The algorithm will see you now

     People are troublesome. And expensive. We've seen the steady exile of problematic, costly wetware, replaced with vastly more efficient — and a whole lot cheaper — computer programs. Out with telephone operators, in with phone loops. Out with cashiers, in with self-checkout kiosks.
     I get that. And go along, grudgingly. If I pulled into a gas station, and one way went to self-service pumps and the other to an attendant in a freshly starched uniform and peaked cap hustling out to pump the gas, wash my windows and give me a stick of Doublemint gum, I'd certainly opt for him. A few times. But if his gas cost 25 cents a gallon more, it wouldn't be long before I'd find myself guiltily edging into the self-service line, avoiding the attendant's gaze.
     How reluctant I was to use those self-checkouts, at first. As if it were stealing from the cashiers. Which of course it is. Then the grip loosens, and tradition tumbles into the abyss. Technology wins.
     Still, each time you encounter the shift anew, it's jarring. The past month I've been going through ... let's call it a medical crisis, for now. In September, I lost 10 pounds without trying. Then I was thirsty at night. Really thirsty. Up every hour, tongue glued to the roof of my mouth. My eyes were dry. I'd gulp a few Dixie cups of water, put in eyedrops, go back to bed.
     After the second night of this, my wife urged me to get a blood test. So I went to a Quest Diagnostics, the McDonald's of blood testing. I found myself in a crowded waiting room, but no attendant. People lined up in front of a computer terminal and entered their information, then sat down.
     This struck me as something new, the unattended waiting room — the next step with AI and Zoom medical exams. Someday you'll get your full checkup, be poked and prodded and weighed by robots, without ever seeing a living person. There was one at Quest: Every so often, a woman would open a door and bark someone's name. At least machines don't yell at you. Yet.
     Turns out my test wasn't in their system. My doctor's office was a few steps away — I hadn't gone there first due to an insurance conundrum impossible to express in words. So I walked over, planning to get my blood work order and return. But once in the comforting office of a doctor I've been seeing for 20 years, I decided to just get my blood drawn there.
     That evening I received a brisk email titled, "Test result available on Portal." Half the time I can't even log into these things but somehow managed. Checking your results can be fraught — I'm not a doctor, and interpreting raw data can be confusing and scary. I began on my "Comp Metabolic Panel" and didn't have to get far. Front and center, the first item was: "GLUCOSE 318" while the "REFERENCE RANGE" was "60 - 99 (mg/dL)."
     That was all too clear: My blood sugar was triple what it should be. Part of the advice Dr. Google gave was to proceed to a hospital immediately. "Do not delay."

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