Smart BloodPosted: March 2, 2012
I fear that the smartest part of my body these days is my blood. Increasingly it seems as if my blood knows more about me than I know about me. Some days I can’t even remember how old I am (and fortunately this is one of them) but my blood knows whether or not I have cancer.
The number of things they can test your blood for is in the bazillions. I thought for sure (as some of you may recall) that I’d had a heart attack last summer. It felt like a heart attack — not that I’d ever had one before, but if I had to guess what one felt like, I’d say that I was in the ballpark in terms of chest pain.
But they took a blood sample, and the entire emergency medical system huddled around my blood test result like it was a crystal ball. And what did my blood have to say about the situation? It proclaimed, “Nope, no heart attack.”
Some days my brain doesn’t know if I want chicken or steak for dinner, but my blood knows whether or not I have coronary artery disease. That’s just unbelievable to me. How could my blood still be operating at a Mensa level of smartness when my brain NEVER performed at that level? Minimally at least, why can’t the rest of me hang onto its prime like my blood is doing?
Even my muscles seem to be performing at a higher level than my brain upon occasion. I had to drive a manual transmission car recently and it had been thirty years probably since I’d driven one. Presto! Muscle memory kicked in and I drove it like a champ. But then I forgot where I put the keys when I arrived home. Muscle memory trumped brain memory.
But nothing trumps the blood, it seems. Your blood can know dire facts about you while the rest of your body is totally oblivious to the situation.
For example, you’d think you’d have a hint somewhere in some part of your body if you had dangerously high levels of bad cholesterol – even a wispy suspicion lurking in the deep tissue of your brain that occasionally whispered, “High cholesterol perhaps?”
But no, people are usually shocked to find out they have high cholesterol. And here their blood knew it the whole time but just didn’t tell them! Whatever your blood knows, it tends to keep to itself apparently.
I guess the consolation here is that not only is your blood smart – it also isn’t prone to mood swings. It’s pretty much on the path of righteousness and tells the truth as well as it can see it.
This is far different than how the rest of me operates. In the morning my brain tells me I’m a happy-go-lucky generous gal but sometimes by 3 in the afternoon it tells me I’m a cynical, suspicious bitch. What if my blood was that fickle? Hey lady, you’re as fit as a fiddle! NO YOU’RE NOT! YOU’VE GOT DIABETES!
Really, though, you can only appreciate how darned smart your blood is when you’re halfway2dead and you’re aware of how incrementally unsmart the rest of you is becoming. Did I or didn’t I lock the front door before I left the house? Hmmm, I don’t really know and I’m now 30 miles from home.
But young people don’t really understand the significance yet of having incredibly smart blood that maintains its smartness throughout the aging process. When I told my sons my revelation about just how darned smart your blood is, they looked at me like I was two wingflaps away from Planet Trixie.
But hey, I’ll take my smartness wherever I can find it these days. I just wish there was some way, however, that I could put my brain on bypass and hook it up directly to my blood. Then for once I really would be the smartest person in the room.
— Marci Crestani