‘WHEN HEALTH MEANS WEALTH ’SPECIAL KAY’E
I’ve just moved for the second time in about as many years. First I fled London for Leeds and now I’ve moved from one suburb of Leeds to another. A friend (who thinks I’m completely mad) asked why I lived like a gypsy. I laughed, saying I found the excitement of moving into nice new properties irresistible. But if truth be told, both my recent moves were to pursue my peace of mind, sanity and general wellbeing. Long story, don’t ask.
One of Simon Mwendapole’s recent columns touched on the issue of longevity. Using words like ‘mortality’, ‘susceptibility’ and ‘invincibility’, the brother really got me thinking. It occurred to me that as African men, we could do well to take a closer look at the whole notion of ‘living well’ with HIV.
I believe many of us have an attitude to well-being in general, and health care in particular, vastly different to the attitudes of people born and raised in the UK. Not surprising, since hardly anywhere on our home continent is health care free or easily accessible. Hospitals and clinics exist in major cities and other urban areas - but cost lots of money. In rural areas, where many of us living in this country were born and raised, there are often no medical facilities at all. People have been known to travel for the best part of a day just to get medical attention.
Therefore, in general, (the usual exception being women during pregnancy and when caring for very young children) we don’t tend to go see the doctor to find out if everything’s all right. We only go when something’s wrong; when we feel we no longer have a choice. Indeed, for many of us, the very phrase ‘medical check-up’ is one still synonymous with affluence and wealth.
Even among those of us in possession of that most devastating piece of information, an HIV positive diagnosis, the situation often changes only slightly. Oh sure, those of us on medication might take the pills - hopefully when and as we’re supposed to - and attend consultant appointments with due diligence. But that’s usually where it ends. When it comes to the broader concept of healthy living, it would seem many of us simply can’t be bothered.
HIV organisations do their best to support us and many provide free complimentary therapies. But time and time again, we turn our noses up at the idea of going for a massage, for counselling, or for a reiki or acupuncture session. We don’t even care to give them a try, or find out from someone who has tried them, what the possible benefits could be.
Most of us work like dogs for a minimum wage, just so we can send some money back home for our children, parents, brothers, sisters, or cousins. I remember once asking a brother who was clearly too ill to work but continued anyway, what his family back home would do if he collapsed and died? Who would send them money then?
We give little thought either to the kind of food we eat, the amount of sleep or exercise we get, the long-term effects of smoking or the amount of alcohol we drink.
At the risk of sounding preachy, I want to take this opportunity to plead with my brethren to slow down for a minute and give some thought to their general health and well-being. Living with HIV is about much more than just popping pills. Stress, anxiety, obesity, exhaustion (mental and physical), smoking and excess alcohol consumption can have a detrimental effect on anyone. For us, they could make the difference between a long and healthy life and a short unhealthy one.
If you feel you could do with a break, please try and take one. Money isn’t everything. If you think you could eat a little better or drink a little less, give it a try. Look into complementary therapies and, who knows, you might find one really helpful. Taking regular exercise doesn’t mean becoming a gym bunny. As that popular supermarket advert says; every little helps.
And, if the house, area, town or city you’re living in is getting you down and you’re able to move, think about doing it. I did.
