Men's concept of masculinity enables the health crisis in men. Photo / Getty Images
Men's concept of masculinity enables the health crisis in men. Photo / Getty Images
OPINION
The Mississippi Delta was shining like a national guitar on the day that I went to Graceland, Memphis, Tennessee. We had followed that river down the highway and through the cradle of the Civil War; as we crossed the Memphis-Arkansas bridge in my mate’s F-150 we were going ata good clip and had nothing on our minds but pork ribs and the blues.
Unlike Paul Simon, my travelling companions were not nine, or ghosts, or empty sockets - whatever he meant by that. My companions were three of my closest friends, strangers to one another just two days before, each of us eager to tick off a few items from our individual bucket lists.
We had nearly lost one member of the group the previous night, to a charming young woman from Arkansas who was wooed by his stories of the exotic lands of Manurewa and Waipukurau (“the Third Fifteen?” I can recall her exclaiming, “you must be really good.”). He was ready to return with her to the trailer park - I am being totally earnest here - and begin a new life. I told him he was too skinny for overalls and wouldn’t like catfish. He begrudgingly agreed.
We were living off gas station coffee, smoked meat and the wide open road. After Memphis would come Nashville, and finally New Orleans. We thought we were invincible; NOLA had other ideas.
It was, as I tell anyone who will listen, the trip of a lifetime. We left it all on the field and were nursing our wounds throughout our direct Air New Zealand flight from Houston to Auckland. Their crew took excellent care of us and showed remarkable professionalism in not laughing at our newly-purchased and unfortunately oversized cowboy hats.
I’ve written about my southern road trip in this column before, but I have been thinking of it again this week as I recover from a lung infection that has had me well and truly sidelined. I ignored several warning signs and am paying a hefty price.
I am nearing the end of my middle age and I don’t take good enough care of myself. I haven’t for some time. Yes, my life to this point has included a litany of wild adventures, but lately it has increasingly included random pains, declining mobility and two-day hangovers. I’m not a young man anymore; apparently I’m the last person to figure that out.
The leading cause of death for men aged 15-30 is suicide. Photo / Getty Images
This is common amongst men, and especially so for Kiwi men. The story of men’s health in Aotearoa is one of higher and earlier mortality. An excellent summary by Te Ara Tika o te Hauora Hapori reveals that between the ages of 50-75, the overall number of deaths for men is 30 per cent higher than for women.
At the other end of the spectrum, the leading cause of death for men aged 15-30 is suicide, while female mortality rates from suicide are 40 per cent of that of their male counterparts.
This crisis is partly driven by men themselves, or at least our concept of masculinity: we self-report to doctors at much lower rates, and are more likely to engage in unhealthy behaviours around substance use and lifestyle. Below the surface, however, is another set of conditions keeping men unhealthy, and this iceberg goes deeper than we know.
Why? Because we aren’t trying to find out. Reviews of the local literature show that for heart disease, stroke, and cancer, studies of women’s health outnumber men’s health by two to one, and that for every dollar spent on research into women’s health, just six cents are spent on men’s health.
Note that I’m not advocating for reappropriating funds from women’s health research to benefit men. I am emphatic, though, that we need to support our tānetanga better, in the knowledge that they may not have the best tools to support themselves in the way that they need.
About an hour out of Houston on the final day of our trip, the conversation took a sombre turn. “I’ve absolutely loved this, boys,” my mate began, “it’s been ages since I’ve been able to talk about this kind of stuff”. The truck was in total agreement - we all had full plates back home, but we weren’t upfront about it. We said we’d keep the line open, and revisit the conversation. Six months have passed and honestly? We’ve done a terrible job.
So this year, men and those with men that they care for, let’s take our health more seriously. Get those niggly health issues checked out. Fill up the water bottle and hit the pavement. And, maybe most importantly, tell your mates you love them.
