Has social media made passive aggressive idiots of us all?

Three incidents occurred this weekend to confirm my misgivings about the relative anonymity social media affords us when it comes to confrontation.

Once upon a time – and not that long ago – arguments were arguments and spats were spats and banter was banter and very often were a spectator sport, perhaps providing entertainment for some and/or uncomfortable moments for others, but remained within the four walls of any workplace.

Think about it, how unfunny would The Office have been had all those wonderfully real confrontations been carried out via email?

Suffice to say, we are all a little guilty of resorting to electronic communication (be it via text or email or other) in this world of high work output and little time.

But there is little to justify an outburst, a sneaky remark, a tirade or, indeed, a soliciting of support mid ‘falling out’ via any social media channel whilst we remain blessed with a voice, have the ability to travel to meet up with people and/or have access to a phone. 

Crouching behind the ‘safety net’ of social media or electronic communication, having vented in wild fury, then eagerly anticipating a reaction just as you press send or post, etc, is a terrible waste of energy – and not great for health and wellbeing, surely?

Equally, playing the cowardly game of ‘naming and shaming’ or displaying indirect anger in a 'cleverly worded' retort are akin to whispers behind backs and both display a level of passive aggressive behaviour that warrants some serious counselling.

Ranting emails, ‘poor me’ posts and sarcastic comments only fuel an increasing ineptitude in the communication skills of a nation whose eyes are already melted to laptop screens and whose noses are simple extensions of mobiles.

Expressing pent-up fury via social media is no more clever than wearing only a sandwich board whilst naked, shouting random abusive words to nobody in particular and walking along your local high street because, invariably, it’s THAT moment, THAT rant, and THAT image of you (especially if broadcast to an non selected audience) for which you'll be remembered. The best way to air any grievance is in a face-to-face discussion and not in a war of the written word.

The person who gets my vote is the one who says it and says it out loud and there are very few people among us who possess this talent and honesty – and us Brits are particular failures here.

Made from 50% Italian genes, my husband and his bold communication skills nail it every time. I frequently shudder at his 'neck', frank exchanges and audacia when dealing with ‘tricky’ customers and unreasonable people, but he is happy to confront, happy to say it how it is, happy to move on – and is happy. Oh, and he doesn’t ‘do’ social media’.

Three pieces of sound advice I’ve picked up along the way…

1.     Never put anything in writing you may regret.

2.     If you have something to say, say it loud.

3.     It’s no good moaning to others if you’re unhappy with someone. Speak to them!

‘Healthy, happy people are those who confront the facts of their lives directly’ – Brian Tracy. Well, you can’t argue with that… but, if you should wish to, don't email.

Get on your bike to lose weight, Brits told

Switching from driving to work to cycling, walking or even using public transport might help commuters shed weight within a couple of years.

That's the verdict of new research published online in the Journal of Epidemiology & Community Health.

Given that car use is high, the findings strengthen the case for incentivising walking or cycling to boost population health, suggest the researchers.

They base their findings on the responses of 4,000 people to three waves of the British Household Panel Survey (BHPS) in 2004-5, 2005-6, and 2006-7.

The BHPS is a long-term annual study of a representative sample of adult Britons which began in 1991-2.

At each time point, respondents described their usual main mode of transport for their daily commute, and provided details of their height and weight (BMI) in 2004-5 and in 2006-7.

The researchers used a series of analyses to see if changes in mode of transport were linked to changes in weight over a two year period.

In the first analysis (that included 3,269 respondents) 179 people had stopped driving to work and were either walking or cycling (109) or taking public transport (70).

The ‘switchers’ tended to be younger and less likely to have access to a car than those who continued to drive.

Those who chose to walk or cycle instead tended to have a lower household income and a shorter commute—which became shorter still after making the switch—while those who opted for public transport were significantly more likely to be more highly educated.

Switching from a car  to walking, cycling, or public transport was associated with a statistically significant average reduction in BMI of 0.32 kg/m² after taking account of other influential factors – equivalent to a difference of around 1 kg a person, on average.

The longer the commute, the stronger was the association, with a reduction in BMI of 0.75 kg/m² (equivalent to a weight loss of around 2 kg) associated with journeys of more than 10 minutes, and 2.25 kg/m² associated with journeys of more than 30 minutes – equivalent to weight loss of around 7 kg, on average.

In the second analysis, which included 787 people, 268 switched from active to passive travel. Some 156 stopped walking or cycling and 112 switched from public transport (usually a bus or coach) to the car.

Once again, the ‘switchers’ tended to be younger than those who continued with their mode of transport.

Those who stopped walking or cycling to work were significantly less likely than those who stopped using public transport to be in a managerial or professional post. 

They also tended, on average, to have a shorter commute, which lengthened after the switch.

Those who had previously used public transport, on the other hand, had a short commute after the switch.

But switching to a car was associated with a significant weight gain of around 1kg per person (or 0.34 kg/m² ) after taking account of other influential factors.

This is an observational study, so no definitive conclusions can be drawn about cause and effect. Nevertheless, the analysis of individual level changes in BMI over time between the two groups of switchers, using data from a nationally representative survey, strengthens their findings, say the researchers.

If a larger proportion of commuters were able to abandon their cars for a more physically active commute, this could help drive down the average population BMI, they suggest.

'Combined with other potential health, economic, and environmental benefits associated with walking, cycling and public transport, these findings add to the case for interventions to promote the uptake of these more sustainable forms of transport,' they write.

IS THERE A RIGHT TIME TO ADDRESS A 'DO NOT RESUSCITATE' ORDER WITH AN OVER 75?

I will begin by declaring that I was once a newspaper reporter who saw all ‘issues’ and ‘events’ as potential front-page leads – each one bettering the previous in style, content and relevant parties successfully interviewed and quoted. The thrill of seeing my byline on the front page story as the printing press churned out the more prestigious Friday edition of a twice-weekly local London paper is a memory I still cherish.

Doorstepping

On the other hand, even at the age of 19, I baulked at the door stepping my job demanded when one morning a boy of 8, glue sniffing on the roof of flats in Hackney, tumbled to a tragic death and I had to go to the house and invite the family to ‘pay tribute’. I sympathised to some extent – I didn’t yet have children of my own – but feared more a loss of face (and job) if I failed to deliver. The truth is, beginning with ‘I am so, so sorry but I don’t suppose you wish to pay tribute to your little brother, do you?’ to a red-eyed and tearful teenager just a few years younger than me was a major cop out – I’m very happy to report.

Broken hip

Now, very much older, I’m ostensibly a health journalist who possesses, I like to think, a little more insight and sensitivity with regards to those ‘issues’ and ‘events’. But, today I am confused. This confusion focuses on the question: when is the right time to address DNACPR with an over 75? During a GP check-up when their health is not (at that point in time) severely compromised and there's already an on-going discussion about palliative care? Or, following serious haemorrhaging a couple of weeks into the road to recovery following a fall and a broken hip, as she lies in A&E devastated with this setback wondering if their life possibly hangs in the balance, her next of kin having stepped out of the room for five minutes?

Sneaky look

My mother (81 in July) is today in hospital awaiting the results of tests following this haemorrhage. A sneaky look at her records by my younger brother showed us the box had been ticked regarding DNACPR. Neither my brothers nor I have discussed DNACPR with medic or mum, but hope to chat further with a senior consultant sometime today, following a chat initiated by the ward sister who, independent of our discovery, drew my attention to my mother’s choice.

Kneejerk

Reading around the topic of DNACPR, Dr David Oliver writes about the Daily Mail’s typically kneejerk reaction to the drawing up end of life care plans for people over 75, published last month.

In his online article, Fear mongering headlines can harm end of life care, he rightly points out that: ‘I and many other clinicians try every day to help patients with incurable conditions and their families to exercise some choice and control, to try to die in the place of their choosing – generally, not in a hospital if they can help it. Good advance planning can enhance people’s chances of dying in their own homes or care homes or making it to a hospice.

Adding, ‘I don’t seek to defend insensitivity, poor communication and poor judgement by clinicians. I don’t approve of unthinking, blanket application of box ticking policies linked to performance incentives with no regard to the individuals they affect…’ and ‘Do not resuscitate orders discussed fully and sensitively with patients or their carers can also prevent an undignified and over-medicalised end to older people’s lives.’

Flipside

And, indeed, there is a flipside to all this angst of mine over what feels a little like insensitive timing on the part of the doctor because choosing to turn off the life support machine on behalf of an ailing parent who has suffered a long illness and has not made any end of life decisions is dreadful – with memories of it that can haunt and torture and depress.

Therefore, for all the reasons above, as I nudge 50, I will be addressing my own wishes and sharing them with relevant parties as soon as my mother is on the mend and I have the much-needed time to consider it all whilst still blessed with my health.

Bedside

And, perhaps, therein lies another question: why has NHS England limited this to the over 75s and younger patients with serious conditions? Is it not something we all should do – if not, when knocking at death’s door or speculatively hovering some miles away from it? End-of-life plans do need to be discussed to ensure dignity and to meet the expectations of loved ones – indeed, my mother has paid for and organised her own funeral and written a will. But I am pretty sure I didn’t see a funeral director with a clipboard and a form to fill sneak in as we left her bedside for one fleeting moment...

I remain ambivalent but know that, like so many things in life, an ‘end of life’ discussion is all about timing – and the delivery.

References

http://www.dailymail.co.uk/news/article-3056621/Over-75-Sign-ready-death-GPs-ask-older-patients-ll-agree-not-resuscitate-order.html

http://m.hsj.co.uk/5084585.article

The power of the telephone

Hanging (up) on the telephone...

I am mourning the loss of the telephone box. For those old enough to recall, they were a haven of warmth on a cold day for us ‘street’ kids who played out after school. They were perfect for the pranksters among us who liked to dial random numbers from the phone books that hung beneath a ledge where coins could be piled up ready to feed into the pay phone. It was a tall order fitting everyone you hung out with inside – but we somehow managed it – and there was always a stranger who would spoil the fun by standing outside tut-tutting as we took advantage of the warmth, pretending to make phone calls when we so obviously were not. Much later, I admit that I too became that shadowing figure annoyed by the misuse of a much-loved and now much-missed little piece of British heritage.

Nurtures conversation

But what also hit me recently was the power of the telephone and how it encourages and nurtures conversation without structure; how it breaks rules and breaks down boundaries. Conversation – and I mean real conversation – curves and meanders free of any pre-planned path. It can edge into unchartered territory – liberated by a lack of bullet-point agendas to which an email can shackle us all. No constraints, no long electronic trail of commitment to topic. A sharing of thoughts, experiences and snippets of life shared – and no real point to the conversation, save the simple need for a connection with a person in real-time – their voice, tone and lilt revealing nuances of a life that lie undetected and hidden in the restrained formality of the written word.

Tug-of-war

Of course, as a journalist, the written word is my trade. I glue together words, make them fit and hammer in facts and quotes, references and opinions. Deadlines are met, articles turned around quickly and it’s a game of tug-of-war in my head between emails and writing articles. I train my brain to flit effortlessly between the two, mentally punching the air when the laptop is shut down at the end of the day and I’ve an empty inbox and thousands of words in crafted copy. And because of this, there is very often a need for speed when connecting with people. Email ‘conversations’ come easy when sat in front of a computer screen. Let’s face it, I am perfectly placed for them always – and in all ways.

Keeping it real

But, for all my fondness of the written word, for all my pouring over pun and point, for all my stressing over sentence, spelling and syntax – and despite my craving for literary creativity – I am also rather fond of a chat. A verbal one that has been neither edited or rewritten nor cut to within a hair’s breadth of an expected word count.

Real contact is important and the foundation on which we build relationships. In lieu of a face-to-face meeting, the telephone offers this. Whilst I may marvel at Tim Berners-Lee’s worldwide web on a daily basis and all that it has given us – good and bad – my heart still sings with joy at Alexander Graham Bell’s amazing, all-ringing baby. This weekend, I downed tools and chose to pick up the phone instead to discover that talk is cheap (in monetary terms) – but priceless in every other way – and discovered yet again that happy and unexpected friendships are only ever really found inside a real-life, real-time chat. 

Making the right choices

We are faced with multifarious choices on a daily basis – and, here in the UK, we are luckier than most; living in a democracy increases the opportunities in which to choose.

However, the perpetual bombardment of information via a multitude of digital platforms – and the constant onslaught of options it brings with it – can sometimes feel a little intrusive. How best do we extract the necessary from the ridiculous? We need to wade through the murky darkness of ever-increasing rubbish to even catch a glimpse of some informative enlightenment at the end of this tunnel. I like to believe we all surf that information superhighway, largely dodging the dross, except perhaps when curiosity gets the better of us and we take a sly delve into Buzzfeed, Vice or the Huffington Post.

Bipolar

Conversely, doing what I do, I absolutely welcome with open arms this 24/7 access to information that the internet facilitates. And yes, that is somewhat bipolar in attitude and the pendulum of feeling can swing violently in a matter of minutes. We can all become a ‘Google’ authority on the most obscure of topics, with a simple press of a key. Previously untapped nuggets of ‘information’ gold is now mined furiously by us all – and ‘everyone’s an expert’, as they say. And, who are ‘they’, anyway? Hang on, while I search for it…

Got a pain in the arse? You can Google it, unfriend it, #hashtag it or take a photo of it – moody, pouting face optional.

Heart

I only know a neighbour and her family are away for half term from my Facebook newsfeed. We go days without seeing or speaking to each other but we’ll ‘like’ each other’s photos. How bizarre – yet how typical – in this 21st-century world. We all get sucked into the game that is social media – it takes a Luddite or a tough cookie not to. Sometimes, it feels like an exchange of pointless information; other times, it’s a welcome interruption in a life bogged down by commitments. Seeing photos and reading status updates or tweets from friends far afield can lift any heart on a tough day.

But the problem really is that, with all this information flying past our faces, it is sometimes the most obvious thing staring square at it that we fail to see.

Hefty 

Husband was due an ankle operation last week. He has arthritis in the bone and already had surgery a while back for which he paid a hefty sum in order to get it done ASAP as the pain was excruciating. Roll on a few years and the pain is as bad as it ever was. So, last week he was due to have different surgery (carried out by the same consultant) via the NHS.

And, as was expected of him, he trotted off with his ankle-that-needed-fixing to his pre-operative assessment. It was at this point all important communication broke down.

Husband failed to ask the right questions to elicit the necessary information and nurse failed to deliver the information he needed to fully understand the recovery procedure.

Subsequently, my husband found out  – just as he was about to receive his pre-med on the day of surgery – that this operation – fusing of the bone due to severe arthritis – would incapacitate him severely. He wouldn’t be able to put weight on that foot for three months (nor drive) and, further, would need crutches for the subsequent three month. Minimal weight bearing = a good recovery; not good news for a chap whose business is all about selling cars and who loves his walking and cycling.

 Making a choice...

Bones

Fusing bones is a pretty big operation, we now know. The bones are held together using screws and new bone grows across, creating one bone where there were once two. He was told: ‘It normally takes between 12–14 weeks for the fusion to be complete and your bone continues to become stronger after this…’ and so on. Subsequent surgery was likely.

With all that information he had previously failed to gather now finally presented to him, he declined surgery on the day. He feels awful about this, having wasted NHS time and money but his lifestyle and work commitments could not allow for all that recovery period. Period.

And, it is this juggling of a heavy workload with many family demands in a fast-paced world that wrong foots us all at times. The nurse at the pre-op consultation – more interested in finding out if husband was an actor she’d seen on TV or not – may have been at the end of a long shift and ready to get home to her kids. Equally, husband – having sped to the consultation after a long, stressful day – knew he needed the pain in his ankle relieved and hadn’t thought to question the length of recovery time or, indeed, the restrictions.

All that was needed was a simple conversation. All that it became was simply a missed opportunity.

Sole

There’s little wrong with communicating in a digital world but there is, perhaps, something very wrong if this is the sole way of sharing knowledge. And when it fails, it fails miserably. One person’s joke is another’s sensitivity, and you cannot read faces nor sense moods so, in text, honesty can appear blunt, and advice prescriptive or patronising rather than helpful.

We all need to be questioning people on the important things, not Googling it, because you cannot read between the lines on a laptop. In tandem, they may work well and at many levels. But, nothing beats a face-to-face conversation for clarity – and, perhaps, some things are best left in the real world. And, at important times in the company of important people, virtually everything should be left there.

As my daughter so eloquently puts it in her own blog* recently, ‘the problem with technology isn’t its abundance, but the reluctance of most people to put it down’.

*http://gabybissett.blogspot.co.uk

Mindful of deadlines? Try a little mindfulness

Last week, with a handful of deadlines to meet, my Mac decided to die on me. And so did my mobile. No nurturing, no magical combination of keys and no tech-savvy friend could nurse the laptop back to life (the iPhone was less dead and was restored but lost data). The Apple Genius Bars throughout London are so booked up these weeks leading to Christmas, they are now sending customers elsewhere  – proof that even technology suffers festive fatigue.

Having backed up most of my work – as a freelance journalist, I am mindful of the importance of this – I still had half-written drafts sitting on my desktop. I also have InDesign and Photoshop programmes installed in that portable office of mine, along with other much-used and all-essential pages, easily found with bookmarks. It throws me off my track and my reaction happens in clearcut stages:

•         Disbelief
•         Panic
•         Anger and tears
•         Desperation and more tears
•       Serenity – and a more balanced perspective on the whole affair. 

The latter is a new discovery – an emotion I have only recently mastered in times of small stresses. And, ironically, this whole computer debacle happens the day after meeting a lady called Ros Edlin, a stress management expert, who advises dentists on how best to cope with it when it rocks their working lives.

Ros and I meet at the wonderful bar, Caravan, in King’s Cross, having corresponded via email, and then with phone calls, regarding a health article in which I’d referenced her work. We hit it off immediately and find we have a lot in common – and I find she speaks a lot of common sense. We share a passion for traditional methods of communicating, both believing that face to face meetings are better than picking up a phone and that picking up a phone beats emails, hands down. Yes, new technology is a wonderful thing – I embrace it daily – but you do need to shoehorn in a little bit of old-school attitude in this big, new world. Good, solid communication – in its most basic form – is, after all, the foundation on which we build strong working relationships. Anything else is just window dressing, furniture, accessories and bunting, added to enhance and used because we are time poor and technology rich.

But last week, I was tech poor – and, suddenly, time rich. With a working life ruled by MacBook Pro, iPad and iPhone, I had to give in gracefully. And so, I deleted PANIC and edited my emotions and switched off. Like my computer, I downed tools and had a day of – what Ros told me was important for us all – mindfulness that can make us change the way we feel, think and act. 

As I walk my two hounds for two hours, taking in the world of winter in all its glory, I roll back some 17 hours to our shared pizza and recall her words about work-life balance, the stresses of our 21st-century lives and how becoming more aware of the present moment means noticing the sights, smells, sounds and tastes as well as the thoughts and feelings one is experiencing. 

Having just read Richard Flanagan’s account of the atrocities faced by PoWs in his award-winning book, The Narrow Road to the Deep North, I am acutely aware of how lucky I am that it is only my laptop that’s broken and in need of nurture and repair.

Mindfulness helps us enjoy the world more and understand ourselves better and, surely, being aware of our reactions is one step to improving our mental state? 

Let’s face it, when I’m lying dead, nobody is going to recall my deadlines, are they?

• For more about Ros Edlin, visit www.stresswatch.co.uk