By Neal Barnard, MD on March 11, 2010
Photo Credit: Vanity Fair
As a doctor, I want to get a few things straight, Mr. President.
Right, left, or in-between, our country needs you. Your wife and girls need you. They need you in good health, and setting a good example, not least because talking about healthcare is so much more credible when we do what we can to not need it.
Here’s the bad news: You have not one, but two risk factors for heart disease: smoking and high cholesterol. You’re not a teenager anymore. It’s time to take this seriously.
The good news—great news, in fact—is that you can change them both. But frankly, I’m worried. If you have had trouble sorting out smoking and cholesterol, then millions of other Americans must be in the same boat, which is to say completely in the dark about the very same problems.
So let me lay it on the line:
First, smoking. Tobacco is a tough habit to break. I know. When my hospital banned smoking, I wondered how the doctors would take it—after all, the doctors’ lounge had a dull haze 24/7. But we broke that habit, and so can you. There is no magic here. Just keep trying until you quit for good. And it gets easier every day that goes by without a cigarette.
Second, cholesterol. Here, let’s clear up a few myths.
First, exercise won’t lower your cholesterol. It may bump up “good” cholesterol slightly and improve your basketball game or your stride, but you definitely can’t count on it to lower your “bad” cholesterol. It won’t.
Second, we almost certainly cannot blame genes. For the vast majority of people, high cholesterol comes down to diet.
Third, switching from beef to chicken and fish has almost no effect on cholesterol. It lowers “bad” cholesterol only about 5 percent–and that’s not enough.
The answer is behind your house, in the White House garden. Foods from plants have essentially no cholesterol and are free of the animal fat that causes the body to make cholesterol. If you skipped meat, dairy products, and eggs for even a few weeks, chances are your cholesterol would drop right into the normal range.
What’s that? You love burgers and chili? Fair enough. So make it a veggie burger. And I can show you a vegetarian chili that is so good, you’ll never know the difference.
And when you conquer your health demons, you’ll inspire every American child to do the same. Lest you think this is a trivial issue, one in five teens has an abnormal cholesterol test today, according to the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention. And it only gets worse as they reach adulthood. One in three children is overweight, and one in three will eventually develop diabetes.
You can help them by stubbing out the smokes for good and adopting a healthy, plant-based diet. And as a shining example of good habits, you will have done more good for the health of the American public than any prior president.
People may disagree on how to make healthcare work. But I hope that a bit of advice on how to be healthy will reduce the risk you’ll ever need it, and help you stay well and strong. That’s food for thought.
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By Guest Blogger on November 6, 2009
By Gena Hamshaw
Tell me if this sounds familiar: you’re the designated “health nut” in your circle of friends. Perhaps you’re the resident vegan; you might also be the runner who’s training for her next marathon. When you go out to dinner with friends and family, you’re the one explaining what tempeh is, or extolling the joys of raw nut cheese, or giving your companions a quick tutorial in sea vegetables.
But something’s amiss. You’ve gone this one habit—just one—that doesn’t quite jive with the others. Maybe it’s the coffee you can’t stop guzzling in the morning. Maybe it’s that extra glass or two of wine that you don’t really need. Maybe it’s the furtive non-vegan cupcake you sneak in when no one’s watching, or the pizza you ordered yesterday and immediately regretted.
Or maybe it’s the smokes.
For almost eight full years, I was the health nut with the nasty habit. I was a smoker: not a social smoker, but a full on, pack a day smoker. I smoked in with my morning coffee. I smoked when I got home from work (to “unwind”). I smoked during my lunch break. I smoked after meals. I smoked after sex. I smoked after the gym—it was my reward, I reasoned. I smoke when I was stressed, and I smoked when I was mellow. Through good times and bad, ups and downs, I smoked. And, truth be told, I relished every cigarette I ever had.
That I was also a vegetarian, and then a vegan, didn’t stop me. That I exercised daily didn’t stop me, either. That I had made those choices under the rubric of being “healthy”— my veganism was more a health choice than an ethical one—didn’t really deter me, either. The hypocrisy was not lost on me, but I just couldn’t let the damn cancer sticks go. My doctor once chuckled during a physical and asked, “how does it feel to be undoing all of the incredible things you do for your body? Because that’s what you’re doing.”
Over time, and as I began my journey into raw foods the hypocrisy became more than I could bear. I was terrified to quit: How would I end meals? How would I handle stress at the office? What would I do as I waited for people outside of restaurants? How would I occupy my hands at night?
Then I went to Mexico on an eight day yoga retreat. And for the first time in seven years, I went four days without smoking. I wasn’t trying: I was practicing three hours of yoga a day, eating mostly raw fruit and coconuts, and feeling incredible. Cigarettes simply didn’t cross my mind. When I realized how long it had been, it occurred to me that I’d gone nearly a week without nicotine. I’d never have another chance to go five days without any of my triggers: stress, deadlines, etc. So I decided to quit, right then and there.
At first, I didn’t feel so bad, and I thought that perhaps the armor of my healthy lifestyle would magically protect me from nicotine withdrawal. Then it hit me. First came quitter’s flu, the four-day ailment that mimics real flu (it’s a powerful form of detox, localized in the mucous membranes). Then came headaches: dull, unrelenting pains behind my forehead that persisted for days at a time. Then came lousy moods. Throw in trouble focusing, ravenous thirst, and erratic bursts of energy, and you get the picture: I was miserable.
But it wasn’t these nasty ups and downs that hurt the most. It was my sense of loneliness, especially at night. Many recovering alcoholics describe a dread of evenings, a fear of coming home and not being able to pour themselves a drink. As a friend who was trying to sober up once put it to me, “What will I do if I have to be alone with my thoughts?” I wasn’t afraid of my thoughts, but I did feel, suddenly, very alone. Cigarettes had been my little friends in those quiet evening hours, and I missed them.
So how did I stay the course? I wish I could offer you magical tips and tricks that helped me, but the truth is that there weren’t many. I didn’t use gum (I would have gotten addicted to that, too). I drank a lot of tea, slipped in some guilty coffee now and then (hey, it offered a healthier high than nicotine and tobacco), and relied heavily on my yoga practice. But the best motivation was the slew of improvements in my health: the brighter skin, the renewed energy, the capacity to run five miles without heaving. And the best incentive of all was my feeling that, for the first time, I could embrace my identity as a health freak honestly.
Now, a year and a half later, it seems a bit crazy to think that smoking ever figured so prominently in my life. It’s like trying to remember the intensity of being in love with someone long after you’ve fallen out of it. I still feel pangs every now and then, but for the most part, it’s ancient history. I won’t pretend it’s easy: I still have an intense nostalgia for smoking, and I struggle often with the urge to buy a pack. But fortunately—and in spite of the one or two guilty drags I’ve stolen from friends’ cigarettes in the last year—I’ve managed to remain firm in my commitment to quitting. And believe me, it’s worth it.
For all of you out there reading who struggle with smoking—or any other non-ideal habit that wages battle with your healthy ones—I urge you to do your best. I offer you no lies: quitting will be hard, and your ability to stick with it will ultimately rely on your own willpower and determination. But if you can muster your biggest reserves of strengths, I can guarantee you that a healthier, happier, and prouder future awaits.
Stick to your guns. Wherever you are, and whatever your goal is, this former smoker is cheering you from afar.
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