Every pediatrician has seen this. A 14 year-old boy is sitting on the exam table, wrinkling the paper, staring at the floor like it owes him money. I ask, “Any questions or concerns today?”
“Nah.”
“Anything bothering you? Sleep, mood, sports, that weird rash you keep scratching?”
“I’m good.”
He is not good. His mom is sitting behind him, mouthing “ASK HIM ABOUT THE THING” like a hostage negotiator. Somewhere in that skull is a real question, maybe about acne, a knee that clicks, a growth spurt that hasn’t shown up, or something his friend told him that is definitely not true. But he will take it to his grave, which, statistically, is going to come about five years sooner than his sister’s.
That isn’t a guess. CDC data shows U.S. life expectancy in 2024 was 81.4 years for females and 76.5 years for males, a gap of 4.9 years. Nearly five years, gone, and plenty of it traces back to the moment a boy learns that “I’m good” is a full medical history.
The Grown-Up Version Is Worse
That shrugging 14 year-old grows into a 45 year-old who has had chest pressure for three weeks and has decided it’s “probably the tacos.”
A Cleveland Clinic national survey found that 72 percent of men would rather do household chores like cleaning the bathroom than go to the doctor. Read that again. Men, a group famous for not seeing the dirty toilet in front of them, would rather scrub it than talk to a physician. The same survey found that 77% of married or partnered men would rather go shopping with their partner than see the doctor, which is the clearest sign of desperation science has ever recorded.
It gets worse. According to Healthline’s coverage of the survey, 65 percent of men said they avoid the doctor as long as possible. And the ones who do show up aren’t always talking: Cleveland Clinic reported that 20 percent of men admitted they hadn’t been completely honest with their doctor, and 41 percent said they were told as children that men don’t complain about health issues.
There it is. “As children.” That’s my department.
So how do most grown men end up in a doctor’s office? They don’t book it. They’re delivered, usually by a wife, mother, daughter, or sister who has finally had enough of the coughing. The adult male physical is often less of an appointment and more of a hostage transfer.
“Men Die Sooner Because They Live With Women”
Every family reunion has an uncle with this joke: “Married men don’t actually live longer. It just feels longer.” Or the classic: “Men die first because they have to live with women.” Cue the laugh track and an elbow to the ribs from Aunt Linda.
Here’s the irony, Uncle Gary: the women are the reason you’re still alive. They made your colonoscopy appointment. They noticed the mole. They’re the ones who said, “You’re not driving yourself to urgent care with one eye swollen shut.”
To be fair to the guys, the gap isn’t only about stubbornness. Some of it is just the job. Men have always been handed the most dangerous work. Historically that meant war, since for most of human history “men’s health care” meant getting a shield and a pat on the back. Today it more often means roofing, logging, fishing, trucking, and construction. In 2024, men accounted for 4,657 of the 5,070 fatal work injuries in the U.S., about 92%. That’s real risk, and it deserves respect.
But let’s not pretend every early male death comes from heroic sacrifice. Some of it comes from sentences that start with “Hey, watch this.” Nobody gets a medal for jumping off a garage roof onto a trampoline. Nobody gets a flag folded at their funeral for lighting fireworks while holding them. Men fight wars, yes. Men also fight gravity, physics, and common sense, and keep losing.
My Secret Weapon: Homework
I can’t fix construction site safety or teenage boys’ fascination with propane. What I can do is go after the habit at the source, before “I’m good” sets like concrete.
So I give my male patients homework. At the end of the visit, I look the kid in the eye and say: “Your assignment for next time: come in with at least one question for me. About anything. Your body, your sleep, sports, food, your skin, something you saw online. One question. I’ll be checking.”
You’d think I’d assigned a 20 page paper on the Treaty of Westphalia. They groan. They roll their eyes. Mom smiles like she just won the lottery.
Then something nice happens. They come back with questions. Some are hilarious (“Can you actually get taller if you hang from a pull up bar?”). Some are surprisingly deep (“Is it normal to feel anxious before every game?”). Some are the important ones they’d never have brought up without a permission slip, like chest pain during practice, a lump that showed up out of nowhere, or a mood that’s been low for months.
The question itself matters less than the rep. Asking your doctor something is a skill, like free throws or parallel parking. If you never practice it, you’ll be awful at it at 50, when the stakes are a lot higher than acne.
Why This Works
It makes questions normal. Asking becomes part of the visit, not a confession of weakness.
It gives boys an excuse. “My doctor made me” is the perfect cover for a kid who’s dying to ask something but doesn’t want to look soft.
It builds a relationship. A boy who’s used to talking to his doctor at 12 is more likely to call one at 42 when his chest feels wrong.
It catches stuff early. Mental health concerns, sports injuries, testicular problems, and risky habits are much easier to deal with early than in the ER at 2 a.m.
Parents, Help Me Out
Moms, dads, and grandparents, you’re my co-teachers. Before the next visit, ask your son, “So what’s your question for the doctor?” Write it down in your phone if you have to. Don’t answer it for him. Let him say it out loud, even if he mumbles it to his shoes.
Also, maybe stop telling him to “walk it off.” Sometimes walking it off is fine. Sometimes “it” is a broken ankle.
The goal isn’t to raise boys who run to the doctor over every hangnail. It’s to raise men who know that speaking up about their health isn’t weak. It’s what keeps you around for your kids’ graduations, your grandkids’ birthdays, and many more years of Uncle Gary’s terrible jokes.
Homework’s due next visit. No extensions.
This article is for educational purposes only and isn’t a substitute for individualized medical advice. Talk with your child’s healthcare provider about any specific health concerns.