'Fine. And how are you?'

Sometimes less is more, or at least more tasteful. Does the world really need to know your medical history?

By Sheila Stoll, Special to the Times
Published November 27, 2007

We were away from home for several months. When we got back, friends asked "How are you? Did you have a good summer?" What to say?

The fact is I was horribly sick during the summer. But nobody wants an "organ recital." So I say, "Fine. It was great."

"You've lost weight," they answer. "You look wonderful."

"Thanks," I merely say.

If I'm out at the local watering hole during Happy Hour, munching salty things, I don't want to explain to some friend that suffering from salmonella is not a good weight-loss program. So I skip it.

Yet I run into many people who take the question, "How are you?" as an earnest request for health information. I don't want to hear about every illness or injury suffered by my fellow Happy Hour patrons. Chats of that sort tend to take the "Happy" out of the situation.

I know a woman who turns up at a local place from time to time when I'm having lunch with friends. If we glimpse her approaching through the window, we pile all our stuff - purses, shopping bags, jackets, etc. - onto the empty chair at our table.

This is a woman who divorced her comatose, rich husband. Her conversational motto seems to be, "Enough about you: Let's talk about me."

She's rolling in money, goes through "boyfriends" with the speed of summer lightning but always has more troubles and ailments than anyone else in the Western world.

One day she turned up at the restaurant with a new hairdo. I foolishly commented on it.

"It's a wig," she replied. "I've been having chemo."

(Oops!)

"Do you have cancer?" I asked.

"No. It's precautionary."

Precautionary chemo? This woman apparently thinks I just fell off the turnip truck. She hovered over us for half an hour describing symptoms and regaling us with tales of pain and anguish. So much for lunch.

"Why are you on crutches?" one of my chums asked a mutual acquaintance.

"I just had hip replacement surgery. I'm doing fine."

Wonderful - end of story. We get on to books recently read or written. This friend wouldn't dream of detailing his ordeal. I love this man.

With close friends and family, of course I'm interested in their well-being. I'm glad they're interested in mine.

But it seems to me an unpleasant imposition to burden others with my aches and pains. If I feel that bad, I shouldn't go out anyway.

The older we get, the more we have legitimate ailments to complain about, but so do our friends. Do we want to spend all our time together itemizing all the things that plague us?

I'd rather spend my social hours talking about the tragedy of the monks in Burma or the drought in Georgia or Rudy Giuliani or the awful housing development going up on the corner . . . anything but aches and pains and fears in the night.

Where has politeness gone? Why would I want to know about someone's psoriasis or toenail fungus? Isn't there some old saw about what you don't talk about in "polite company"? Doesn't it extend beyond politics and religion?

If the opening greeting is, "How are you?" I don't want to hear about your rotator cuff. Instead, how 'bout those Red Sox? Did you know that Navajos believe that group singing can cure disease? What is Cheney smoking?

So, when somebody asks me, "How are you?" I currently answer, "We have a leak under our slab."

This slab leak is not a medical condition. Instead, it involves plumbers and construction decisions. The only pain is financial.

Everyone can sympathize with waiting for the plumber. I won't have to tempt anyone into over-sharing.

Sheila Stoll lives in Arizona. Write to her in care of LifeTimes, St. Petersburg Times, P.O. Box 1121, St. Petersburg, FL 33731.

[Last modified November 26, 2007, 15:07:56]