sheâd been reduced from the spirited person Iâd loved so much to someone barely recognizable: crippled on one side, needing aides to clean her, babbling about places from her childhood and people long dead. Was that my future too?
From that point forward, hypertension became my obsession. For weeks, I spent hours in the medical library reading everything I could about it. Hypertension is the prototypical disease when it comes to black health disparities. Itâs about 50 percent more common in black people than in whites, afflicting nearly two out of every five adults. It also strikes black people at a younger age, and blacks are less likely to have their blood pressure adequately controlled. Consequently, hypertension tends to run a more aggressive course in black people, increasing the risk of several other diseases that are also more common in blacks (e.g., stroke, kidney failure).
The reasons offered as to why black Americans suffer so severely from hypertension are as diverse as the fields represented. The psychologically oriented journals cite the stress of American racism. Evolutionary scientists theorize that among African slaves, the ones best able to retain water survived the harsh Atlantic journey, passing on their genes, which later proved problematic in the modern world. Public-health writers comment on the various inequities in our health care system and cultural differences in dietary and physical activity patterns.
Regardless of the cause, or causes, I wanted answers, a fix for my problem. Armed with data from several research studies, I set about changing my life. I started regular grocery shopping for the first time, being sure to eat fresh fruits and vegetables on a daily basis. I replaced soda with water. I supplemented basketball with running on a treadmill and stretching exercises. Within three months, my weight was unchanged, but my blood pressure had dropped to a normal 120/80. From then on, I knew it would be my blood pressure, and not my weight, that would define how healthy I was.
Later on in medical school when the time came to choose a research project, I jumped at the chance to work in a behavioral medicine lab led by Duke psychologist James Blumenthal that studied lifestyle-based approaches to treating hypertension and heart disease. There, I saw patients, both black and white, reduce their blood pressure through eating better, exercising more, and learning basic stress management techniques. This experience reinforced my own commitment to live a healthier lifestyle.
When I saw Pearl and Tina at the rural health clinic, I was not just another medical student seeing black patients with poorly controlled blood pressure. I stood before them face-to-face with my familyâs past and perhaps my own future.
Despite our similar health struggles, I quickly recognized the many advantages that I had over Tina, Pearl, and so many others. For starters, I understood the language of medicine. Terms like glomerular filtration rate, thiazide diuretics, and calcium channel blockers were part of my growing medical vocabulary. The patients at this clinic had limited formal education. Tina had a high school diploma; Pearl hadnât gotten past tenth grade.
At Duke, I had access to three campus gyms along with several nearby grocery stores and restaurants that served healthy items. Tina and Pearl were constrained by fewer exercise and healthy-food options where they lived. And while I had no money to my name, my social status as a medical student placed me in daily contact with physicians and other medical professionals who could help me navigate the best practices and expose me to the latest medical advances. Tina and Pearl were from families and communities cut off from these advantages.
A 2005 New York Times article vividly illustrates this dramatic influence of social class as it follows the journey of three New Yorkersâone rich, one middle class, and one working classâwho each
From that point forward, hypertension became my obsession. For weeks, I spent hours in the medical library reading everything I could about it. Hypertension is the prototypical disease when it comes to black health disparities. Itâs about 50 percent more common in black people than in whites, afflicting nearly two out of every five adults. It also strikes black people at a younger age, and blacks are less likely to have their blood pressure adequately controlled. Consequently, hypertension tends to run a more aggressive course in black people, increasing the risk of several other diseases that are also more common in blacks (e.g., stroke, kidney failure).
The reasons offered as to why black Americans suffer so severely from hypertension are as diverse as the fields represented. The psychologically oriented journals cite the stress of American racism. Evolutionary scientists theorize that among African slaves, the ones best able to retain water survived the harsh Atlantic journey, passing on their genes, which later proved problematic in the modern world. Public-health writers comment on the various inequities in our health care system and cultural differences in dietary and physical activity patterns.
Regardless of the cause, or causes, I wanted answers, a fix for my problem. Armed with data from several research studies, I set about changing my life. I started regular grocery shopping for the first time, being sure to eat fresh fruits and vegetables on a daily basis. I replaced soda with water. I supplemented basketball with running on a treadmill and stretching exercises. Within three months, my weight was unchanged, but my blood pressure had dropped to a normal 120/80. From then on, I knew it would be my blood pressure, and not my weight, that would define how healthy I was.
Later on in medical school when the time came to choose a research project, I jumped at the chance to work in a behavioral medicine lab led by Duke psychologist James Blumenthal that studied lifestyle-based approaches to treating hypertension and heart disease. There, I saw patients, both black and white, reduce their blood pressure through eating better, exercising more, and learning basic stress management techniques. This experience reinforced my own commitment to live a healthier lifestyle.
When I saw Pearl and Tina at the rural health clinic, I was not just another medical student seeing black patients with poorly controlled blood pressure. I stood before them face-to-face with my familyâs past and perhaps my own future.
Despite our similar health struggles, I quickly recognized the many advantages that I had over Tina, Pearl, and so many others. For starters, I understood the language of medicine. Terms like glomerular filtration rate, thiazide diuretics, and calcium channel blockers were part of my growing medical vocabulary. The patients at this clinic had limited formal education. Tina had a high school diploma; Pearl hadnât gotten past tenth grade.
At Duke, I had access to three campus gyms along with several nearby grocery stores and restaurants that served healthy items. Tina and Pearl were constrained by fewer exercise and healthy-food options where they lived. And while I had no money to my name, my social status as a medical student placed me in daily contact with physicians and other medical professionals who could help me navigate the best practices and expose me to the latest medical advances. Tina and Pearl were from families and communities cut off from these advantages.
A 2005 New York Times article vividly illustrates this dramatic influence of social class as it follows the journey of three New Yorkersâone rich, one middle class, and one working classâwho each
Similar Books
The Lion's Pride (BBW Paranormal Lion Shifter Romance) (The True Date Agency)
Terra Wolf, Olivia Arran
