yam and eat the cream.

Either way, I smiled, nodded and slowly backed away from the produce section.

Nutrition certainly matters to our health. So do exercise, sleep, stress and many other lifestyle choices. Yet the flood of advice can be overwhelming.

One expert tells me to take a vitamin.

Another recommends a supplement.

A third warns that the first two will ruin my liver, disrupt my hormones or cause me to grow a third eyebrow.

Somewhere out there is supposedly a magical combination of pills that will slow aging, restore my energy and clear the fog from my brain. If I ever discover it, I promise to let everyone know—right after I remember where I put it.

Researching our health is a worthwhile thing, but there is a reason physicians spend years in medical school. It may take a doctor more than a decade to become qualified, while it takes me approximately 45 seconds to enter my symptoms and decide I have a rare tropical disease from a country I have never been to.

To be fair, doing our own research sometimes helps us ask better questions.

When one of my twins was in the third grade, we were told he might need medication for problems with attention. During his brief time on the medicine, his personality and emotions changed dramatically.

I began researching—not on social media, but at the library, because that was where we went before the internet knew everything.

After discussing our concerns and making changes, we removed certain food dyes from his diet and added an omega-3 supplement. At the end of the school year, his teacher congratulated me because she assumed the attention medication was working. Success!

She did not know the little pill he was taking was fish oil.

That was our family’s experience, not a medical formula for every child. Children are different, diagnoses are complicated and medication decisions should be made carefully with qualified professionals.

The experience did teach me something important: We must be willing to advocate for ourselves and our families.

Being an advocate does not mean pretending to be the physician. It means asking questions, understanding why a medicine is being prescribed, checking possible interactions and seeking a second opinion when something does not seem right.

Years ago, a doctor prescribed medicine for me, but the pharmacy mistakenly gave me a barbiturate. It made me terribly sick. When I quickly returned to the doctor, he looked at those pills and had a fit.

That was not what he had prescribed.

Of course, this was back when prescriptions were handwritten in a mysterious language known only to doctors, pharmacists and perhaps ancient Egyptians.

I am surprised more of us were not harmed by a condition called scribble-itis.

Thankfully, electronic prescriptions have reduced that particular risk, but mistakes can still happen. It is wise to know what you are taking, why you are taking it and what the pill is supposed to look like.

Along life’s journey, I have collected a few health habits that seem far less controversial: Drink plenty of water. Eat real food more often than processed food. Cut back on sugar and refined carbohydrates. Walk. Lift some weights as you grow older. Sleep. Manage stress. Keep your appointments. And tell your doctor the truth—even about the cookies.

Especially about the cookies.

We should learn about our bodies. We should ask questions and participate in decisions about our care. We should never be afraid to request clarification or another professional opinion.

Or do like my dad, show up to doctor's visit, give limited symptom intel, see if the doctor can guess his disease. 

But research should help us communicate with our doctors—not convince us that we have become one.

So, take what you read online with a grain of salt.

Not too much salt, of course. Apparently, that is bad for you too.

And as for that spoonful of sugar?

Maybe just use half a spoon—or add some Monk fruit and call your doctor in the morning.