Sine nomine

I have just begun a new exercise routine. Even though I knew I often went days without climbing stairs , I was shocked to find out how winded I became and how much my leg muscles quivered after slogging up a few flights of stairs behind my nimble footed younger daughter. She lives on the third floor of a brownstone and scampers up and down the stairs to the subway at least twice a day. She runs up to 8 miles at a stretch, so of course her legs are very strong. I have become a marshmallow. To remedy my sad physical state, I've bumped up my walking speed and increased my distance. When I visit my dear old mother at the hospital, I now take the stairs up to the third floor. Last night (day 4), my poor old body was seriously objecting to the new regime. My knees creaked, my hips groaned and my feet ached. I am happy to say that 8 hours spent in the horizontal position helped immensely. Today I wore my clunkier, but better supporting boots with their pricey Shock Doctor inserts. I wonder how many insoles they sell to aging boomers versus the young jocks portrayed in their ads.

I also want to start dieting but I know that I get mentally weird when I diet. Right now is not a good time to get mentally weird seeing as this is an intense time of year for patients. The two weeks on either side of Mother's Day are among the busiest of the year for headshrinkers. All the ambivalence about mom, the repressed or not so repressed hostility toward mom, the unmet dependency needs, and resentment about being dominated or even abused all come to the surface. People can't avoid the displays of sappy cards which extol the virtues of motherhood. Some become enraged because they were gypped. Instead of the ideal mom, they got a brutal alcoholic, depriving, cold, rejecting or insane model.

Of course, there are those whose moms have died. Grieving is such an uneven process. One woman's mom died two years ago this month. She took mom into her own home for the last years of her life. Her three brothers were pretty useless when mom was alive, but they swore to her they would pay for their mom's headstone. There is still no headstone and left up to them, there probably never will be. Her husband suggested they order one and then oversee its placement in the cemetery in her home town. He plans to take a lawn chair for her and leave her alone at her mother's grave. Her instructions will be to have a good long snot-running cry and to take all the time she needs. He'll stay away until she phones.

Speaking of moms, mine is still enjoying the afterglow of her birthday. It was a splendid day. She seems, however, to have slipped mentally again. Perhaps she was mustering up all her resources for her birthday. Twice in the past few days she has gotten very confused about what time it was. She can't quite explain what happened. I suspect she gets her days and nights confused. Today I asked her if she knew what month it was. Long pause. I tell her it's the month after her birth month. Another long pause. I ask if she remembers what month she was born in. Tears well up. She can't remember. I tell her it was April and ask what month comes next. She knows that May comes next.

I took a week off from reading when I was on vacation. It was a good idea since I could really tell the difference in my thinking when I returned to work. Right now I am finishing Milton H. Erickson MD: An American Healer. All in all it's been quite interesting. I find it curious that only three of his eight children contributed to the book. Included was the diary Erickson kept of a 1200 mile solo canoe trip he made when he was twenty to strengthen his body after a nearly fatal bout of polio which left him paralyzed.

I'm also reading Adventures in Missing the Point, by Tony Campolo and Brian McLaren which looks seriously at the cultured-controlled church. The book got some flack when it came out several years ago, but considering what they could say, they are quite generous towards their fellow Christians. For something completely different, I am also enjoying Christopher Buckley's clever political satire Boomsday.

My newest musical discoveries are the elegant violinist Joseph Suk (grandson of the Czech composer), the energetic young cellist Jian Wang, and the folk/alt group Hem.