can
intellectually accept
the notion that they’ve worked long enough and saved a sufficient amount to remain comfortable. They can
feel
a sense of relief when they realize they no longer need an early alarm clock. Their reptilian brains tell them something else, though: things have slowed down—maybe too much. Many of them suddenly find themselves with much less to do—with much less movement in their lives—and the prospect is frightening. Some seek comfort and health-affirming movement in hobbies or organizations. Some plunge into hypochondria and depression, feeling that the lack of movement in their lives suggests that their health is failing. Others take the most active path to solving this problem: they unretire. A second career restores a sense of movement and therefore returns their sense of good health.
The Code also explains why the loss of movement is so devastating to us. Seniors will battle mightily to avoid life in a wheelchair, often struggling for years with a walker before acceding. Similarly, they will make every effort to retain their driver’s licenses, giving them up only when they prove to be a danger to themselves or others. Why? Because this loss of movement makes a very dramatic statement about one’s health, and this permanent change toward a less mobile state suggests that health will never return.
In other cultures, the concept of health takes on a different dimension. For the Chinese, health means being in harmony with nature. Chinese medicine has been around for five thousand years and has always taken into consideration the human being’s place in the natural world—curing illness using plants and herbs, astrology, and even the phases of the moon. The Chinese believe that they live in permanent connection with the natural elements and that good health is related to being at peace with nature.
The Japanese, on the other hand, see good health as an obligation. If you are healthy, you are committed to contributing to your culture, your community, and your family. The Japanese are obsessive about remaining healthy, and they feel a powerful sense of guilt if they fall ill. Unlike our culture, in which children will fake fevers (via the old thermometer-to-the-lamp trick) or stomachaches to get out of school, Japanese children will apologize to their parents for getting sick, for they know illness may cause them to fall behind. In this culture, you don’t just wash your hands to stay clean, but also out of a sense of duty to yourself as a servant of the culture and to prevent someone else from getting sick because of you.
DOCTORS , NURSES , AND THE MEAT GRINDER
The Code for health sheds interesting light on some related Codes. Doctors and nurses are charged with keeping us healthy. Given the strength of our reptilian instincts, it is unsurprising that we have very positive Codes for both.
The stories told during discovery sessions for the American Code for doctors projected images of rescue, of being saved from danger, of being spared a horrible fate. Most Americans were imprinted with the notion that doctors save lives and can recall a time when a doctor saved a family member, or maybe even a time when a doctor saved them personally. The Code for doctors in America is HERO .
Our feelings about nurses are even more positive. A recent Gallup poll identified nursing as the most ethical and honest profession in America for the fifth time in six years (it ranked second to firefighting in 2001, in the aftermath of 9/11). We perceive nurses as caretakers, as the professionals who spend more time with us when we are sick than our doctors do, and who
always
have our best interests at heart. Discovery stories included phrases such as “made me feel better,” “came in and sat with me,” and “I wanted to believe her.” Americans feel safe and loved with nurses at such a high level that there is really only one comparable relationship. The Code for nurse in America is MOTHER .
We think of
intellectually accept
the notion that they’ve worked long enough and saved a sufficient amount to remain comfortable. They can
feel
a sense of relief when they realize they no longer need an early alarm clock. Their reptilian brains tell them something else, though: things have slowed down—maybe too much. Many of them suddenly find themselves with much less to do—with much less movement in their lives—and the prospect is frightening. Some seek comfort and health-affirming movement in hobbies or organizations. Some plunge into hypochondria and depression, feeling that the lack of movement in their lives suggests that their health is failing. Others take the most active path to solving this problem: they unretire. A second career restores a sense of movement and therefore returns their sense of good health.
The Code also explains why the loss of movement is so devastating to us. Seniors will battle mightily to avoid life in a wheelchair, often struggling for years with a walker before acceding. Similarly, they will make every effort to retain their driver’s licenses, giving them up only when they prove to be a danger to themselves or others. Why? Because this loss of movement makes a very dramatic statement about one’s health, and this permanent change toward a less mobile state suggests that health will never return.
In other cultures, the concept of health takes on a different dimension. For the Chinese, health means being in harmony with nature. Chinese medicine has been around for five thousand years and has always taken into consideration the human being’s place in the natural world—curing illness using plants and herbs, astrology, and even the phases of the moon. The Chinese believe that they live in permanent connection with the natural elements and that good health is related to being at peace with nature.
The Japanese, on the other hand, see good health as an obligation. If you are healthy, you are committed to contributing to your culture, your community, and your family. The Japanese are obsessive about remaining healthy, and they feel a powerful sense of guilt if they fall ill. Unlike our culture, in which children will fake fevers (via the old thermometer-to-the-lamp trick) or stomachaches to get out of school, Japanese children will apologize to their parents for getting sick, for they know illness may cause them to fall behind. In this culture, you don’t just wash your hands to stay clean, but also out of a sense of duty to yourself as a servant of the culture and to prevent someone else from getting sick because of you.
DOCTORS , NURSES , AND THE MEAT GRINDER
The Code for health sheds interesting light on some related Codes. Doctors and nurses are charged with keeping us healthy. Given the strength of our reptilian instincts, it is unsurprising that we have very positive Codes for both.
The stories told during discovery sessions for the American Code for doctors projected images of rescue, of being saved from danger, of being spared a horrible fate. Most Americans were imprinted with the notion that doctors save lives and can recall a time when a doctor saved a family member, or maybe even a time when a doctor saved them personally. The Code for doctors in America is HERO .
Our feelings about nurses are even more positive. A recent Gallup poll identified nursing as the most ethical and honest profession in America for the fifth time in six years (it ranked second to firefighting in 2001, in the aftermath of 9/11). We perceive nurses as caretakers, as the professionals who spend more time with us when we are sick than our doctors do, and who
always
have our best interests at heart. Discovery stories included phrases such as “made me feel better,” “came in and sat with me,” and “I wanted to believe her.” Americans feel safe and loved with nurses at such a high level that there is really only one comparable relationship. The Code for nurse in America is MOTHER .
We think of
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