Truthfully, Men Just Don’t Need Doctors

It’s a (very) commonly repeated factoid that men don’t go to see their doctors anything like as often as women see theirs.  I say “factoid,” but of course there are statistics.  I don’t know what they are, but I believe that they show pretty conclusively that women go to the doctor far more often.  What is perhaps less certain is why this might be the case.

There is the theory that women, through visiting regularly from a younger age, for gynaecological check-ups, contraception and the like, are just more used to the idea of seeing a doctor and therefore more likely to make an appointment when something troubles them.  There is another, possibly complementary, theory that men are just less willing to face up to the possibility of having an illnesses (and therefore the possible of being mortal), preferring to ignore their worries or procrastinate about seeing a professional.  These ideas are as well-worn as an old wives’ prescription of a daybreak application of dung as a cure for baldness.  And I think they’re about as much use too.

Here’s my theory.  It’s not about men’s fear or squeamishness –- and it’s not about them hiding from reality.  Men actually don’t need to go to see the doctor because they already know what’s wrong with them.  They like to think they have a rudimentary understanding of how their body works –- they may even have looked up a medical encyclopedia at one time or another –- and they certainly know what works best for them, whether it’s a scalding hot bath for suspected piles, or a treble scotch for those persistent, blinding headaches.  Men have considerable pride about knowing their physical condition — not about believing themselves to be in the very best of health, but about knowing exactly what’s wrong with them.  “Yes, I’ve had this lump on my neck since I was fifteen.  I think it’s a cyst.  No need to bother the doctor about it” or “Over-acidity runs in the family, I’m afraid.  My grandmother had a hiatus hernia, you know.”  This sort of self-diagnosis is a cornerstone of male independence — not having to go to someone else to find out the truth is what makes us men.  It’s just self-reliance, like finding our own way somewhere in the car when we’re lost, rather than asking a local for directions.

Contrast this pioneering spirit with the total reliance on others of women, who like to find pretty much everything out by talking to other people.  Why isn’t my boiler working?  How you get to Leverhulme Road from here?  What could this weeping rash on the soles of my feet be?  Women will ask someone else about just about anything.

So, there we are: men aren’t afraid of the doctor; we simply manage fine without one.  And anyway, just imagine if we did make an appointment every time we were ill.  It would be pandemonium.  For one thing, with all the flu we have over the winter, there wouldn’t be a single appointment left for women to toddle along with their latest symptom and have a nice chat and a read of the magazines while they wait, till Easter.

Contact the author here: thewhy@morningquickie.com