The March issue of Reader’s Digest Philippines (a one-off difference from Reader’s Digest Asia—I think because of the annual Trusted Brands feature) had an unusually unassuming cover. ‘SLOW HEALING’, the cover story stated. ‘New-Age Convalescence’.
It was, of course, in light of the current pandemic that seems to surge each time localities decide to let up on their lockdown restrictions.
‘A hundred years ago,’ Lizzie Enfield writes, ‘convalescence was seen as a necessary part of the recovery process. the word was part of the vernacular, describing a liminal space between health and illness: a phase where people were neither “sick” nor “well” but somewhere in between.
‘Today the word is almost obsolete and, rather than taking time to rest and recuperate, most people return to work as soon as humanely possible. They are helped by wonder drugs like antibiotics, which, by dealing effectively with the extreme symptoms of illness, con the body into thinking it’s fully recovered when often it’s only partway there.’
A cursory search for this article showed me that Lizzie had written a few iterations of this article, with one going as far back as 2012. Presumably, she adapted the version in Reader’s Digest in tangent on COVID-19, which the article also mentions:
‘COVID-19 has reintroduced us to the concept of a prolonged recovery, with numerous patients claiming they are not back to full health after 100 days. It has also seen the dusting off of the noun “convalescence” and its associated verb.’
Interestingly, she calls the concept of convalescence a Victorian construct, something I believe because the only two times I’d encountered the word in the past were in Wuthering Heights, set in the 19th century England, and Albert Camus’ The Plague, set in a much more recent 1947, and in France. It’s such a long and odd word to roll around your tongue, in my opinion. There is no obvious root word to tie it to the concept of recovery (unless you knew the Latin word it came from). When I googled it at the time of reading I just assumed it was an old-fashioned way of saying recovery.
When I read Lizzie’s article, though, something clicked in my head and the concept of convalescence made absolute, perfect sense.
In the Philippines, we have the concept of bínat. Similarly to Victorian England, it’s a common household term and concept that young and old people alike use. Loosely translated, it means to relapse from a sickness because one did not take rest seriously. Tagalog Lang has a most succinct definition:
BÍNAT (bí·nat): becoming sick again because of prematurely returning to normal activities after a sickness seems to have passed.
From Tagalog Lang
‘Ingat, baka mabinat ka‘ is a common greeting out of love and concern from family and friends: ‘Take care of yourself. You might get sick again.’
So, we might not have a word for convalescence, itself, but we do have the concept that directly implies the need for it. To avoid bínat means to not physically exert yourself, to drink lots of water, eat lots of fruits and vegetables to help your immune system, and to get enough sleep and rest.
This all reminds me of an unpleasant, if unforgettable, experience I had after a mild bout of flu-like symptoms a few years back. I had missed three or more days of work and, following my workplace policy, had to be seen by a doctor. The purpose is to provide a medical certificate, as we called it, to prove that I was in fact really sick when I took the three days off.
(Personally, I find it stupid to force an already unwell employee to 1) leave the house 2) expose himself to other people and 3) exert himself, just to prove his sickness. If this pandemic taught us anything, I hope it’s to take people’s sickness at face value and maybe let them rest and stay home without judgment.)
The woman—the licenced MD—who saw me immediately launched into a tirade of how indolent I was. Speaking to me in Tagalog, she told me how ‘lucky’ I was that my bloodwork came back corroborating that I was indeed fighting an infection (of course, she couldn’t tell me whether it was bacterial or viral.) She was heavily implying that I simply skipped work because I felt like it, and was cheekily asking a doctor to sign my medical certificate. I get it, people do this on occasion, although I believe it has more to do with unforgiving shifts and policies, and a culture of distrust, rather than a legitimate need for a piece of paper.
‘You really should take care of yourself,’ she then continued, ostensibly sounding more positive. ‘You need to get back to work ASAP so you don’t waste your company’s productivity.’ I don’t recall her exact wording, but she was urging me to avoid the sin of sloth and to get my arse back to work because it’s the right and noble thing to do in our capitalist society.
At the time, I just sat silently accepting her abuse. I didn’t care about this woman, and I had every intention of avoiding her and the clinic in the future. She could say all she wanted about me. I just couldn’t believe that a doctor like her is out there practicing and espousing these values of mask your symptoms, pretend you’re not sick, and don’t even ask yourself if it might be better to stay home so you don’t infect your coworkers.
Of course, she gave me a prescription for what seems to be a cocktail of medicine and pseudo-medicine to blanket-address all my possible symptoms, even ones I didn’t have:
At the time she saw me, I was already recovering (shall we say, convalescing?) from my illness. Again, the only reason I sought her was because I needed a medical certificate for work. Even most health sites would tell you that you can manage most symptoms at home, with bed rest and over-the-counter medicine. This woman practically wanted me to mask all my symptoms and come to work, no excuses.
I can’t believe her attitude is acceptable, especially today. As you can see, I spitefully and delicately jotted down ‘nope’ to nearly all the meds she prescribed me. I didn’t need the medicine. It was wasteful. (I didn’t follow the antibiotic because she couldn’t even prove I had a bacterial infection. For the iron / folic acid supplement, I considered it at least because I seem to suffer from a perpetual iron-deficiency anaemia.)
Why only rest and shun medicine, Jean? I am not against the management of symptoms, but I take a painkiller or cold medicine as needed. I fastidiously take my antibiotics when I have a bacterial infection. I still keep a bottle of Rubitussin cough syrup because it’s the only antitussive I know. I pop an Advil when I’m so sick that I can feel the soreness in my bones.
I think it’s important to not mask your symptoms completely, but to manage them to minimise your own suffering (which, for the most part, is not a lot). We need to understand our bodies, not pretend we’re well when we’re not.
Continuing with Lizzie’s article, she goes on to recount what her doctor told her—when you’re fighting an infection, your body’s immune system responds by sending its immune cells to where the infection is. If you don’t take adequate rest, you’re not giving your immune system a chance to recover or reorder itself to prepare for another attack, which makes you even more susceptible to a relapse, or perhaps a bout of new illness.
In a similar vein, for a bacterial infection like pneumonia, antibiotics may deal with the bacteria, but will not repair the inflammation and damage to the lungs. Your body needs to heal, aside from the external help it gets when you try to manage your symptoms.
Lizzie’s full article recounts other aspects, like the holistic practice of going to seaside towns with fresh air to properly ‘convalesce’, its modern-day equivalent in spa hotels, and personal experiences of relapsing and eventually recovering from serious conditions—all from a change of mindset. It’s worth a read if you can grab a copy of the March 2021 issue of RD Philippines. Nonetheless, I also found a copy of it via RD Australia on PressReader. For a one-time cost of USD 2.00, I think it’s worth it, along with the entire issue.
Overall, in my own network I see more people—thought leaders, podcasters, doctors, and advocates—who inform us of modern-yet-traditional ways to keep ourselves healthy: by prioritising sleep, taking rest seriously, and making lifestyle changes to reduce stress. It’s interesting how these things are good not only for our physical health and immune function, but also for our mental health. There are so many aspects to slow living, and convalescence is just one of them.
In a post-COVID world though, I don’t think anyone would be in a hurry to ‘get back to work’ after an illness (or during, heaven forbid).
The next time you’re sick though, remember to slow down, be kind to yourself, and take it easy.