The post today included a stern letter from the University of Cambridge School of Clinical Medicine. They point out, correctly, that I have fallen six months behind schedule on cancer tests.
My excuse is that I’ve been busy. Though if I’m being honest the truth is that I have a superstitious belief that avoiding doctors is the easiest method to stay alive.
This irrational notion persists – and unfortunately, it feels good. I only grasp my profound stupidity after the tests, while waiting for results.
The journalists who have interviewed me here in the UK invariably ask about my medical status and I reply that I’m the healthiest person I know.
This is, mysteriously, true. Or not proven otherwise, at least.
The fact that I am at risk of developing another lethal disease is incidental to that fact so I never mention it.
Lots of people need to believe that I’m safe and well. Including me.