“Do you not know that your body is a temple of the Holy Spirit, who is in you, whom you have received from God? You are not your own” (1 Corinthians 6:19).

 

            When he was serving as an army doctor, he earned the nickname Cannonball, because he charged down the hallways to see his patients (in his own words) “as if they would evaporate before I got there.”  When people didn’t talk fast enough, he would chide, “Yup, yup, come to the point.”

Dr. Meyer Friedman was in a hurry to become an authority on coronary disease, but he stumbled over himself on the way to fame. When he was only 45, he had his first attack of angina or heart pains.  At 55, he had the first of two heart attacks, and then the doctor began listening to his own advice.

His transition came as the result of several factors.  First, he and his partner in a cardiology practice began to see extremely high levels of coronary disease in Western countries, and Dr. Friedman began to draw lines between the dots of stress.  He became convinced that there was more to the causes of heart disease than just diet producing cholesterol and a lack of exercise.

About the same time, he made an interesting discovery.  He noticed that the old upholstered chairs in the office waiting room had been especially worn on the front edges and the arms.  He, or more probably his office staff, also noticed that these were the chairs which his extremely wired, up-tight patients sat in, the ones who were usually jumping up to ask much longer they had to wait before they could see the doctor.

Dr. Friedman developed the theory of behavior types, characterizing Type A behavior as a pattern characterized by compulsively driven individuals who are tense with tightly wound springs.  But he also believed they generally were chronically angry and had never learned how to get those adrenalin-driven emotions out of their system.

In his personal life, he transitioned from the Type A personality he described in his 1974 book, Type A Behavior and Your Heart, and to a more laid-back, relaxed Type B individual which he became.  What worked for the doctor also worked for the patients who had diseased hearts.  And what kind of treatment did he prescribe?  Heavy medication?  No, but some pretty heavy attitude and lifestyle changes.  Like what?

1. Leave your watch at home for at least one day. Go somewhere and do something when you are driven only by hunger or darkness.
2. Stand in the longest line at the grocery store when you go shopping. (Frankly, I’ve tried this one, and remembering that life is going to go on if it takes you three minutes longer is pretty good therapy).
3. Read classics instead of short encapsulated summaries. Friedman prescribed Marcel Proust’s seven volume Remembrance of Things Past which he read through three times—that’s 21 volumes’ worth.
4. Stop criticizing your  children, business colleagues and other drivers.
5. Talk to people as opposed to cutting conversations off so you can “get back to work.”
6. Focus on what he called the three Ps: “Pets! Plants! Persons!”
7. Smile! Even if you don’t feel like it.

What difference did “taking his own medicine” make in the doctor’s life?  Plenty!  Until he was 90, he directed the medical institute that bears his name, and when his heart finally failed, he was loved and missed by thousands.

A final thought.  Dr. Friedman understood the importance of diet and exercise, but he learned that stress is a killer.  He also learned that you are your own worst enemy but also the one who can extend your life and future.  Watching your grandchildren grow up is well worth the changes necessary. (Source: Los Angeles Times, May 6, 2001, p. B20).

Resource reading: 1 Corinthians 6.