I went to the doctor the other day. It didn't end well. He ordered all kinds of blood tests, urine tests, EKG's, and chest x-rays. Then, his office left a message on my phone telling me to call them about the test results. It's never a good thing when the doctor wants you to call, and, also naturally, they left that message just before closing up shop on a Saturday, so my wife and I got to worry about the how of my impending doom until I could call on Monday morning.

That's when I got the news about needing to cut out salt, and sugar, which, quite honestly, I was expecting. In addition to my natural talent for self-destruction, trying to adjust to this semester's class and work schedule has led to a lot of late-night dinners of peanut butter-and-jelly sandwiches and chips. Okay, okay, I get it . . . I need to start eating like a grown-up.

Later that day, I got a call from my wife, who apparently expects me to at least try to live forever, freaking out because the doctor's office had left a message on the answering machine (yes, we're dinosaurs who still have a landline), that they had forgotten to mention another thing about my chest x-ray, and I needed to call them back, again.

Naturally, as a long-time smoker, my first thought was, "Well, that's it, I've got lung cancer." It was not a comforting thought. It was also, fortunately, a case of jumping to an inaccurate conclusion (thank God!). Nope, they just wanted to let me know that my heart is somewhat enlarged and that I really, really, really need to get my dietary shit together.

It was really kind of a bummer. In an admittedly shallow and inane way, it was worse than a cancer scare. After all, with cancer, it's mostly just a matter of accepting your mortality (I told you this reasoning was shallow and inane. I probably should have added just plain stupid), with this, I've actually got to make decisions, not the least of which is which doctor to believe.

On the one hand, I've got the doctor doctor, who is using all these tests and sciencey things that I don't understand, am not trained to understand, and frankly, just don't want to understand (I'm an English geek, not a science wonk), to tell me that having an enlarged heart, even a somewhat enlarged heart is a bad thing, and that I have to straighten up or I'm going to die. This doctor's information is backed up by not only all that sciencey stuff, but also by my own experience, through my own dad's premature death from a stroke, largely due to his refusal to admit he should stop working so hard, or so much (which is clearly the polar opposite of my problem, even if the prospective result is the same). If I listen to this doctor, I've got to make some fairly drastic, and permanent, changes in my life.

The problem is this; I like my life, just the way it is. Sure, it would be nice to be able to climb the stairs at school without needing to sit down and catch my breath, but let's face it, if it gets too bad, there's always the elevator. I like living on peanut-butter-and-jelly, pizza, and burgers. I hate exercising. I don't want to change. In my more shallow and selfish moments (and they are many), I feel I would much rather live on burgers and pizza, and live my way, by my own lights, for 10 more years, than spend 30 or 40 years pointlessly walking on a treadmill, eating vegetables.

It's also a matter of faith: I'm a Christian, and there is that passage about "whoever seeks to save his life will surely lose it." Granted, I could be accused of cherry-picking, and taking it out of context, but, in fairness, cherry-picking and taking Gospel out of context to serve a purely selfish and self-serving end seems to be a basic tenet of the faith these days (I do take comfort in the fact that my faith is in God's love and grace rather than my questionable understanding or behavior). It's the kind of Gospel interpretation that fatalistic, almost hopelessly self-destructive, putzes like myself find a kind of sick comfort in. The fact that we're aware of what we're doing doesn't make it any less comforting.

Besides, all that sciencey stuff is just made up to sell pills, right? It's all part of the plan to make us slaves to science, to make us believe in it, rather than God. It's just another example of man's hubris, and besides, we all know you can't trust doctors and scientists. We all know all those doctors and scientists are just witch doctors in lab coats. I mean you start out listening to your doctor, to save your life, and the next thing you know, they're using all that sciencey stuff to tell us that climate change is real. Once you start believing part of it, it becomes necessary to believe more and more of it. That's just the slippery slope of logic.

On the other hand, I've got another doctor, whose counsel is backed by all of my background, beliefs, and upbringing. A doctor who tells me what I want to believe. A doctor who I've loved from childhood, who tells me that having a heart even three times its normal size is not only okay, but a good thing. I mean, Dr. Seuss wouldn't lie to me would he?

Of course, I also have to face the possibility that I'm an idiot who isn't quite ready to die, which is how I came to be hiding out in my truck, having an apple and a banana for lunch, where no one would see. Do me a favor, and don't tell anyone.