Categories
Emotion General Lifestyle Reflection

Loneliness: The Epidemic of the Modern Age

“God, but life is loneliness, despite all the opiates, despite the shrill tinsel gaiety of “parties” with no purpose, despite the false grinning faces we all wear .. Yes, there is joy, fulfillment and companionship – but the loneliness of the soul in its appalling self-consciousness is horrible and overpowering.”
– Sylvia Plath (1)

Who amongst us has not felt the hand of loneliness? The first breakup as a teen, the rejection letter lying on the kitchen table, children moving away for the first time, the little cracks in a marriage beginning to show. If loneliness is so widespread, so ‘normal,’ why do we need to talk about it? Aren’t we generally attracted to the more rare and wonderful aspects of life? Aspects like the documentation of  odd and wonderful medical conditions, the extremes of human behaviour that we can analyse with such voyeuristic enthusiasm. The topic of loneliness has instead been taken over by the arts; a subject for novelists and philosophers to dissect rather than scientists and clinicians.

Loneliness can be defined in a couple of different ways: emotional and social loneliness. Emotional loneliness occurs in the absence of an attachment figure, while social loneliness occurs in the absence of a social network. Emotional loneliness has been compared to a child’s feeling of distress when they feel abandoned by their parent, while social loneliness is the feeling of exclusion by a child whose friends have left. Thus, loneliness can be described either as a devoid outer world, or an empty inner world.

On the other hand, the cognitive approach suggests that loneliness stems from one’s social expectations not being met. Could it be that through our reliance on social media, our expectations for relationships have become exaggerated? As we scroll through our Facebook feeds, we become an outside observer to the fruitful lives around us; to parties we have missed, weddings we have declined. And so we draw a comparison to our own lives, thinking of ourselves as hollow shells in comparison to these roaring waves we see around us.

But what is the opposite of loneliness? Is it social connection? Is it the number of contacts we display on our phones? The number of parties we are invited to every month? Or the feeling we have of being valued? Is it being able to share a chuckle while watching a movie, reading a novel with a soft hand by your side, or simply being present in another’s life and being acknowledged?

Loneliness is different from solitude. Solitude can be an enlightening experience, leading to increased creativity and growth. Some of the best ideas have come through hours of sitting at an office desk, staring at a piece of paper. Just because more people in today’s society are living alone, does not mean that loneliness is on the rise. We must be careful not to mix these terms together. Loneliness is very different from solitude. Loneliness is the feeling of despair and alienation. It develops from the need for intimacy, and from the feeling of rejection when one fails to find it. It is described as a social pain; what is the equivalent of morphine for the pain of loneliness?

The power of loneliness can be illustrated through the effects of solitary confinement. It has been suggested that prisoners who have been through solitary confinement develop psychiatric disorders such as depression and anxiety, often turning to self-harm as a means of escape. Solitary confinement is described as a form of psychological torture, with one Florida teenager describing his experience as “the only thing left to do is go crazy.” Humans are social creatures. Without stimuli and control, is it any wonder that depression, hypersensitivity, and psychosis develop? This isn’t just an abstract concept that we are talking about, something for the philosophers to discuss at their round tables. It has implications with regards to disease, happiness, and relationships. It can be found in every aspect of our lives, in every infant and every adult – it is something that needs to be examined more closely through our microscopes.

“The most terrible poverty is loneliness, and the feeling of being unloved.” 
 Mother Teresa (2)

The topic of loneliness has fascinated novelists, poets, theologians, and philosophers, all attempting to give meaning to this beast. Yet psychoanalyst Shmuel Erlich suggested that the meaning of loneliness remains “an enigma” (3).

The concept of loneliness looks deep at the need for human connection. Through the rise of science and technology, a result on our emphasis on empirical modes of thought, we have gained considerable scientific knowledge and a whirlwind of medical technology. Yet what has happened to the conversation involving spirituality, social customs, and personal relationships? What has happened to the human perspective? Dig as deep as you like into the functions of the human body, the junctions between the cells and the DNA mutations – just remember that the knowledge that is discovered needs to be applied to a living, breathing human being. Can we quantify the despair of loneliness, the cracks of a thirty-year marriage, the grief of a mother who has lost her child? We may spend our lives pursuing wealth and status, but ultimately it is meaning that we all search for in the end.

Existential aloneness is necessarily a part of serious illness.”
– S. Kay Toombs (4)

How does it affect us as doctors?

As healthcare professionals, we are trained to be objective, to look at the statistics, and arm ourselves with the jargon of relative-risk and correlations. But walk into any hospital, and you will not see wards filled with numbers and graphs. You will see vulnerability, the eyes of loss, of angst and fear. You will see people tested to their limits, people whose lives are cracked and crumbling – people who have entered the threshold of loneliness.

Is loneliness a pathological condition? Intolerance for being alone was once a criterion for the diagnosis of Borderline Personality Disorder in DSM-III, while more recently, loneliness was found to increase risk of mortality by up to 26% (5). It can be argued that loneliness can have a purpose in our lives; it can form the path towards self-acceptance, growth and spiritual transcendence. The existential perspective goes so far as to say that loneliness is what it means to be human. It argues that through loneliness, one can begin to question one’s own existence, and thereby create meaning for oneself in a world that has lost all meaning. Western literature paints loneliness as a vital part of being human. It is seen as an obstacle one must climb through during the various experiences of life – through change, bereavement, love and loss. It has been argued that just as joy is made brighter through the experiences of sorrow, loneliness shines a light on the meaning of our life. Yet loneliness has also been linked to alcoholism, depression and suicidal ideation. At what point do we as healthcare professionals need to step in and help someone climb out from this abyss? Where do we draw the line between self-discovery and pathology?

Loneliness can also manifest itself through illness, both physical and mental. The feeling of a broken body, of being a burden on one’s family, can lead to helplessness. Roles that were once worn with pride are now cast aside: the mother, the carer, the provider. These can lead to a loss of self-identity and raise questions about how one can contribute to society. Ultimately, being ill can be an isolating experience, raising questions about one’s reasons for existence and the value of one’s life. As healthcare professionals, it is our duty to guide our patients through this journey. It is our responsibility to help them discover their own meaning for this loneliness, to help them affirm their identity. It is not always distraction or drugs that a patient needs, but an open conversation, which can help patients to gain new perceptions on what it means to be human. The role of the professional is not to provide answers or interpretations, but to listen, to share and to understand. It is a difficult task, filled with uncertainty and anxiety for both practitioner and patient, but it is also human.

We often cast aside people who are deemed lonely; they are the shy recluses, the self-pitying. We suggest that the cure for loneliness is simple: join clubs, create hobbies, meet new people.

By following such advice, we forget something vital: you do not have to be alone to be lonely. It is more than just being independent or respectful of others’ privacy; it is a feeling of distress. Loneliness illustrates our need for human intimacy. So where can we find this painkiller to drug us against such distress? Which specialist will take away our aches and pains? You do not need to be a trained medical professional to combat loneliness. Just remember, Hello is the most powerful word against loneliness.

As a final thought I want to leave you with this person’s experience of loneliness: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6-usOHfSQuA#t=23

To the one who set a second place at the table anyway.
To the one at the back of the empty bus.
To the ones who name each piece of stained glass projected on a white wall.
To anyone convinced that a monologue is a conversation with the past.
To the one who loses with the deck he marked.
To those who are destined to inherit the meek.
To us.

– Flood: Years of Solitude by Dionisio D. Martinez (6)

References

  1. Plath, S. 2002. The Unabridged Journals of Sylvia Plath. Anchor Books.
  2. Silouan, M. 2011. The Poverty of Loneliness [Online]. Available at: http://wonder.oca.org/2011/11/16/the-poverty-of-loneliness/ [Accessed: 8th January 2016]
  3. Erlich H. Shmuel, “On Loneliness, Narcissism, and Intimacy,” American Journal of Psychoanalysis58, no.2 (1998): 135-162.
  4. Toombs, S.K. 2008. The Meaning of Illness: A Phenomenological Account of the Different Perspectives of Physician and Patient. Springer.
  5. NHS Choices. 2015. Loneliness ‘increases risk of premature death’ [Online]. Available at: http://www.nhs.uk/news/2015/03March/Pages/Loneliness-increases-risk-of-premature-death.aspx [Accessed: 8th January 2016]
  6. Dionisio, D., Martinez. 1992. Flood: Years of Hope; Years of Solitude; Years of Reconciliation; Years of Fortune; Years of Judgment; Years of Vision; Years of Discourse. 22: 159-162

Featured image:
Maré vazia no mar de Wadden by Luis Estrela

Categories
Lifestyle Narrative Reflection

Latest Entry

The in-class assignment was simple: write a short paragraph of your thoughts about narrative medicine. But after ten minutes, my paper was a mess; pen lines angrily crossed out sentences that had been started but not finished, my usually neat penmanship was messy, my vocab unsure. My writing screamed hesitation. After begrudgingly turning in my assignment, I realized just how long it had been since I had written in my journal, which I had left tucked away in a nightstand in my childhood bedroom. I thought it was an appropriate place to leave the book—covered in cheesy flowers with a creased binding—that had chronicled my high school and college years. As I was packing for medical school, it seemed almost off-putting at the time to continue to chronicle the next chapter of my life—what I naively perceived to be the real challenges of medical school—on the same page as my previous entry, in which I complained about the trials and tribulations of learning how to drive stick shift and tackling organic chemistry. Instead, tucked away in my new bedroom, is a leather-bound journal, a gift I received for medical school, emblazoned with the words “FOLLOW YOUR DREAMS.” Every inch of it is covered in cartoon birds. It has been sitting in a drawer since I moved in, untouched.

As I juggle this new chapter as a busy first year med student, that seemingly simple assignment reminds me how much I miss, and clearly need, a nightly journaling routine as my outlet to find peace with my hurried thoughts at the end of a hectic day. It is all too easy to fall into the daily hustle and bustle of med school life such that every day seems almost like the one before. Study, extracurriculars, preceptorship, sleep. Lather, rinse, repeat. All too often, before I fall asleep, I find myself falling into the trap of using my phone to mindlessly relax; catching up on my Facebook newsfeed, scrolling through photos on Instagram—or, if we’re being totally honest here—catching up on celebrity gossip (let’s just say, I’ve definitely been keeping up with the Kardashians). But by the time I “unplug,” my brain is often wired. So much for unwinding.

Yet, even as I write this entry (yes, write, not type!), I understand how relaxing it is to unwind and take the time to process the day’s events with the written word. To really chronicle how every day is not like the one before, but how each day actually brings a new perspective as a result of what I had done that day: conversing with a new classmate, grasping the latest material in class, practicing the hands-on skills I’ve obtained in my preceptorship, etc. I see how important writing about these experiences is for me; to have something tangible to look back upon, years after medical school. To read through each chapter—to remember how I had stumbled when learning to measure blood pressure and take a patient history—just as I reflect now when I read back on my teenage struggles.

It’s important that we, as future physicians, find whatever it is that provides us with this sense of mindfulness, whether it be exercise, meditation, spirituality, etc., and hold on to it. It is through this self-awareness that we can see not only how we have changed, but even more importantly, to find a moment’s peace in the midst of the commotion that each day brings as we pursue careers in medicine.

So, when I go back to my childhood home to visit my family, I’ll be sure to pack up my journal.

Featured image:
12.2.2010 <homework> 321/365 by Phil Roeder

Categories
Clinical Narrative

Did you hear any zebras in there?

“Every child you encounter is a divine appointment.” – Wess Stafford

I made a new friend today. He was sitting on the floor organizing puzzle pieces. I took a seat beside him to take in his perspective. It had been awhile since I joined a patient on this level, but it set the tone of our relationship immediately.

I made a new friend who was excited to share with me. He looked over at me and asked if I wanted to help him sort. “It’s more fun down here, isn’t it? I can teach you where these go,” he offered.

I made a new friend whose favorite things about himself are his freckles, despite what the kids at school say about them. He winked at his mom as we continued to sort the puzzle pieces. “I think your best thing is your smile. It is almost like my mom’s!” he remarked.

I made a new friend who is stronger than most adults I have met. He pointed at a puzzle piece and told me that he has “been sick since he was as tiny as this puzzle piece.”

I realized my new friend just wanted someone to include him in his case. As he recounted his story with vigor, he nodded toward his mother and critiqued, “Usually people like you only want to know what she has to say.”

My new friend showed me the scar on his head and the one across his chest. “I am proud of them,” he stated. “Mom told me I am the superstar of the family… but I think she does more than I do.” He shrugged.

I made a new friend who saw me as an ally. I was amazed at how quickly he trusted me; after all of the doctors he had met before me. “I am not afraid of you,” he said. “Mom says that you want to help me feel better, and mom is always right.”

My new friend had many questions and I did my best to explain why we were meeting. He looked at me with trusting brown eyes and asked, “So are you going to listen to my insides with your special headphones?” I nodded and he held his shirt up for me.

I made a new friend who found humor in a hard situation. “Did you hear any zebras in there?” His eyes were wide with excitement as I put my stethoscope back around my neck.

My new friend challenged me to adapt my exam routine and inspired me to work on my creativity. I let him try my “headphones” out on me. “I think you have some monkeys in you! Let’s see what mom has!” he cheered.

I made a new friend whose heartbeat was weak, but whose heart was full of kindness. As he held the bottle of gummy vitamins above his head, he exclaimed, “These are way cooler than the pills my mom tries to hide in my applesauce! I am going to make you my favorite snack sometime. I won’t put anything bad in it, don’t worry.”

When it was time to say goodbye to my new friend, he gave me a big squeeze and told me he thought we would be good friends. “Next time I will feed the zebras before we come so you can hear them better!”

Featured image:
zebra by SigNote Cloud

Categories
Public Health Reflection

The Flint Water Crisis – The Physician’s Role

Flint, Michigan is a community of 100K residents, the majority of whom are African-American or of lower socioeconomic status. In the recent Democratic debate held in Flint, one mother spoke to the huge challenges that plague the community, including mold in classrooms, unqualified teachers, and the water crisis. In 2014, city officials decided to switch from the Detroit water supply, which gets fresh water from Lake Huron, to the Flint River, which has a long history of contamination, particularly with lead.

Flint residents knew of this contamination and saw brown water flowing in from their taps. They complained for years, long before the media hype, but city officials ignored their voices. Some residents noticed clumps of their hair falling out and an odd taste and smell to the water they were drinking.1

To investigate these claims, Dr. Mona Hanna-Attisha, a pediatrician at Hurley Medical Center and assistant professor at Michigan State University, conducted a city-wide study on the water in Flint. When she recognized that there were alarming levels of lead in the water, she alerted the Environmental Protection Agency (EPA).2 Only then did elected officials start taking residents’ complaints to heart.

Dr. Hanna-Attisha earned the Freedom of Expression Courage Award as well as the respect and gratitude of her patients and peers by speaking up. However, the brave doctor tells CNN in an interview that she was attacked viciously by the state of Michigan when she first presented her research and tried to warn officials of the ongoing crisis. She says she felt “physically ill”3 because of the backlash and professionally vulnerable because her reputation as a physician and researcher was at stake.

Despite the potential professional consequences, Dr. Hanna-Attisha fought for her patients and for the children of Flint, Michigan. In doing so she sent out an important message to physicians: sometimes we must be the voice of the people. It is our responsibility to fight for our patients, whether that means exposing a public health crisis, or more mundane daily tasks like calling health insurance agents to get a patient’s medication covered.

Flint is not the only city in the United States that is dealing with public health crises. However, this particular crisis and Dr. Hanna-Attisha’s role in bringing it to light serves as a reminder for all physicians and medical students: we are public servants and have an obligation to report public health issues in order to ensure the safety of our patients and the general population.

As the notable English physician Sir Henry Howarth Bashford once said, “After all we are merely servants of the public, in spite of our M.D.s and hospital appointments”. Let us not forget this role as we continue through medical school and enter into our practices.

Sources:
1http://www.motherjones.com/politics/2016/01/mother-exposed-flint-lead-contamination-water-crisis
2http://www.freep.com/story/news/local/michigan/flint-water-crisis/2016/01/30/flint-water-lead-health-qa/79475642/
3http://www.cnn.com/2016/01/21/health/flint-water-mona-hanna-attish/

Featured image:
The Flint River, August 2014 by George Thomas