Working for a health mag is quite the opposite...

Working for a health magazine is not exactly the most reassuring of jobs, though you become knowledgeable with all sorts of information that you hope never to have to use. You become more absorbed, no, obsessed, with your body than you should.

Since Mind Your Body began, I've pictured my own demise more times than was sensible from the litany of horrors that we "educate" the public about. I've already died from metastatic cancer, heart failure, COPD, and become terribly debilitated by Crohn's disease, glaucoma and diabetes. I've felt all kinds of mysterious pains which signalled that I would soon die, and every unusual bodily emission has become associated with the most ominous symptoms.

Last week my middle region became palpably tender after we published a story about pancreatic cancer which carried the mournful message that it may not matter how diligently you exercise or how carefully you eat. One day you may still find yourself in a doctor's office doubled over with cramps while he tells you to set your affairs in order.

Of course we publish good stuff. We tell people about the best supplements to buy, the right things to eat, activities they can take up to get fit or de-stress. Somehow that kind of information pales in comparison...

I suppose I should be grateful for the advance warning -- the body IS distressingly mortal so you should be ready to shed the corporeal when the time comes. How one starts to do that, I haven't yet figured out, or I wouldn't be so preoccupied with whether my sinuses are just blocked or if a massive growth is impeding my breathing...