Dr. Craig Bowron's dad was a blue-collar guy who worked on boilers at a couple of research centers in Illinois. Being around smart people who "couldn't fix a light bulb" gave Bowron's father a "healthy skepticism" about the well-educated. It also convinced his son — who became a physician — to make medicine more approachable and understandable.

In "Man Overboard! A Medical Lifeline for the Aging Male," the first-time author uses plain language and humor to knock down men's resistance to tracking their health — and maybe visiting a doctor once in a while.

Eye On St. Paul recently met with Bowron near his Macalester-Groveland home to talk about the confluence of medicine and writing in his life. This interview was edited for length.

Q: When did you start writing?

A: In undergrad. I took an honors English course. About a month into it, the instructor sat down and said, "I really like your writing, what's your major?" I told him pre-med, and he wanted me to think about writing. So, I did. It was a refreshing alternative to all my science classes.

I didn't know what a liberal arts education meant. But I know now — brain-training. You go from a class on particle physics to Chaucer.

Q: That sounds like two very different gears. Not many people can shift gears like that.

A: Oddly enough, from the very beginning I had one foot on each side. One foot in the arts, which was always my thing, and I kept going back and forth.

I grew up in a blue-collar family. My dad was a boilermaker. That's what he did for a living — boilers. He worked at two research centers. And he actually had a healthy skepticism about the educated. These guys are in high energy particle physics, and they don't know how to fix a light bulb.

If you want your work to be relevant, you have to be willing to explain it to people. Before someone gets their master's or PhD, you should make them give their dissertation in one minute to a bunch of seniors in high school. To me, it's always been an interest. How do you make complex information understandable to people, not just to convey it, but how do you make it interesting?

Q: Does the writing help your medicine?

A: You know, in some situations, people are more grateful for an explanation. Oftentimes, people want to understand. "Oh, so that's what's going on. That's why I feel this way. So that's the story of this last six months."

We think in stories.

Q: It allows you to be a medical interpreter?

A: Yeah. I didn't start really writing until I was in my residency [at Abbott Northwestern Hospital]. I found a lot of medical stuff threatening, over-serious. And I wanted to write stuff that was like medical information for the sixth grade.

Q: Are you a doctor who writes or are you a writer who doctors?

A: I joke that I might be a better writer than a physician. That's what my patients say. [laughs] Most of them don't know that I'm a writer.

Q: Do you have a medical specialty?

A: So, I'm trained in internal medicine. Primary care, adult medicine. I would be called an internist. That term is confusing a bit, because of the word intern. Interns have completed medical school [and] now are training.

Q: Where's your practice?

A: At Abbott. I'm a primary care doctor that only sees patients at Abbott.

Q: Tell me a little about your book.

A: It's called "Man Overboard!" It's a men's health book. The funny thing about writing a men's health book is it's not a great business because you're writing for an audience that doesn't like to read that stuff — men. So, from a pure marketing standpoint, there are a lot of [better] subjects. Part of the reason is I'm an aging man myself.

Q: How old are you?

A: Fifty-seven. I'm a pre-geezer. So as a pre-geezer, I age like everybody else. But in some ways, it's harder. Because as a physician, I have all these things in my head that things could be. It could be this, it could be that.

I take the medical profession very seriously, health science very seriously. But I think that people are tired of the Marcus Welby, overbearing edicts coming down from the mountain. I think there's something inherently funny about the aging male. We have this sort of invincibility gene.

Q: Why is it that guys are so doctor-averse?

A: I'm not a psychologist. We do a lot of joking about the differences between men and women — we joke about, men don't ask for directions. Men think they should be independent. They don't need anybody. I've got friends who say, "I can do it myself." Part of it I think was acculturated for them. My dad was: "Don't borrow anything!" And I was: "I use it once a year, why would I buy it?" So, there is this sort of emphasis on independence, of not needing help.

I feel like this too, sometimes. Like, I was fine until I went to the doctor.