I have blessed with a generally healthy life so far. I have always slept very easily and very well, have rarely suffered from unwelcome stress and until recently have enjoyed enviable blood pressure. Just now I have some health worries, and this period is reminding me of some valuable lessons.
Firstly, good health and ill health both tend to be self-reinforcing. It is hard to break out of a cycle of health concern, but when in especially good health we can seem almost to have superpowers. When I played golf as a teenager, I recall occasional periods when I could stride up to the ball, lazily ignore most of my pre-shot routine, and still be almost sure that the result would be really good. There were far more times when the opposite situation pertained: despite taking great care and utilising all the tips and tricks, I could still expect the ball to dribble along the ground or veer off into the bushes.
We can see the same effect when watching professional sports, sometimes ascribed to confidence or to momentum. Whatever the cause, good and bad outcomes tend to reinforce each other. It is the same with general health. I remember a few summers ago catching my leg while trying to run through a puddle, and how this innocuous injury seemed to set off a cycle of other problems that lasted for months. It stopped eventually, and I wonder if I am currently in a similar phase again. Part of the cure seems to be to slow everything down to avoid risks, but I can’t claim that to be any fun, nor even sure to work.
Next, a big part of ill health is usually linked to fear, which only emphasises how health is a whole body and mind phenomenon. My current symptoms are not more than inconvenient, but they have set off a cycle of fear because they may portend something worse. As with most medical situations, I expect a long process of medical visits and tests that may rule some things out but are more often inconclusive, which does little to reduce this fear.
This fear manifested itself during the pandemic. Some people became sick, others cared for people who were sick, but most of us simply became fearful of falling sick. As the information remained sparse and the rumours took hold, this fear would not go away, and it led us to become sick, in the head, even when not infected with Covid. Even that sickness persisted and self-reinforced, and in many cases lingers even now.
I believe this fear also helps to understand older people whose lives become consumed by medical worries. We all know of elderly friends or relatives whose entire conversation turns into a medical litany. I had previously put this down merely to an absence of much else happening in their lives, but now I believe the fear factor has something to do with it too. Much of life becomes a series of long chapters, many of them agonisingly slow to reach any sort of conclusion, as a referral leads to a lack of diagnosis and then a further test, while symptoms do not vanish but are amplified by worry. We would do well to listen to these stories and to provide comfort where we can.
This leads me to my next lesson. Love and care and kindness matter. Last week I explained my predicament to somebody who I don’t know very well, and yesterday she surprised me by calling to ask how I was doing. That simple act of kindness made me feel so much better. I really struggled during the week when my wife had to travel overseas recently, and a simple hug has been worth so much since her return.
When we volunteer at the old people’s home, our practical value is rather limited, but I believe our emotional value to be quite high. Many of the residents have physical pain as well as fear, and somebody listening to them, or perhaps distracting them with a story or trying to cheer them up with optimism, is no doubt an important service. The nuns who run the home do an incredible job of gently comforting the residents. When we fall sick ourselves we come to realise that, even if we don’t believe in God at all, knowing somebody is praying for us can serve to make us feel much better. I also recall attending a twelve step programme when I was at my most emotionally vulnerable a dozen years ago, and how the simple kind companionship of others was the element which did me the most good.
We could do well to understand the power of this human care when we are healthy and don’t really need it. Being kind to others makes us feel better too. But for sure the day will come, perhaps sooner than we think, when we will really need human kindness. People who divorce or fall out with their kids or tend to cycle through relationships often have valid reasons, and would never advocate suffering within a relationship. But close companionship can be the most important component of a route back to health, so we should do what we can to treasure and protect the companionship available to us.
It is good to read how medical science is advancing so quickly, and also to observe that mental and emotional health is increasingly seen as an integral part of complete human health. It has always been hard to stay healthy, but ugly politics in much of the world and the pandemic have left legacies of angry or bitter people disdainful for their own health and that of fellow citizens.
In New York, our leaders have identified this challenge, and that is the first step towards progress. But the road is long. De Blasio’s initiative undertaken with his wife was probably not given long enough to bear fruit. Eric Adams is right to point out the direct link to crime, and also the fact that societies have left a huge gap in mental health provision ever since we (thank goodness) closed down the asylums.
I believe my idea of payment for care, including within a family, would be a neat solution for much of this challenge, and it would give a necessary step up for gender equality, reducing ageism, and increasing respect for professional carers at the same time. Most of us would become kinder and more thoughtful, and that in itself would contribute to making us healthier.
Sadly, the political reality of the USA makes the chances of such a solution being implemented vanishingly small. In the UK, the new prime minister seems to have pinned her reputation to the mast of growth, via a model that seems discredited to me and to most commentators.
Payment for care would go a long way to restoring some healthy balance, but there are other dimensions to consider as well. Slowly, we should review how we all live. Solo urban apartment living makes sense for young people, but how can we design living spaces to create a sense of community for those that need it? A nuclear family works well for many, but perhaps alternatives would be better for some, especially as circumstances change. How can we design common spaces and mass transit to better cater for groups with different needs?
It surely does not help that virtually everything that is shouted at us via advertisement encourages us towards self-harm, whether through wasteful spending, unhealthy consumption, or relying on pills or supplements rather than more organic solutions to health.
Sometimes it takes an unpleasant jolt to alert us to ways we can improve, and I hope over time I can use this brush with fear of illness to good advantage. Of all the messages I can take so far, the value of strong relationships and of kindness stand out.
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