Health nuts?

Except for more wrinkles, Ruth appeared the same as she did some 10 years before. She was still hyper, had dyed henna hair and reeked of cigarette smoke. She was her old ebullient self — full of nervous energy, filling us in on all of her life’s details while she plowed through a hamburger, French fries, a large Coke and pie a la mode that followed two martinis. I was wondering if she always ate that way. When she shoved her empty plate aside and began rummaging through her purse, I thought she was looking for a cigarette to have ready when we left. Instead she withdrew a vial of dark liquid. She stared at me seriously. “See this? This is going to add years to my life.”

At first I thought she was kidding, but she unscrewed the cap and swallowed the contents in one gulp. “This,” she said, “is BHT in liquid form. Do you know what BHT is?” “Yes,” I replied. “It’s a preservative used by the food industry to keep the fresh appearance of some products like ready-to-eat cereal. I’ve read that it’s an additive to be avoided.”

“Oh, no!” In her zeal she clutched my arm. “This stuff will add years to your life. I read about it in a book called “Life Extension.” I get it shipped direct from Mexico. I can get it for you and if I get two more people to use it, I get a 30% discount.”

“No,” I recoiled when she took out the order form. “I equate that kind of thing with snake-oil. There are better ways to preserve your life. The American Heart Association says.”

“Oh, you don’t believe all that stuff about how smoking and what you eat can have anything to do with heart attacks, do you? Heck, my dad smoked all his life and lived until he was 80.”

I didn’t know what else to say, so I changed the subject. “How’s Hal?” “Oh, he’s much better now,” she said. “He had a triple bypass operation, you know. It was just after my gall bladder surgery. And guess what! They found he has diabetes, so now we take the same pills. Isn’t that a coincidence?”

I recalled her lunch fare. “Haven’t you been advised to change the way you eat?” She suddenly stood. “Well, I’ve got to go now. My appointment with an orthopedic surgeon is at 2 p.m. For some reason, the bones in my back are crumbling.” And off she went. After the door closed, Jane shook her head and said, “That’s Ruth. Hasn’t changed a bit.”

It’s depressing to see so much dysfunctional thinking wrapped up in one person. Ruth is an extreme example of how some people are so addicted to their self-destructive lifestyle that improvement is next to impossible. It is also an example of magical thinking and how such people refuse to look within as they naively and gullibly allow others to influence them.

Whatever has kept Ruth from growing and learning as she marches to her own drummer seems to afflict many Americans. It has prevented making needed progress in improving the health of our nation. It brings to mind how many of us in the Bay Area took it for granted that most people would vote for Proposition 29 that would have added a dollar to the price of each pack of cigarettes. But I guess we shouldn’t have been surprised that the cigarette tax didn’t pass since there are others like Ruth — addicted, in denial and/or gullible — even in California.

Again Ashleigh Brilliant comes to mind: “The help I need the most is help in admitting I need help.”

Since 1984, Dorothy Dimitre has written more than 1,000 columns for various local newspapers. Her email address is gramsd@aceweb.com.