I’d like a cannibal to know, with one look, that I’m a tasty treat.
I’m not talking about being the first victim in a zombie apocalypse. Zombies have no discernment. And I’m not depressed. I’m not trying to manifest a tragic end.
In this scenario, man-eaters are vegetarians who know what it takes to cultivate and maintain healthy people. They know a community is better off, more productive, wealthier and happier when its members have care they need. They know there are lots of healthy ways to feed off one another.
I’d like someone to be able to measure my stress just by looking at me and to intervene with a plan to reduce cortisol and inflammation. I’d like someone to be able to tell if my arteries are hardening and suggest an exercise routine. I’d like someone to notice when I’m stiff or when tendonitis is flaring and know the exercises and stretches that will target the problem and make a lasting difference.
I’d like someone to be invested in my health because they know good health is a collective endeavor and a stranger’s health benefits them.
I know you’re thinking “vegetarian cannibal” is a stretch and maybe a ridiculous stretch. But if we use “health care system,” without a hint of irony, to describe the average person’s access to medical care, I can fantasize about a group of people with the muscle memory to cultivate health as a greater good.
And with health care in tatters, fantasy’s all I’ve got.
There are good people working in health care today — the doctors, practitioners, nurses and admins aren’t the ones who broke the system, and they’re stuck trying to hold it together. They worked through the fear and threat of the pandemic. They take on the stress of their patients and roll with whatever comes their way. (Who hasn’t seen signs in medical offices warning that verbal and physical abuse won’t be tolerated?) And with 15 or 20 minutes per patient, and how many patients they see a day, they’re exhausted.
I went for my annual physical and was asked all the questions they ask. Are you safe at home? Are you depressed, stressed, feeling anxiety? Do you need help? And when I said I’m safe and feeling balanced about life, my practitioner sighed, relieved, and said, “Thank goodness, because if you need therapy, I don’t have anywhere to send you.”
She explained that people call therapists listed on their insurance plans and nobody answers the phone. Traveling as far as Portland won’t make a difference. My doctor’s office is referring people to national, virtual therapists and services listed in Psychology Today.
But if you can afford it, or if your anguish is acute enough to make it a priority over every other thing, you can find help if you pay out of pocket. It will only cost about $300 per session for every session you need.
Hospitals are packed or can’t be packed because they don’t have the staff levels necessary to fill every bed. Emergency rooms are backed up, and if you do need to be admitted, well, back to that no-bed thing.
Pharmacies are scrambling for trained staff to support full operation, and let’s not talk about prescription prices. Or let’s. The cost of medicine, some lifesaving and inexpensive to make, is sky-high.
And many of the beleaguered professionals trying to do good in the medical field are carrying enormous student debt.
Who doesn’t have a fantasy about a better system?
It’s true my fantasies are extreme. I’d like Henry VIII entitlement without all the gout, extra pounds, chaos and dead spouses.
I’d like massage on command, so my muscles are supple, and every ache and adhesion is lovingly squeezed out of me. I’d like to have so much gentle intervention that I’d never have a tight back or need to scan a room for a chair and then size up my competition for that seat.
I’d like someone, in a classy, barely there way, to hold a sunshade over me on walks when I garden, go to the beach or play lawn games.
I’d like to be healthy and happy as I age so I can do all the things healthy, happy people do.
I’d like a team that believes public health is a greater good, and I’d like a functioning system to support them and all of us. I’d like to be cared for as if I’m being cultivated, because the tastier I am, the more I can contribute to my community.
I’d like to be lucky enough to have someone make and feed me all my favorite foods and to have ice cream work like a statin. I’m pleased to say, on this, I’m one out of two.
I have a partner who lovingly buys me frozen yogurt so I have a healthier snack. We start the day with stress-reducing “I love you’s” and he makes me iced tea, mashes heart-healthy avocado and puts my vitamins out so I remember to take them.
While I wait for public health-minded vegetarian cannibals to fix our health system, I count myself lucky for the caring people I have in my life. And if you see Roger, July is his birth month.
Please wish him happiness and good health.
