Commentary

Posted in: Commentary
Commentary: Worked to Death
By Mitch Traphagen
Jun 26, 2008 - 6:00:35 PM

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I’ve heard many people say that small towns just don’t have the resources of larger cities.  In East Iowa, I have not found that to be the case - often, it is just the opposite.

Last Friday, I blew out my shoulder - it’s something that happens a few times a year, a product of carrying a 40-pound camera bag around.

By Saturday, it was apparent the blow-out was worse than normal - I looked like I was doing a bad Milton Berle impression and the pain was significant.  At 8 a.m., my wife stopped down at the Family Medical Clinic of Iowa River Valley.  Yes, they were open and yes, I could get in to see someone.  By 9:40, I was sitting in an examination room.

Not only did I get a same day appointment, but the ARNP spent a significant amount of time with me discussing the problem.

No way, no how would that have happened in the city.

First, my local clinic in Florida wasn’t open on Saturday.  Second, the only way I could have gotten a same-day appointment was if I was on fire or something.  Finally, I rarely visited my clinic in the city when the waiting room wasn’t full.  Although the doctors there were good, they simply weren’t able to spend much time with each patient.  Being able to actually talk to a medical professional was wonderful.

I am grateful for the Family Medical Clinic - from the receptionist on up, I’ve yet to encounter a better group of professionals.  These are people who actually care about you and that’s something that is becoming uncommon today.  From my experience, it is a rare example of what healthcare should be.

Worked to Death

After a particularly long day at work, my wife said, “I don’t want you to be like Tim Russert.”
OK - no problem there.  I’m not successful, wealthy or famous. 

What she was referring to, however, is the fact that Russert died at work.  The time it takes to keep the East Iowa Herald running pretty much consumes every waking hour.  If I were to die next week or next month, almost certainly I will die at work.

Russert’s colleagues talked about how the office is the place he would want to be.  I’m not so sure about that - even owning my own business, I can think of a lot of other places I’d choose to take my last breath than sitting in front of a computer.

Which lead me to wonder, how many people do actually die at work?  How many of us are literally worked to death?

It turns out that it’s hard to say as few organizations have much desire to keep that kind of statistic.  Compiling news reports and government statistics, however, reveals a few things.
One convenient way to die at work is to be a white male working for the government.  Between 1992 and 2001, more than 10 percent of all occupational fatalities were among government workers.  Most of those were white males and involved transportation incidents, assaults or violent acts.  No surprise, but the most dangerous job was that of protective services.  In 2006, 284 people died at work in that industry.

You would think being a coal miner would have to rank right up near the top of the list for ways to die at work - but you would be wrong.  In 2006, 192 coal miners died while working.  That is a vast improvement from 100 years ago.  In early part of the 20th century, in one year alone, more than 3,200 miners died.

So while law enforcement and coal mining would appear to be obvious, it seems the food service industry isn’t exactly safe - 86 people died at work in that industry.  How?  The deaths run the gamut.  In 2001, a young woman in New Jersey was killed at work at McDonalds when an elderly man plowed his Cadillac into the restaurant.  There just isn’t a good way to prepare for something like that.

It turns out, though, that law enforcement, coal mining and fast food have nothing on the innocuously titled, “Management, Professional and Related Occupations.”  It seems the white collars among us are keeling over at a pretty good clip.  In 2006, there were 857 deaths at work.

Like many people today, I’m on my way to becoming a statistic.  As companies look to squeeze out every last penny of revenue, they are increasingly looking to their employees to make that happen.  Salaries and benefits are down but the stress is up these days.  
I have to say, I’m not excited about the prospect of going permanently face down on to my computer keyboard.  Sitting in an examination room at the Family Medical Clinic I was told that I shouldn’t expect to live long if I continue at my current pace.

But then, should any of us?  Politicians continually play the “fear card” in the  hopes of getting easy votes and that a terrified public is a sheep-like public.  Companies threaten layoffs, banks threaten foreclosures and the media seems to constantly trumpet the fact that we are going to hell in a handbasket in every way possible.

Certainly, hard work is part of the American way - but the rest of that ideal includes optimism, hope and a belief that the best is yet to come.  It seems we’ve been stumbling on that optimism part lately.

I know the best is yet to come because I can see it here in Iowa.  Having visited every state in the lower 48, I can say that here, more than most places, people celebrate life.  The banks are staffed with our neighbors and the companies tend to believe they have a responsibility to their employees.  Amazingly enough, our elected officials even answer emails.

Life is indeed good here and there is most definitely reason for optimism.  

Pastor Doug Morton makes a good point in his column this week about people worrying the end of the world is near - he mentioned a quote attributable to Martin Luther:  “Even if I knew that tomorrow the world would go to pieces, I would still plant my apple tree.”  

That ties in to a lesson I learned from a kid in sixth grade.  One day our teacher asked what we would do if we found out we had only 24 hours to live.  Most boys, being generally stupid at that age, said they would go out and steal a car or rob a bank.  Tim Middaugh, however, said that he would plant a tree.  I’m certain that other kids laughed at him but I didn’t.  Over the years I’ve come to realize how incredibly insightful a sixth grade boy by the name of Tim Middaugh could be.

I’m going to take a lesson from Tim Middaugh - and from Tim Russert.  I may not run out to plant a tree but I’m going to try to not permanently plant my face onto to my computer, either.  This is one of the greatest things I can take from living in Iowa - a better understanding of priorities.  Living here, those priorities are clear.  

Thank you for setting the example.



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