My Father and Social Integration

My 83-year-old father has taught me a great deal in my life. My favorite lesson, however, will always be how to simply try to make people smile.

In May, my father experienced a heart attack. We were grateful that it happened while he was in San Diego rather than on the road  My father lives in Alabama but loves to drive all over the country to visit family. My brother refers to him as a modern-day Hobo. I think he prefers Nomad.

The last time Dad visited was in 2016 and he didn’t seem himself. He has a complex medical history wrought with cardiac issues so I pleaded with him to see a cardiologist prior to leaving. Easier said than done…I called several before finally finding one willing to examine him without his medical records. (Apparently, no one wants to see patients with 25-year old bypass grafts without a roadmap – no sense of adventure!) This MD was a saint. He not only examined my Dad but also managed to get him scheduled for a cardiac cath several days later. A cardiac cath that ended with him receiving a stent for one of his closed cardiac vessels. He was back on the road heading to Alabama a week later. You can’t keep a nomad down…or at least in one state.

Fast forward to May. Dad showed up at the house, took one drink of iced tea and began complaining of chest pain. I looked at the tea…what the heck did I make it with? I thought it was just Lipton!  “It may just be indigestion,” he commented. “Good”, I thought. Please let it be indigestion. A couple of antacids and he’ll feel better. And…no. He didn’t. Of course, I think I waited about 3 minutes before asking him.

“I think we need to get you to the ER to get checked out. How are you feeling now?”  He was still coherent and wasn’t showing a lot of distress but the minute he agreed that he needed to be seen, I called 911. My father is not a complainer. I practically had to drag him to the doctor last time. If he actually wanted to go, we were in trouble. Moments later, he was on his way to the ER via ambulance with us following close behind.

That day began a series of events that lead to two hospitalizations, numerous appointments and one overnight stay for a Watchman procedure. My father joked with the nurses, harassed the MD’s and basically kept everyone laughing at every turn. He only had one time when he was at a loss for words – the moment that he was surrounded by all male nurses – only to spend a few moments internally rewriting his routine to fit the gender difference and then started the banter again. He has made it clear that his purpose in life is to make everyone smile. It’s a mission…and he’s taken on some pretty irritable people…all who have broken down at some point and left a little lighter than they came in.

I recently watched a TED talk about predictors of long life. The top predictor listed was Social Integration. The definition used for Social Integration is that you talk to everyone – not just the people that you are close to but the guy who makes your coffee, the person walking by your house, and apparently in my Dad’s case, the nurses that are caring for him. After hearing the Ted Talk, it makes sense that my father’s continued enjoyment of life seems to help him overcome some of the medical issues that have plagued him. I obviously don’t think that is absolute since I have known other very happy people that have been overtaken by illness. In his case, however, it seems to help.

The other side to social integration is that we tend to communicate primarily by media currently. The video goes on to talk about how our brain chemistry responds very differently to actual social interchanges as opposed to social media. While interacting on Facebook, Instagram and Twitter can seem like we are communicating, we are still very isolated in our exchange. Sadly, I’m starting to believe that this isolation is contributing to our increasing numbers of people diagnosed with depression.

My father is in the hospital again, but now in Alabama. The only thing that will get him off the phone with me is if one of his nurses walks into the room. They have his rapt attention. He truly enjoys the interchange and they seem to truly enjoy having him as a patient.

My Dad’s mission in life is a pretty good one and as he tells me…it’s free. It doesn’t take money to make people smile. I need to take the lesson from him and start being cognizant of my own social integration. I’m pretty sure he’s going to outlive me at this point.