A DOCTOR'S [MD] WISDOM

Hey, I went to see a doctor today for something really benign, but interesting.  For about a year now I have this uncomfortable feeling in the upper left hand corner of my back.  It feels like an itch but even my best Chinese backscratcher thingie doesn't make it go away.  So, two weeks ago I decided to talk to my Primary Care Sawbones about it. I figured, "Hmmm, maybe this could be cancer or some such pesky disorder.  So, I showered, powdered and other such things that you do when you prepare do disrobe in front of a stranger.  I have to admit, I really felt quite spiffy.  Amost like going to the Junior Senior Prom, for goodness sake.  So after the usual preliminary security screen, like you know, First name, Last name, weight, age, blood pressure, pulse, temperature, what drugs you're on to stay alive and where does it hurt, I was ushered into the 10 x 10 cubicle, still fully clothed and told that the doctor would be in shortly.
I sat there for about 5 minutes and then the Man walked in after knocking on the door to announce his presence.  That was rather unnecessary since I was still as modestly covered as when the nurse abandoned me.  I told the Doc why I had come.  He put his hands deftly on my back,over my clean shirt, rubbed around the area a little bit and said, "You've got arthritis."  Heee, Haaww, this guy has been seeing me for 12 years and he announces to me that he has discovered that I have arthritis.  I was torn a being at a fork in the mental road...Was it better to discover that this guy finally found out that I have arthritis or to celebrate that arthritis is not nearly as deadly as cancer?  So, guess what - I shrugged and asked, "So how many people have arthritis in the upper back?"  He said, I don't know, but you do."
Now, he can also read my mind.  I'm saying to myself, "This guy never even came close to touching my bare body and he announces that he knows I have arthritis.  Maybe he's gambling because he knows that it's not cancer and that I have had the gout for nigh on to 45 years."
So, because he can read this, he says, "Go down the hall to X-ray.  If I see anything strange, I'll call you."  Hmmm.  I paid $25.00 for this!
So, I go to X-ray, pay another $25.00, get a few pictures taken (even at my age she protects the jewels with the lead shield) and I walk away.
I don't have anything to worry about.  The prognosis is for non fatal pain - for now.
Rrinnggg...Yeah, a week later.  The doc is sending me to a speciaist in "Physical medecine."  No kidding,  Physical medecine.  As opposed to what?  Or maybe I should ask, related to what?  So, what the heck, I may as well go, even if only to find out what Physical medecine is all about.
I go.  Same routine.  This time,when she asked me how tall I am I said, "Tall enough so that my feet reach the floor."  She laughed, and when all of that was determined, I went into another 10 x 10 room.
In comes the doc.  A mere child.  Small Asian kid.  I'm thinking, "This guy ain't getting physical with me."  He's looking at me a little strangely, but I can't figure out why.  But then he shows me the famous X-rays and repeats the diagnosis, "You have arthritis."  Then he answers the obvious question, "Not too many people have arthritis in the upper back because there's not much bone movement up there."  Phew, I'm glad we got that out of the way.  I'm also glad that now I can actually celebrate the fact that I have arthritis.  I tell him that and he smiles and says, "I know why you're happy.  I was surprised to see how much better you look in person than you do on paper."
Huh?  "Yeah, when I walked in after reading the stat sheet and saw you I thought that I was in the wrong room."
So there.  Not only do I have arthritis in a weird location but I found out all about it without taking one stitch of clothes off to find out.  That's good, because if that young boy doctor would have seen me naked, he would have discovered that I look worse in person than I do on paper.

VALUE OF SUFFERING, Hmmm

There was an interesting thought that crept into my consciousness today.  I read that some one on a religious Internet site asked the question, "Is it right to ask God to cure my suffering?"  You have to admit that this is not your ordinary cute little challenging question such as makes the rounds on the Internet now and then.  You know the kind of question I mean.  The famous question about why we "get into an automobile but get on a bus."  No.  This is not a George Carlin question.  This is a real one coming from a spiritually alert person.   Not that I am saying that Carlin was not a spiritually alert person.   The reason why the question intrigues me is that if I were suffering I would not be shy about turning to God and asking Him to get me out of the situation.  This is a question that could only come from a Christian, more than likely a Catholic one at that.  But is is intriguing.  Why would anyone think that suffering is a morally proper state to live in?  Just what could a suffering person accomplish for self and for others?  I do have some ideas that I will put on the table after I make a couple of short points.
~Suffering is not synonymous with pain.  EFR Dion lived for some 40 years with daily pain.  He led a fruitful life.  I saw him suffer for one whole year, one time, but not from what was causing him the pain.  He had Rheumatic fever and it was excruciating.  Not from the pain, but from the forced inactivity.
~I have a very exciting and fiery case of gout.  Since the age of  thirty-two I have endured this painful condition. I've never missed a day's work because of it.  I have it in just about every joint known to man and woman, and I suppose, God too.  Two years ago I was flat on my glutei maximi for a couple of months.  True, for a while the pain was "killing" me.  I was suffering from the situation.  I want you all to know that I prayed that I would walk through that valley and get high enough up on the sunny side of the hill to see something toward the future.  I did.
I think that the big difference between pain and suffering is that suffering is communitarian.  It affects the whole environment.  The pain of suffering is not necessarily physical.  In some cases it attacks your wallet more than your body.  In many cases it affects your identity as it relates to your place in the world.  I was in a wheel chair for about ten or twelve weeks and I have to say that I would have swapped an extra dose of bodily pain for freedom from that Satanical instrument of torture.

Let me give you a humorous example.  Take the lad in the picture.  What he is doing is more than likely not too comfortable.  I think that there are many who could get used to the occasional visit to a bed of nails.  That would be pain.  The suffering starts when that is the only place that you have to live.  You live on top of it and store your "treasures" underneath.  Now, you and I would perhaps agree that that would be suffering.  We would perhaps also agree that it would be difficult to define a value in such a situation.  
As much as I think that it would be perfectly permissible to pray to get out of suffering in general, I have one final comment, about which we may or may not fall into accord.  The value of suffering lies in the fact that it can be offered for the good of others.  The people who care for the suffering benefit from the love that they share with the patient.  Even if, and sometimes, especially if,  he/she is an impatient, cranky, patient.  Secondly, how about the good example that the patient patient provides to the community.  We have all heard it, "That poor thing is in a bad way but you never hear a complaint."  The lesson of quiet suffering is a precious one indeed.  Let me give you a powerful example.  
The Japanese cataclysmic nuclear disaster [Fukushima] caused and is causing monumental human suffering.  Look at the pictures.  People helping one another.  All of them suffering.  All of them supportive.  Seeing that attracts peoples from around the world to offer help.  The fiercely proud Japanese person learns that suffering can be healed by a strange helping hand and heart.  Come closer to home and think of what happens when disaster strikes here.  No matter how deep and vicious the suffering, it gets calmed by the generous human interaction that it invites.  
Finally, suffering is good because it teaches the one who goes through it and comes out the other side to pitch in and try harder to be a more valuable member of the community.  In my case, this part was done for me.  The Voice from the Kitchen promised God that if He got me through it, she and I would offer the rest of our lives working for Him.  Now you know why I don't want anybody crying at my funeral.


Catholics and other Christians are invited to click here for the Religious version of this post.

BLUEBERRIES,RASPBERRIES, BLACKBERRIES AND CRANBERRIES

I just had a thought while picking about ten pounds of luscious apricots from a fairly low-hanging tree.  When I was a boy, a little boy, seven years old, my grandfather had discovered a wild blueberry patch about a half-mile away from our home.  Just as everything else in those days, this was a wild blueberry patch.  first come, first served.  Since it was August and school had not yet gone into session, my grandfather invited me to go pick blueberries with him.  So I went because I just loved being with him.  It was about 8:00 AM when we got there and we were alone.  He had given me a small beach pail for myself and had a ten quart pail for himself.  When I got there and saw how small blueberries really are, I knew right away that I was in for a very long morning.  I also immediately asked myself how my grandfather who had only one hand was going to fill that pail.
I don't think I ever had a longer, most boring, most frustrating experience in my entire life than the one that I had that day trying to fill that small beach pail.  We were out there for at least three hours.  The ten quart bucket was 3/4 full and my little pail was about the same.   I decided that I didn't like picking blueberries, not now, not ever again.  I asked my grandfather politely if we could now return to the house.  To my great relief, he acquiesced.  The only other time I ever picked a blueberry was the one I was going to eat on the fly.  Too much work for too little reward.  
The least humorous part of the story is that in the process I got closely acquainted with the viciousness of poison ivy.  I was in bed, yes, in bed, pululating all over the place.  I smelled like a leper, I think.  I can still remember the staleness of the odor.  It was the beginning of years and years of recurring poison ivy attacks on my gorgeous body.  They finally went away, about 40 years ago.  Hhmmm...I wonder if the gout made a deal with the poison ivy.  Oh well, two excellent reasons for not ever trying to pick a bucketful of blueberries.
But wait, there's more.  One day I was about 12 or 13 and I personally discovered a wild cranberry bog about one mile away from home.  I thought that I was going to give it a try because after all, cranberries are bigger than blueberries.  So, I went there with someone else, and for the life of me, I don't remember who it was.  Together, we did not do too much better than I and my grandfather had done with the blueberries.  Suffice it to say, A&P here I come.
I was thinking about this as I and the Voice from the Kitchen and I were picking apricots from this lovely low-hanging tree.  Small apricots they are, on average only about 1.5 inches in diameter.  Wow!  we picked ten pounds in about 20 minutes.  Now this, I will do again.  For all the rest, A&P, here I come.
A&P?  Huh?  A&P?  Heee!  Whassamatter, can't remember it?  It used to look just like this.

NO CLINICAL TRIALS YET ... WHA?

This is a picture of a box which contains 20 tablets of a drug which was discovered 3,100 years ago.  It is a generic form of the drug Colcys which is derived from a crocus plant and is very effective in combating the gout.  I bought a six weeks' supply for $16.00 in a country which shall remain nameless when an equivalent supply here in the United States would have cost $200.00.  I know this because my son had a prescription for such a supply.  Holy mackerel! Great guns! glory be! What happened?  I and you too must have been spared of the news that this drug had become so unsafe that millions who have been taking it around the world have been dying like flies all of a sudden.  Someone had better spread the news to the Canadians, Mexicans, Brazilians, French, English, Italians, Germans, Polish and all the rest of the world.  The United States has decided that this drug with a successful 3,100 year history is unsafe. But, wait a minute, this same country which really cares for people, has assured ONE company that IT,and IT alone in the entire country may continue to manufacture the drug in its purest form.  All the rest must cease and desist until further notice.  Thank you, Uncle Sam.  You've saved millions of lives and left millions more unable to buy the one drug that can prevent them from missing uncounted millions of hours from work because they can't get out of bed due to infernally painful gout flare-ups.  We thank you, Uncle Sam for taking all the kickback money that this has, and will undoubtedly continue to flow into the coffers of your government personnel.  It is so comforting to know that you have found the wisdom to make a judgement on a 3,100 year old drug, a judgement that no other government on the face of the earth has yet to make.  We here in the United States are so largely blessed to have such a caring parent willing to pull us under his pinions and protect us from such potential harm as is suspected of this unstudied, clinically untested substance.  
I'm left with some questions:
If colcrys had not been found, would the Babylonians have been able to conquer Palestine?
How about if Alexander the Great had not been able to control his gout with colcrys?
Oh, the Romans too...Jerusalem might not have fallen except for colcrys.
Do you suppose that Ghengis Khan would have been so successful had he not known about colcrys?
How about Napoleon? Ben Franklin and a host of others?  Do you suppose that Alexander the Great died young because of an overdose of colcrys?
I have one final question.  Do you suppose that a small Tea Party type government like say, an Arab Emirate, or a Lebanese Dictatorship or a Jordanian Kingdom would take a bribe and monopolize the manufacture and sale of a 3,100 year old drug because it had not yet been clinically tested?   HHMmmmm?