When my children were small, I was a single mother living in southern California in Newport Beach. I developed a hacking cough, but my two little boys, Billy and Bobby, kept me very busy, and there seemed to be no time to stop and rest, or to take care of myself long enough to get well. Finally, I went to a doctor. He listened to my chest, x-rayed me, and ran various tests. When he had had time to asses the results, I went back to hear my diagnosis.
I wasn't expecting anything too serious, but he announced that I had bronchiectiasis. "What on earth is that?" I asked, never having heard of it. "It's a situation where phlegm collects in outpouchings on the bronchial tubes. If not treated, it can become a chronic, wasting disease."
"So what do I do to cure it?" I asked. "You need to have a resection of the bronchial tubes to remove those pouches." He took a sheet of paper and began to draw me a diagram showing where the cuts would be. When he showed it to me, I knew in an instant that I wasn't going to let anyone do that to me unless I were absolutely at death's door, and maybe not even then. I thanked him, said I'd think it over, and beat a hasty retreat.
By a very lucky coincidence, right after my visit with the doctor, I had an unexpected opportunity to go and stay with my Uncle in Winchester, Massachusetts. I packed up everything, put the kids in the car, and away we went across the country--a long trip with two little boys! After several days and no really serious mishaps, we arrived in Winchester. Uncle Easty had a pleasant roomy house, an old Colonial with three stories, plus a basement, and a wonderful porch which wrapped around the front and side of it.
Suddenly life was much easier. My uncle had a housekeeper, Marion, who had been with him for years, and my cousin Ann was still living at home and attending Radcliffe .I was no longer responsible for every meal, Ann and I did our laundry together, and shared the cooking responsibilities beyond what was done by Marion. My boys had more people to relate to than just me, and I also had more people around me than just the children.
Now I was able to rest for a change, relax, exercise, spend time in the sun, and pay more attention to what I was eating. As I was able to rest and relax, the boys became much happier too. Oddly enough, I spent more time out in the sun in Massachusetts than I had in California. Soon my hacking cough began to get better, and before too many weeks was completely gone.
As with my previous dire diagnosis (of disabling arthritis, which I spoke of in a previous post), I have often wondered how different my life might have been if I had submitted to that radical surgery, instead of encouraging my body to heal itself. It's so important to follow your own gut instinct and to be skeptical about any cure that involves invasive surgery. The medical world might have laughed at the idea that I could heal myself, but it happened, and rather quickly at that. The body has amazing powers of self-healing.
Since the advent of antibiotics, the recommended treatment is no longer surgery. How glad I am that I didn't do it, and how lucky I was to have had the opportunity to stay in a safe spot where I could concentrate on doing everything I needed to do to improve my general health. so my body could take care of itself!
Wednesday, July 4, 2012
Friday, June 29, 2012
The Big Guy Doesn't Always Win
Years ago, for a brief time, I lived in Mesa, Arizona, I used to walk around the neighborhood, and when I did, always avoided the street where a huge mastiff lived and threatened all who passed by.
One day I was out walking with my little wire-haired Fox Terrier, Teddy, suddenly remembered a forgotten appointment, so was in a hurry, and had to go down the forbidden street. I tried to scurry past the house before the mastiff caught sight of us..
But we didn't make it. This huge canine beast came menacingly down his driveway looking as if he would like to eat Teddy for lunch. I had a moment of real terror. Teddy was about one-eighth the size of the mastiff, and I was sure was no match for him. But Teddy was having no part of my imagined scenario, and took off toward the giant dog, barking so ferociously even I was impressed. My normally loving, docile, friendly little Teddy had turned into a diminutive personification of anger and defiance. The mastiff took one look at that fuzzy bundle of fury, stopped in his tracks, and turned and ran back down the driveway and disappeared into his own backyard.
As soon as Teddy saw he had won the day, he lost all his ferocity and trotted happily back to my side wagging his tail, and became his usual docile self once more. It was as if he had said, "Well, that's how you do that---nothing to it!" I was dumbfounded.. Teddy was a friendly, loving version of a terrier and had never before ever shown his fiesty side. More than that, I was full of respect. He seemed not to have had even an ounce of fear.
After that, whenever I walked with Teddy, I never hesitated to go down that street. If the mastiff happened to be outside as we approached, as soon as he caught sight of us he would turn tail and run to the safety of his own backyard.
For me, it was a good life lesson. Being huge and strong doesn't alsways win the day, The spirit to stick up for oneself regardless of the odds, often seems to mean more than size, strength, or importance.This is not only true of terriers and mastiffs, but of human beings as well, as I found out later in life in some confrontations of my own.
One day I was out walking with my little wire-haired Fox Terrier, Teddy, suddenly remembered a forgotten appointment, so was in a hurry, and had to go down the forbidden street. I tried to scurry past the house before the mastiff caught sight of us..
But we didn't make it. This huge canine beast came menacingly down his driveway looking as if he would like to eat Teddy for lunch. I had a moment of real terror. Teddy was about one-eighth the size of the mastiff, and I was sure was no match for him. But Teddy was having no part of my imagined scenario, and took off toward the giant dog, barking so ferociously even I was impressed. My normally loving, docile, friendly little Teddy had turned into a diminutive personification of anger and defiance. The mastiff took one look at that fuzzy bundle of fury, stopped in his tracks, and turned and ran back down the driveway and disappeared into his own backyard.
As soon as Teddy saw he had won the day, he lost all his ferocity and trotted happily back to my side wagging his tail, and became his usual docile self once more. It was as if he had said, "Well, that's how you do that---nothing to it!" I was dumbfounded.. Teddy was a friendly, loving version of a terrier and had never before ever shown his fiesty side. More than that, I was full of respect. He seemed not to have had even an ounce of fear.
After that, whenever I walked with Teddy, I never hesitated to go down that street. If the mastiff happened to be outside as we approached, as soon as he caught sight of us he would turn tail and run to the safety of his own backyard.
For me, it was a good life lesson. Being huge and strong doesn't alsways win the day, The spirit to stick up for oneself regardless of the odds, often seems to mean more than size, strength, or importance.This is not only true of terriers and mastiffs, but of human beings as well, as I found out later in life in some confrontations of my own.
Medical Advice I Had to Pass Up
I didn't get to be 93 by submissively accepting everything a doctor ever told me. Far from it. During my first pregnancy, my doctor told me I had "post-traumatic arthritis" (due to a couple of serious falls as a teenager). He said my entire back was involved, that eventually I would be in a wheel chair, and be disabled for the rest of my life.
I often wonder what my life would have been like if I had believed that doctor?
But I didn't believe him, perhaps mostly because I didn't want to. Instead, I went to the library to find out all I could about arthritis. For several days I immersed myself in facts about arthritis, how it affects you, what you can do about it, and what the prognosis might be. The main concept I came away with was that it was important to move whatever hurts or is stiff (or both), and not to give in to the pain and be inactive.
From then on, it became my habit to walk, swim, play tennis or golf, or go bowling-- anything that allowed me to keep moving and have fun at the same time. I did NOT end up in a wheelchair, exceot on the rare occasions I was put in one when I left a hospital after the birth of a baby, or some surgical procedure such as a breast biopsy or hysterectomy. Of course I was able to walk out on my own, but hospitals like to deliver you safely into the custody of your own family, so they will be free from blame or lawsuit in case you fall.
The arthritis in my back was actually never as bothersome as the osteoarthritis that came later on and stiffened my joints without mercy. Yet I have always kept moving, no matter what, and there have been very few things I just couldn't do, except for reaching certain guitar or ukelele chords. That was very disappointing, but far less dramatic that spending my life in a wheel chair.
Over the years I have congratulated myself so many times for not having accepted the doctor's dire prognosis. Thank God I absolutely refused to accept the idea of living a helpless, invalid life!
This was only the first of several disastrous diagnoses I absolutely had to ignore. I'll tell about others in future blogs, and in the mesntime, I encourage everyone never to follow anyone blindly, not even a doctor. It's your life. Ask every question you think of. There are no stupid questions when it comes to your own body and your own life.
I often wonder what my life would have been like if I had believed that doctor?
But I didn't believe him, perhaps mostly because I didn't want to. Instead, I went to the library to find out all I could about arthritis. For several days I immersed myself in facts about arthritis, how it affects you, what you can do about it, and what the prognosis might be. The main concept I came away with was that it was important to move whatever hurts or is stiff (or both), and not to give in to the pain and be inactive.
From then on, it became my habit to walk, swim, play tennis or golf, or go bowling-- anything that allowed me to keep moving and have fun at the same time. I did NOT end up in a wheelchair, exceot on the rare occasions I was put in one when I left a hospital after the birth of a baby, or some surgical procedure such as a breast biopsy or hysterectomy. Of course I was able to walk out on my own, but hospitals like to deliver you safely into the custody of your own family, so they will be free from blame or lawsuit in case you fall.
The arthritis in my back was actually never as bothersome as the osteoarthritis that came later on and stiffened my joints without mercy. Yet I have always kept moving, no matter what, and there have been very few things I just couldn't do, except for reaching certain guitar or ukelele chords. That was very disappointing, but far less dramatic that spending my life in a wheel chair.
Over the years I have congratulated myself so many times for not having accepted the doctor's dire prognosis. Thank God I absolutely refused to accept the idea of living a helpless, invalid life!
This was only the first of several disastrous diagnoses I absolutely had to ignore. I'll tell about others in future blogs, and in the mesntime, I encourage everyone never to follow anyone blindly, not even a doctor. It's your life. Ask every question you think of. There are no stupid questions when it comes to your own body and your own life.
Wednesday, March 7, 2012
Bob Crosby and the Bobcats 'Way Back When
I just saw and heard Bob Crosby and the Bobcats on a PBS show about singers from the past. They were doing "Big Noise From Winnetka," which immediately took me back in memory to the Blackhawk Restaurant/Nightclub in downtown Chicago in 1936 or '37. I was a student at the University of Chicago then, and another student, Grant Adams, took me to the Blackhawk along with some others, to hear Bob Crosby and the band. Grant was absolutely nuts about the Bobcats, and as soon as I heard them, I was too. They sounded great and were wonderful to dance to as well.
Grant got so involved in the music he clapped his hands and whistled through his teeth in accompaniment. I wondered what the musicians thought about it, but at least they could tell he was an ardent fan. Not only did he clap and whistle the first time I was there, but kept on whenever I went there with him again after that first time.
Later, when I heard the Bobcat's record, "Big Noise from Winnetka," on the radio, I knew it had to be about Grant. The record started with whistling that sounded exacly like him, and he actually was from Winnetka, a suburb north of Chicago on the "North Shore."
I don't know for sure when the song was written, but I think it was about 1938. Of course I immediately bought a copy, and played it over and over. It was a 78-speed record in a paper slip-cover with advertizing on it, which was standard for that time. I think Bobby Haggart, the bass player, did the whistling as he played, Ray Bauduc was on the drums, and Bob Zurke was playing the piano. I can no longer remember who the other musicians were.
Going down to the Blackhawk to hear Bob Crosby and the Bobcats was one of the highlights of my college life. I loved that music! And I went to hear it whenever the opportunity arose. Fortunately I knew several people who were also crazy about the Bobcats Dixieland take on music. We listened and danced and had a wonderful time. It was definitely happy, upbeat music.
I loved Benny Goodman, Tommy Dorsey, Glenn Miller, Duke Ellington, Count Basie, and lots of others I can't think of at the moment, but Bob Crosby and the Bobcats have always held a special place in my musical heart, and they still do.
Grant got so involved in the music he clapped his hands and whistled through his teeth in accompaniment. I wondered what the musicians thought about it, but at least they could tell he was an ardent fan. Not only did he clap and whistle the first time I was there, but kept on whenever I went there with him again after that first time.
Later, when I heard the Bobcat's record, "Big Noise from Winnetka," on the radio, I knew it had to be about Grant. The record started with whistling that sounded exacly like him, and he actually was from Winnetka, a suburb north of Chicago on the "North Shore."
I don't know for sure when the song was written, but I think it was about 1938. Of course I immediately bought a copy, and played it over and over. It was a 78-speed record in a paper slip-cover with advertizing on it, which was standard for that time. I think Bobby Haggart, the bass player, did the whistling as he played, Ray Bauduc was on the drums, and Bob Zurke was playing the piano. I can no longer remember who the other musicians were.
Going down to the Blackhawk to hear Bob Crosby and the Bobcats was one of the highlights of my college life. I loved that music! And I went to hear it whenever the opportunity arose. Fortunately I knew several people who were also crazy about the Bobcats Dixieland take on music. We listened and danced and had a wonderful time. It was definitely happy, upbeat music.
I loved Benny Goodman, Tommy Dorsey, Glenn Miller, Duke Ellington, Count Basie, and lots of others I can't think of at the moment, but Bob Crosby and the Bobcats have always held a special place in my musical heart, and they still do.
Wednesday, November 30, 2011
When the Guides Don't Guide
Every morning I read the Daily Guides in Science of Mind Magazine, not because I am in complete agreement with what Science of Mind teaches, but because I find ideas that make me think, especialy when I disagree with them. Then I have to ask myself, "if that isn't true, what is?" And I have the fun of thinking about it and writing down what I think.
One recent morning, the subject was "spiritual liberation." The affirmation at the end was, "In this moment, I know I am free. I set the course of my life. I choose my thoughts and concentrate on what I wish to experience."
My reaction was, that if I choose my thoughts from what I already know, I will be imposing limitations on myself.
I would prefer to be open to possibilities I haven't yet thought of. I know there is always more in the "big picture" than I can even imagine, so I want to find new ideas that might be able to change my way of processing the habitual substance of my life.
I have been functioning in, living in, and experiencing the same situation for several years, and am constantly learning new ways of understanding and interchanging with the two sons that are sharing this experience with me. I and they have learned to cooperate with and be kind to each other as we interact every day in all our different moods and states of health.
Earlier in my life, when things were difficult, I used to try to change the outer things--people, jobs, my location, or whatever. Now, instead, I try to look at myself with more honesty, and see what I can change there.
I know that my thoughts create the kind of life I get to live, but I have to do more than keep picking my thoughts out of the same old familiar barrel. Just choosing the best out of the worst is not enough. That's why I don't focus on "getting what I wish to experience."
I've discovered over time, after many decisions that made things worse instead of better, that there are principles involved in choosing thoughts--principles that can keep me from allowing self-will be the sole arbiter of what I do.
The one that has changed me the most is the principle of treating other people the way I would like to be treated. That doesn't mean, "I'll be nice to you if you'll be nice to me;" it means "no matter what you do, I will still treat you the way I would like to be treated in the same circumstance."
Actually, this concept is the reason we believe in the right to a fair trial. It's why civilized people have learned to be polite to each other. It's why we believe stealing is wrong. It's why I greet people with a smile even when I feel down.
It is vitally important to me to give what I'm hoping to get. Otherwise, I don't feel right with the world.
One recent morning, the subject was "spiritual liberation." The affirmation at the end was, "In this moment, I know I am free. I set the course of my life. I choose my thoughts and concentrate on what I wish to experience."
My reaction was, that if I choose my thoughts from what I already know, I will be imposing limitations on myself.
I would prefer to be open to possibilities I haven't yet thought of. I know there is always more in the "big picture" than I can even imagine, so I want to find new ideas that might be able to change my way of processing the habitual substance of my life.
I have been functioning in, living in, and experiencing the same situation for several years, and am constantly learning new ways of understanding and interchanging with the two sons that are sharing this experience with me. I and they have learned to cooperate with and be kind to each other as we interact every day in all our different moods and states of health.
Earlier in my life, when things were difficult, I used to try to change the outer things--people, jobs, my location, or whatever. Now, instead, I try to look at myself with more honesty, and see what I can change there.
I know that my thoughts create the kind of life I get to live, but I have to do more than keep picking my thoughts out of the same old familiar barrel. Just choosing the best out of the worst is not enough. That's why I don't focus on "getting what I wish to experience."
I've discovered over time, after many decisions that made things worse instead of better, that there are principles involved in choosing thoughts--principles that can keep me from allowing self-will be the sole arbiter of what I do.
The one that has changed me the most is the principle of treating other people the way I would like to be treated. That doesn't mean, "I'll be nice to you if you'll be nice to me;" it means "no matter what you do, I will still treat you the way I would like to be treated in the same circumstance."
Actually, this concept is the reason we believe in the right to a fair trial. It's why civilized people have learned to be polite to each other. It's why we believe stealing is wrong. It's why I greet people with a smile even when I feel down.
It is vitally important to me to give what I'm hoping to get. Otherwise, I don't feel right with the world.
Tuesday, November 29, 2011
The Homeless Are Human
Downtown today I saw a young homeless man that I have seen before, sitting on a bench outside a store with his sign. When I came out, I went over and greeted him and geve him a dollar. He smiled and said "Thank you! I haven't seen you for awhile." I answered "That's true. How are you?" A shadow seemed to cross his face. "I'm O.K." He paused. "Last week was kinda hard." He seemed to be making an effort to keep control. "I had to put my cat down...with my own hands." I was horrified. "Oh, that's awful! What happened?" "She was so badly injured, she was dying, and I had no money for a vet."
It was all I could do to keep my composure and not cry. I have lost and wept over many cats, but the thought of having to put one out of its misery myself was too horrible to contemplate. "I'm so sorry that happened and that you had to do that," I said. His face, though as close to stoic as he could manage, showed the pain of that decision, that action, and that loss. I spoke to him for a few minutes, told him how sorry I was, wished him well, and then I had to go on my way.
As I walked to my car I deeply wished that more people could see the humanity of the homeless, the suffering they go through, and the hardships they face just to eat, to stay alive, to keep warm, to find a place to wash, or even a place to sleep that is safe.
I've heard people comment that since they are homeless, why are they so foolish as to have pets? But what else could give them the unquestioning, unconditional love that they must sorely need in such a dire situation?
If only I were rich, I would help every one that I could.
It was all I could do to keep my composure and not cry. I have lost and wept over many cats, but the thought of having to put one out of its misery myself was too horrible to contemplate. "I'm so sorry that happened and that you had to do that," I said. His face, though as close to stoic as he could manage, showed the pain of that decision, that action, and that loss. I spoke to him for a few minutes, told him how sorry I was, wished him well, and then I had to go on my way.
As I walked to my car I deeply wished that more people could see the humanity of the homeless, the suffering they go through, and the hardships they face just to eat, to stay alive, to keep warm, to find a place to wash, or even a place to sleep that is safe.
I've heard people comment that since they are homeless, why are they so foolish as to have pets? But what else could give them the unquestioning, unconditional love that they must sorely need in such a dire situation?
If only I were rich, I would help every one that I could.
Monday, November 28, 2011
The Flow of Wisdom
Recently, as I was doing some small task, it came to me that information and wisdom are constantly flowing, always available to anyone who listens within. If I am not aware of it, or receiving it, I am not being quiet enough or attentive enough to hear. The source never goes away; I go away.
All that day, I kept sensing the dynamic energy and intelligence of the Universe, always in action, and yet always resting in some way--resting, but not at rest. It is balanced, alive, functioning, and ready. It can't be commanded, but can be brought forth by individual attention and awareness. Every individual has to find it for themselves by temporarily letting go of their own thoughts and listening. No one else can do it for you.
Many things--experiences, books, people--help to widen your scope, give you new ideas, and so on, but in the end, everyone has to come to his own awareness of what is beyond the finite, physical self and the finite, physical mind.
Human thought is apt to be limited to what we think of as realistic, to what we already know. We cut ourselves off from the not-yet-known, the infinite possibilities that lie beyond our ordinary thinking, no matter how educated or intellectual our thoughts may be.
I have found that there is an unlimited source of wisdom available to anyone who decides to listen for it from within.
All that day, I kept sensing the dynamic energy and intelligence of the Universe, always in action, and yet always resting in some way--resting, but not at rest. It is balanced, alive, functioning, and ready. It can't be commanded, but can be brought forth by individual attention and awareness. Every individual has to find it for themselves by temporarily letting go of their own thoughts and listening. No one else can do it for you.
Many things--experiences, books, people--help to widen your scope, give you new ideas, and so on, but in the end, everyone has to come to his own awareness of what is beyond the finite, physical self and the finite, physical mind.
Human thought is apt to be limited to what we think of as realistic, to what we already know. We cut ourselves off from the not-yet-known, the infinite possibilities that lie beyond our ordinary thinking, no matter how educated or intellectual our thoughts may be.
I have found that there is an unlimited source of wisdom available to anyone who decides to listen for it from within.
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