I’m a believer in annual physical checkups, sometimes called “wellness exams.” I seem to be in a minority of adults in this country, and statistical studies suggest that annual visits to the doctor when you’re feeling fine may not be necessary, or even useful.
Statistics are fine, but my life’s experience and common sense tell me that an annual physical is a good idea when you reach middle age and essential when you get old. Not having any symptoms is a good sign, but it’s not foolproof.
Even so, I was apprehensive before the one scheduled for last month. The Pianist had warned me that nowadays the doctor asks you to draw a clock with the hands showing a certain time, and to remember three words. It’s called the “Mini-Cog,” a quick way to see if your cognitive skills are slipping.
I was ready for the clock question. I considered saying that I use a digital watch, but that isn’t true, as the doctor could easily see by looking at my wrist. Which of course she would do since this is an annual physical.
So, I practiced, just in my head. The long hand tells the minutes and the other hand points to the hour.
The physical began with the usual – vital signs OK, though blood pressure up a bit, probably due to my clock-drawing and word-remembering concerns. Then height. Not so good. I’ve shrunk another half-inch, down a full four inches from my high school JV basketball days, when I used to exaggerate by half an inch and claim 5-feet, 8-inches. Maybe this latest shrinkage is payback for my youthful embellishment.
Then to the usual routine, parts of which I needn’t include in this family newspaper. I ran through a few aches and pains, and then it came time to look into my parietal region.
Have you had to draw a picture of 10 after 10 on a clock lately? I went at it systematically, starting with a circle, then the numbers starting with 12, six, three and nine, then the ones in between, then the hands. I’m pleased to report that I got it right, at the same time demonstrating that I don’t draw very well.
Then came the three words.
When we were in high school, my friend Ray took the Dale Carnegie self-improvement course, which included a method for remembering a series of words in order. Ray explained it to me. When you hear each word, you associate it with a certain rhyming word. Word number one, run; word number two, zoo; three, tree; and so forth. It may sound weird, but it works.
The doctor gave me the words and then left the room for a few minutes. I repeated them in my head and then spent the recess checking emails. “It’s only three words,” I thought to myself. “Who needs Dale Carnegie?”
When the doctor came back and asked for the words, I confidently told her what they were, ending with “10.” Wrong. I got the first two, but not the third. “Ten” was from the clock-drawing, not the word-remembering. The doctor told me not to worry about it.
Here it is, several weeks later, and I can’t recall the first two words, but I now remember the third, “money.” If I had used my word-association trick during the test, I would likely have pictured dollar bills and coins hanging from a tree (rhymes with three), but instead I ended up with egg on my face.
The moral of this story is not to be a know-it-all when it comes to remembering three words. Speaking of eggs, they cost a lot of money these days.
Joseph D. Steinfield lives in Keene and Jaffrey. He can be reached at joe@joesteinfield.com.