The Wisdom of Logic

Here’s a bold statement: I am not a doctor. However, like countless other people, I often play one on my computer, and why wouldn’t I when there is so much information available at my fingertips. Let’s be honest, there is too much information to sift through, getting lost in illnesses and diseases that may or may not be what is happening that sent me off on a quest to “know” why my body is behaving in the way that it is.

When I was first diagnosed with breast cancer nearly 21 years ago, the first thing my surgeon said to me was “please, do us both a favour and stay off the internet.” I smiled sheepishly because we both knew I’d already been down that rabbit hole and read all of the direst outcomes, working myself into unnecessary additional stress. I was reading less about treatments and side effects than I was about my particular staging outcomes and percentages and all the other statistics that were keeping me up at night. My brain had gone into overdrive trying to find data and information that would give me the most hope.

I’ve found myself these last few weeks wearing my invisible white lab coat, fingers tired from scrolling around the internet looking for the information to figure out what my body is trying to tell me. I’ve already seen the doctor. I’ve had one test that recommended another mammogram which I’m having in a few weeks, even though I’d just had one in January that came back “clear, no evidence of disease”. And once again the brain goes into overdrive. What is this? It looks like one thing but could be another. Days later I started another search, looking at images and trying to decipher if this or that might be at play.

This morning I shared a story of a 3-year-old who without giving something much thought, took an action that made sense to him. The logic of a 3-year-old who hasn’t the experience to know if what he did would work or not. That child didn’t need to “think” it through.  He didn’t spend time overthinking his plan. He wanted something to happen, and he just “did” what made sense to him. Not only did the story make me laugh, it also made me think.

I’ve spent weeks overthinking something that may turn out to be quite simple. It may also turn out to be quite serious. Like Schrodinger’s cat it could be one or the other and until there are more tests and a definitive answer I won’t know.

Logic, which I’ve been reminded of a number of times today, tells me that my first reaction to this situation – I had a fever, chills and aches, then a swelling and inflammation – was to say, “oh I have an infection.” But within minutes I remembered “I’ve had cancer” and the brain goes where it has been before and I began a frantic search of specific types of breast cancer.

image found on Instagram

Not wasting any time, I did the sensible thing - I saw my doctor who prescribed antibiotics and further testing to be sure what we could rule out and not rule out (and I liked that she said “we”, making me part of this process and not just a bystander which many physicians have a habit of doing). The antibiotics have worked but not completely so further investigation is still called for.

Last night I started thinking about this again (hard not to). I took a step back, out of my own way and looked at this logically. I reminded myself that my first thought had been practical and straightforward. It was the reaction that was most obvious, grounded in common sense.  It was the overthinking and allowing myself to be led into the mire of medical information that I am not qualified to interpret that had me questioning myself and filling my head with doubt.

Here’s what I know today. I will get through the next few weeks by keeping myself busy with other things and I have promised myself that I’ll stay away from internet searching. I’ll have the required test that will hopefully provide answers. That’s practical and logical.

Logic tells me that I will be given news by my doctor (a real, qualified physician). Logic also tells me that whatever that news is will be dealt with expediently.

And most importantly, no more overthinking. I will continue to recall the lesson that 3-year-old taught me – just take a step back and let it go.