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“Who of you by worrying can
add a single hour to his life?” – Luke 12:25
No one, and it’s just as
well. I’d rather the meek inherit the earth than the nervous.
Doctors have long
recognized a link between attitude and health. I was first warned
about the Type A personality 20 years ago while earning my degree in
accounting, a profession staffed largely by pinstriped pressure
cookers. Type As, students were told, were driven, forceful high
achievers, though unfortunately prone to heart attacks. Type Bs on
the other hand were serene, good-natured sorts who accomplished less
but lived longer. We were advised to seek balance, to work hard but
take time to stop and smell the quarterly reports, or something like
that.
Guess which type everyone wanted to
be. Grades are golden and go on your resume; a cardiac arrest
doesn’t and young people live forever anyway.
I never felt I fit either category, and
even the Type A wannabes didn’t slide neatly into that narrow box.
In recent years, however, doctors have identified a third
classification that suits many better.
“Type D” personalities are negative
thinkers who sweat the small stuff. They aren’t clinically
depressed and may not seem particularly anxious, but beneath the
surface they fear the glass is half empty, dirty, and holds polluted
water. Type Ds are reluctant to open up and vent their stress,
living like a soda bottle that’s been shaken hard: Cool on the
outside, fizzing with pressure on the inside.
A
Belgian study found Type Ds over four times more likely to
suffer heart disease than positive thinkers. Researchers at the
University of Washington noted that some test subjects felt
apprehensive even before they were placed in stressful situations,
which consisted of soaking their hands in cold water or reading text
printed in gaudy colors. Such strain, doctors say, can
impair the immune system and lead to health problems.
If I were designing a stress test I’m pretty sure I could dream up
something more aggravating than a bowl of ice water. I know it
would be inhuman to make someone visit the DMV or watch an Adam
Sandler movie, but anyone at risk for panic attacks from colored
type is too fragile to be of much use as a test subject.
I’d like researchers to get
out of the lab and observe real life. Scientists could wire up
parents helping their kids with algebra homework or chaperoning a
junior high school dance. They might follow subjects to job
interviews, though being escorted by doctors in white coats probably
wouldn’t help one’s chances of being hired. Heck, I’d be interested
in my own galvanic skin response while bathing a 12-pound pug that
seems to believe she’s a wolverine every time she hears running
water.
It is
thought to be
harder to change a Type D personality than to treat serious
psychological conditions like depression. A personality isn’t a
disease and can’t be approached like one, though I know allegedly
sane people who could have syndromes named after them. A change
might be good for the heart, but it’s tough enough to diet,
exercise, quit smoking and so forth without having to swap your
personality.
Yet people do change
following a traumatic event like a heart attack. There’s nothing
like a good coronary thrombosis to inspire one to eat more veggies,
take up Tae-Bo, and reconsider what is worth popping a blood vessel.
There’s an old joke about a mule driver who clubs the
beast with a two-by-four to get its attention. Maybe a heart attack
is a two-by-four of sorts, changing one’s focus when all else
fails. It might be easier said than done, but I think I’d rather
work on that verse about not worrying. |
