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The meaning of life?

I was struck by a strange juxtaposition of readings this morning. First of all, I was reading a piece by Raymond Tallis (excellent, by the way, read it here!) where he quotes Professor John Gray, from the London School of Economics

For Gray the animal nature of man leads him to the chilling conclusion that ‘human life has no more meaning than the life of slime mould’. Man (whom he re-names Homo rapiens) ‘is only one of many species and not obviously worth preserving.’

Then I read Antonovsky’s definition of “coherence” –

We are coming to understand health not as the absence of disease, but rather as the process by which individuals maintain their sense of coherence (ie sense that life is comprehensible, manageable, and meaningful) and ability to function in the face of changes in themselves and their relationships with their environment

Well, what do you think? Do you think human life has no more meaning that a slime mould? Or do you find Antonovsky’s definition of a healthy life more appealing?

Frankly, and this is the thrust of Tallis’ argument I believe, attempts to dehumanise what it is to be human by excluding the rich reality of consciousness, is not only unappealing, even frightening, but it diminishes the potential for compassion, and, hence, the potential for a better world.

Does this bother you?

British GPs’ prescriptions for opioid painkillers have risen sixfold since 1991 to 1.4 billion a year, according to the National Treatment Agency for Substance Abuse. More than 500 million prescriptions a year are written for sedatives, sleeping pills and tranquillisers, and the prescribing of benzodiazepine tranquillisers for anxiety has also risen.

It bothers me.

These are colossal figures and they are very, very sad. Not only is level of prescribing unaffordable, but it is increasing – this is not sustainable health care! But more importantly, I feel, what about all the pain, sadness, anxiety, sleeplessness and so on which this prescribing is supposed to address? Shouldn’t we be developing and delivering health care (without drugs) which sustains health, which supports resilience and vitality, which helps people to cope with daily stresses, and shouldn’t we be getting a handle on what all this stress is about, and actually dealing with that? It seems our current social and economic system is well broken!

Probably one of the best ever examples of how its the photographer not the equipment which makes a great photo. Stunning shots in this little video, and a great story too. Watch it and be inspired!

 

november reflection

In my twelve monthly themes, November is the month of reflection. Why not take a moment to reflect on the year so far? Or even on TODAY so far??

This is one of the most inspiring, funny and moving TED talks I’ve seen so far.
Brene Brown’s qualitative research has led her to conclude that one of the most important issues for human beings is connections – we need to be connected, to belong, to love and be loved. This need for connections is the basis of our feelings of vulnerability, and that vulnerability can be the basis of feelings of shame, of feeling not good enough, not deserving of love or connections.
She found that well, “whole hearted” people, feel just as vulnerable as those who feel anxious or depressed by their vulnerability. The difference is in how they handle it. Many people choose to numb out these painful feelings, but in so doing, they numb out ALL their feelings. The whole hearted recognise vulnerability and painful feelings as part of reality. They acknowledge and accept them, but focus on personal authenticity…..anyway, check out this fabulous talk, enjoy it, and make up your own mind.

In a BMJ article about personal health budgets, the chair of the Royal College of General Practitioners in the UK, Clare Gerada, says

“Should we be spending taxpayers’ money in cash strapped systems on gardening or aromatherapy that may make people feel better, but for which there is no evidence that it actually makes them better?”

This statement is a great example of the power issue at work in the practice of Medicine. The issue of personal health budgets is about the extent to which patients should be given the power to decide about what health care they want to receive. Dr Gerada uses this term “actually makes them better” – what does that mean? If someone who is suffering from a chronic incurable disease (and which chronic diseases are “curable”?) presents with terrible pain, or incapacitating fatigue, or paralysing anxiety, then what exactly is the definition of “better” – is there a “real” better and a “pretend” better? Surely, only the person themselves can tell whether or not their suffering is less, and only the person and their friends and family can tell if that person is now living a “better” life?

This use of “actually” is typical of doctors who reduce illness to lesions. They are thinking about someone who has less pain, but has no change in their underlying pathology – their MS plaques for example. Is that a sensible way to think about illness and health care?

There is a struggle going on, and it’s a power struggle. There are “experts” who think they are the only people who know what is best for patients. I don’t agree with them. If you ignore what the patient is telling you, if you ignore the “evidence” of the person’s life, then you’ve lost the plot!

Patient centred care means putting the patient at the heart of the care – not ignoring them or dismissing their reports of what is helping because “the evidence” doesn’t agree with this patient’s experience.

Healing narratives

One of the main themes of this blog, and probably a core theme of my daily work as a holistic, integrative doctor, is the place of narrative in our lives.

I recently mentioned in another post that working with patients’ narratives was a part of what I and my colleagues do every day at the Centre for Integrative Care in Glasgow. A couple of readers have asked me to say more about that and I thought I’d pull together some thoughts into this post.

One of the first books I read which impressed me about the importance of stories in medical work, was Arthur Frank’s “The Wounded Storyteller”. In this book, which is the product of years of research, Frank claims that there are two very common types of story patients present to clinicians – “restitution” stories, and “chaos” stories. He proposed that we can think of these as two primary “genres” of story. The former is probably the commonest in biomedicine healthcare. It can be captured with the phrase “I’m broke, please fix me”. It’s an approach to illness and health which considers that disease is a dysfunction or lesion somewhere and that if the bit that’s wonky could just be fixed then all would be well. The latter is also very common, especially when there are a multitude of symptoms and the person has  become lost in the illness.

Frank proposes that a clinician’s job is to help patients turn these stories into “quest stories” – based on the principles of Joseph Campbell’s hero narrative.

The integrative journey from stuckness or chaos to flow and coherence emerges out of this creation of a new narrative.

Another reason to work with narratives is the human need for myth creation. We are meaning seeking creatures, and the myths, or universal stories, as Karen Campbell calls them, shape our lives. So it makes sense to understand which myths we’ve incorporated into our stories.

Shifting from the materialistic, reductionist myth to a soulful, heart-focused, holistic one, allows the creation of a much more positive story, one which brings hope, and which opens up the possibilities of a different future path.

A key component of the creation of a future with a more clear set of potentials is choice. William Glasser’s Choice Theory, turns our narratives on their heads, and focuses us on the verbs we use to describe our experience. What emerges is a much more autonomous, more powerful story – a shift from passivity to activity, from victim to autonomous individual, from zombie to hero.

But it’s not just the verbs in our stories which are important. It’s the metaphors too. The amazing work of Lakoff and Johnson demonstrates the embodied nature of metaphor, and in so doing gives us the opportunity to pick up on the metaphors we are using, including the bodily locations of our diseases or disorders, and gain a profound understanding of the meaning of our illness experiences.

I hope for stories of improvement as I work with patients, but the stories which excite me the most, are the ones of transformation. Yet again, this week, I’ve heard several such stories. That makes it a complete thrill and delight to be able to practice Medicine this way.

Telling a new story

Deric Bownds highlights the conclusions of an interesting book about psychological change – “Timothy Wilson’s new book “Redirect: The Surprising New Science of Psychological Change.”

The part which caught my eye was the conclusion –

Wilson uses the thought-provoking metaphor of “story editing” to describe the ingredient common to many of the successful interventions he reviews. They alter the narratives people tell themselves about their world and their place in it: Is it safe or threatening? Do I belong or not? Am I capable or not? During sensitive periods, people’s storytelling can be redirected and the change can build on itself over time. Amend the opening sentence of the story of your transition to college, or to a new job, and the arc of your story may be entirely different from what it would have been otherwise. This helps explain why seemingly simple interventions, such as writing about a traumatic experience, or volunteering for a humanitarian cause, improve health and well-being. They give people an organizing narrative that puts their lives in an optimistic context.

Well that’s certainly my experience. That’s the focus of our everyday work at the Centre for Integrative Care in Glasgow – helping people to write new narratives of their lives (or what I’ve described as helping people to become the heroes of their own stories)

Change

Autumn

At this time of year, I look out of my consulting room window and the sudden redness of the leaves on this tree catches my eye. It’s one of my personal markers of change.
Change is a certainty in life, but we often resist it.
I think we are all experiencing big changes in the world today. That can be scary, and one response is to cling even harder to how to things are, but clinging doesn’t help.
It’s better to embrace change. After all, not only is it impossible to prevent the leaves turning red, but in fact the change is beautiful. In fact, it puts me in touch with the cyclical phenomena of nature, of the rhythms of season and time.
Take a look again at the byline at the top of this blog – “becoming not being” – there’s a lot to be gained by tuning in to becoming….

Sometimes I wonder what the big idea is in modern medicine. It seems like its drugs. Drugs for symptoms. Drugs to “manage diseases”. Drugs for healthy people to “prevent diseases”. Drugs to make you happy. Drugs to help you cope. Is it any wonder that health care organisations throughout the world are creaking under the soaring costs of more and more and more drugs. “Evidence based medicine” hasn’t helped – it’s all about prioritising drugs.

So, when I saw this ad on the front page of the free newspaper lying on the train the other day, I thought……well, tell me, what do YOU think?