I wish it were as easy as a martini or glass of wine at the end of the work day. Or a cigar. Well, to chomp on for effect, even if you don’t inhale.
I wish it were as easy as a little shopping therapy, followed by a session of deep tissue massage to work the knotted muscles of the neck and upper back.
I wish it were so simple to undo the accumulated stresses of “hanging in” – whatever that may mean to you (or me) – the dating-go-round, marriage with its ups and downs, parenting through yet another challenging stage, managing to keep the boss happy another month, another down quarter, another year until your kids finish college.
But stress is more insidious. Hanging in is harder than we imagine. Our bodies rebel.
Dressed for success? Try stressed for success.
The problem is – we don’t feel very successful when we’re always working, always worrying, never feeling safe. Even a “win,” however we define it, is short-lived; we’re only as secure as our most current achievement. Last week’s accomplishment? It’s likely already forgotten.
Do I sound cynical? I’m not feeling cynical – only reflective.
Hey Sugar, What’s Up?
A friend of mine recently found out she has Type 2 diabetes. She joins 25 million other Americans with the disease. And while we could trace some of the culprits in her story to any number of tangible factors – the food she eats, a somewhat sedentary lifestyle – my interpretation is a bit broader. But more on that in a minute.
25 million.
It’s a staggering statistic, isn’t it? I’m thinking of my musing on the health issues of overweight and eating habits. I’m also thinking of the crazy way so many of us live.
Like me, my friend is an independent worker. Like me, her income is variable. Like me, she spends long hours at the computer, has little time for exercise, and juggles ongoing projects and work with a constant eye to generating leads, and acquiring new business.
It’s a lot to manage. It’s a great deal of pressure. I might also fall back on the only phrase I can think of next: It is what it is.
The Price of Food
Unlike me, my friend has less access to high quality, healthy, and affordable food – a matter of geographic location.
Over the past few years she’s put on weight. Working into the night or powering through a tough deadline, she grabs whatever is handy from the fridge or pantry and carries on – to get the job done – just like me.
Unlike me, my friend has no medical insurance. While I do, it costs a significant portion of my income, purchased as an individual, and in an age group where rates are very “unfriendly.” It also comes with hefty co-pays and deductibles, making the entire undertaking an extremely expensive arrangement.
But I’m afraid of being without medical insurance, even if it means a lopsided and challenging budget.
Lifestyle Change? How’s That?
When my friend sees a physician, she’s paying every dollar out of pocket for every service and test. Naturally, that adds to her financial stress. Hundreds of dollars disappear for something routine – often for a partial solution to an issue, or none at all.
Still, this disclosure of diabetes will prompt whatever lifestyle changes she can possibly make, within the very real constraints of her pocket book.
She made a comment to me following the diagnosis, which I had to jot down. In a nutshell, she captured her experience and my own, including her frustration that a lifestyle brought on by years of financial struggle has finally caught up with her. And her health.
She said:
We are all sick with controllable issues. We either can’t afford health care or can’t find decent health care. If we aren’t struggling from lack of money, we’re struggling from lack of good care.
Might I add – she’s been a single mother for many years, with a problematic child support situation, adding significantly to her financial strain. Enough said.
Is There a (Good) Doctor in the House?
I consider my own experiences with the medical establishment over the past two decades – the good, the bad, and the non-existent. I’ve had a few exceptional doctors in those years, but they were the exception.
More often, I’ve had Physicians Assistants or Nurse Practitioners who were both kind and pragmatic, but the physicians? The process? The absence of process?
Mostly, I resent the years of being passed from one generalist to another, one specialist to another, each time a co-pay, high-priced tests (only some covered by insurance), rarely a reliable solution, always the preference for the quick fix, and a gradual loss of faith in ever scoring adequate care. It’s been a crap shoot, and I’ve paid for it – in thousands of dollars out of pocket over recent years, in lost income, in lost quality of life, and at various points in time, lost hope.
I think about the pain – complications from an injury – that I’ve come to accept as “normal.”
Busy? Smiling? Dropping into Bed at Night?
I’m busy. I’m smiling. I like what I do most of the time. I feel lucky. At the moment.
But I also drop into bed at night, slip into sleep, and the race to get things done starts all over again upon waking. The worries, too. My friend? It’s the same story.
So smile-for-the-public aside, I worry for her, for my kids, and for myself. I’m angry at the loss of doctor-patient relationship, doctor-patient dialog, or even watching out for a neighbor who looks like he or she is struggling and needs a hand.
Our success-driven society?
That’s what I worry about most. The origins that are controllable, as my friend says, but in this case I’m talking about the human systems, the value systems, the greed we may have glorified in the 1980s which still ripples through our culture now.
I’m talking about pushing ourselves and our bodies to their limits for no good reason except that we’re caught on the merry-go-round and it isn’t very merry, but we can’t seem to jump off. I’m talking about that merry-go-round when it’s a matter of survival, not luxuries.
Is the damage worth it?
Stress Management – Can We Get Serious About Causes?
You may not feel it in your twenties or your thirties. But by your forties or your fifties?
Eventually, something gives. Or everything gives.
I think about a stranger on an airplane, and a few hours of a remarkable gift. I wonder what it would be like to feel that well again, for my friend to feel that well, for any of us to be able to seek health solutions that make sense in their early stages, or better yet, to live a lifestyle that is not bubbling over with stress – just to “hang in” – whatever that means to you.
No, I’m not cynical. I’m observing, I’m commenting, I’m recognizing that one event may lead to another, and another, and my friend’s story (like my own) is more complex than I’ve just related.
Of course.
I’m also recognizing that this is my world, though it may not be yours, and relative to others it is in a good place. But that place is fueled on a potentially toxic level of stress. Until something gives.
Someone, please pass me a cigar.
I have a PPO insurance plan which I pay tons of money for every month but I love my doctors and have had them for years. I make sure they know me from the beginning and it has worked for me. It is important (I worked for doctors for years) for them to know you and your patterns. I bring photos of my grandkids and they show me their kids or grandkids. I make visiting them a fun event and I know I get the best care because I make the effort to treat them as friends. I also challenge their ideas for my healthcare and as I age it is important for them to know the truth about you and your habits.
Madge, you sound fortunate. I also have a PPO, and while I’ve reduced benefits and upped co-pays and deductibles nearly every year, it also costs me “tons of money.” But I haven’t had continuous care, consistent care, or even “I care to care.” So, count your blessings! There’s no question that a good doctor-patient relationship is invaluable. You’re very lucky!
I feel sad today and reading this makes me even sadder. Because it’s true.
Everything you say – the choices we make – the society that forces our hand through the rubbish it pushes down our throats, the lack of care and respect for the land and its health giving benefits – the sick obsession with materialism and consumerism, the instant gratification … we have to turn the noise off.
What scares me the most is how we take care of the aged – if we, as young or middle aged, self aware adults cannot get the care and attention we need … for those who have little voice and strength to advocate for themselves, the world is a sad place indeed. The anger I have for the way my dying father was treated in a hospital that had too many patients and too few medical staff … I cannot begin to speak about it.
General doctors who have to meet revenues and practice expectations …
Watching family members suffer because they become a number.
Education is business, medicine is business, sickness is business, health is business.
It’s just business. Human kind is really losing the plot.
The only changes we can make is with our own personal choices each and every day until we run out of choice and are at the mercy of the business model of life in this world.
Stop the world I want to get off ….
Sorry for being such a downer but you got me started 🙂
We all need a hug.
I hear you, Vicki Lee. On every point. So much waste.
My husband’s work situation allows us access to a group PPO, but the monthly rate and our medical bills still astound me. Or, I should say, the variability of the bills astounds me. I spent a month in the hospital before my daughter was born and paid less for that month of continuous care than I did for a series of blood tests I had last month. How does that make sense?
And then there’s the issue of the quality of care that you bring up. I am extremely fortunate to have an OB/GYN who knows me well and understands the particularities and peculiarities of my situation. But my search for a primary care physician continues. I wonder if it’s too much to ask these days to have a genuine relationship with a family doctor. I envy Madge her situation; it gives me hope that it’s worth it to keep looking.
I think we take on stress until we fall over. You’re right, when we’re younger we shovel it on because our bodies can take it, but somewhere over the rainbow it’s harder to process internally. Our bodies scream, “we’re not going to take this anymore.” I sometimes wonder if my decision to write was what changed me and forced me to slow down and push back on stress. I still have a day job, kids in school, but now I make time for me, write, work out, and eat healthier than ever before. My body isn’t perfect, damn it, but I work at it hoping to keep the darker side at bay.
ah.
stress.
lavender bath salts, candles, weak tea, strong music and deep breathing.
attempting to unwind.
waving from manhattan.
hoping your life has less stress, day by day, dear D.
_tg xx
Thank you, tg.
🙂
Gosh, it’s so true. Eventually it all catches up to you. I watched my mother die from back taxes. It killed her. And it was so unnecessary. But once she hopped on the train she lost all control of where it was going.
In her final years, I often felt so angry. Angry at her for letting it all happen. Angry at the government for being so cruel. Angry at our healthcare system because my mother died from something that would have been easily prevented if she’d only had a $2,000 procedure a few years earlier. But she couldn’t pay for that because she didn’t have insurance.
And then I watched our stupid-ass government spend over $500,000 in vain trying to cure my mother from this illness. It would have been far, FAR cheaper to have forgiven her back taxes and given her a goddamned colonoscopy. Such a waste.
I’m still angry.
I believe stress was the cause of my father’s Lymphoma and eventual death. He was a very health-conscious man, but his life was filled with anxiety, anger, and uncertainty. In the end he knew he was looking at an old age filled with financial problems and deep-seated regret, which I believe killed him.
I’m more than grateful for my good health and the good health of my children. Some years I don’t hit my deductible, and that’s okay.
Right now I’m experiencing symptoms that I’m pretty sure I can self-diagnose. It will take a trip to the doctor and a week of medication and I’ll be fine. But I’m in the middle of a crunch at work, a document due that I’m working 12 hours a day on, and I throw some Tylenol down and hang in.
My company pays for a gym membership, and I took advantage of a trainer for a few sessions. His sales pitch for more training was sobering. He told me I’m at the age on which everything hinges. If I don’t get started with a good workout program now and stick to it, in a few years my ability to work out at all might be compromised.
I wanted to scoff that I wasn’t that old. But I am. I see retirement on the horizon, like an Oklahoma sunset. I am putting two kids through college before then, the last of whom will finish college the year I ostensibly retire. It’s there, in the back of my head, along with all the things I want to do— visit the Isle of Mann, Morocco, Cabo. Publish my novel. Live in a white farmhouse with a big porch. I see my father, who worked into his 80s because he really had to. I could only help him so much, there was no retirement fund, and yet in his effects when he died, I found a passport application.
I am at that age. And I am stressed about it. I need a lifestyle change. But.
What Madgew says is very smart. And when my body breakdown happens, I hope I know better than to check myself into a hospital.
Relentless.
Each work we do is relentless. The paid job, the unpaid work. To fit in healthful food, exercise, fulfilling work, family, house upkeep, and health is literally impossible unless you pay someone else to do most of that work.
And that’s why marketing tells us we just have to buy things to make it all easier. Buy a microwave and cook faster. Buy bubble bath and the day will relent. Buy a better mattress. Buy acai berries. Buy alcohol. Buy weight loss programs. Buy gadgets that make things faster and easier. Buy your way to a calm day that has 42 hours.
I don’t buy it.
The insurance system keeps doctors, patients, and politicians buckled into an untenable system. If insurance were non-profit, we’d see a whole different health care system in this country.
And the people who could change insurance are the ones who have enough money to buy a clean house, clean food, childcare, healthcare, exercise, and massages.
The rest us of us are stuck buying stress-relief gum.
Amen, to every word you just said, Naptime.
I say another Amen to Naptime. Makes me want to scream. I say I’m so sorry to Chloe and Sharon, and I say, “Yeah, that,” to Brenda in that I’m pushing back to and saying no to it (stress). I’m just not going to take it anymore. And I say a thank you shout out to you, DA – for the forum to say it all.
Such amazing responses to a post I understand all too well. I wish I could contribute more but the sadness I feel from reading this, the truth of it, is just overwhelming…
I was watching the news here in France last night–there was a segment about unemployment and a young woman was bitching about there was “no way” she was going to take the job that she was offered in the restaurant business because they were asking her to work 39 hours a week instead of 37. Girlfriend has no clue how lucky she has it. For now. But she will learn. Just like the rest of us.
I will just add that my Dad also died from the huge stress of a back tax problem–one that was not even his fault, a mistake. The weight of it crushed him and he had dedicated his whole life to making ours livable.
I left my corporate job and along with it, the stress of the commute and office politics that’s often worse than the stress of the job itself. But now I find new things to worry about, like money, now that I no longer have a paycheck and you know how epic that worry can be. When we were leaving our cushy income and benefits, I balked at the price of individual health insurance. As much as it hurts our bank account every month to make sure we’re covered, I couldn’t imagine living without it.
There’s just so much that hinges upon the money we make or don’t make that even though we try to be happy outside of our pocketbooks (a stroll in the park, an afternoon making cookies with the kids), it’s hard not to worry about our bills when we lay awake in the dark, hoping for sleep to find us.
I find your observations very interesting, Justine, and in a strange way – reassuring.
Money is one of those things that remains taboo to talk about in our society. Or rather, not having money – or worrying about how you’ll manage to afford X, Y or Z – including a few basics like health insurance.
I say reassuring because the process you are going through is eye-opening, isn’t it? There’s so much we take for granted (security-wise) until we leave a job or lose a job, and even with all the good things we may have in life, the money worries are a huge burden. Imagine not having the money for insurance, not being able to go to a doctor or dentist, choosing between the rent or mortgage and the doctor or dentist. It’s impossible for some to imagine. It’s everyday life – with worries – for millions.
I’m glad you stopped by to comment – and so honestly.
Comments can’t replace doctors or insurances but I honestly think that your friend – and you – truly _need_ to watch the Forks over Knives documentary. I am the farthest thing from a flowers-in-your-hair-hippie or a carrot-munching vegan hipster but I found that cutting out meat, dairy (and wheat) has helped me and my better half become healthier, fitter, and even get back to ideal weight.
And speaking of success and definitions thereof – have you checked out that Third Metric conference by HuffPo? What do you think?