posted by admin on Apr 20
Ionce knew a strong, healthy grandmother, 72 years young, who lived an active life, driving her friends to club meetings and to the store, working part time, running errands for her sickly neighbors. One day she told me she had had a cold for three weeks; it simply wouldn’t go away. When it persisted, I insisted she be thoroughly checked out. The diagnosis was grim: leukemia, a cancer of the white blood cells.
I visited her in the hospital every day, horrified at the rapid progress of the disease. This once-vibrant woman lay in bed, too weak to move, mouth agape, eyes dull. Shortly before she died she said to me, “I was so healthy. Why did I get sick?” Unable to answer her question, I turned away, tears in my eyes. I had no answers for her. Neither could I offer any help. It was especially painful because this woman was my mother.
Like many people of her generation, she never thought about health or illness. Health was something you took for granted— until you lost it. Today we have a different approach, taught to us by painful experience. We’re learning that health is a treasure to be guarded, a single, precious flower to nurture and protect. The good gardener is rewarded with a wonderful harvest of health and happiness.
Ironically, we can thank disease for forcing us to focus our attention on health. In my 28 years of practicing medicine I’ve seen scares come and go. Fears of tuberculosis and polio were replaced by fright over heart disease and cancer. A new scourge, herpes, came into the picture in the early 1980s. Herpes hysteria had hardly settled down before it was nearly swept aside by the panic over AIDS (acquired immune-deficiency syndrome) and other immune-system diseases. New diseases seem to be popping out of thin air. Some of them we learn to cure. Others we can’t.
The patients who come to my office every day are frightened. “What’s going to get me?” they wonder. A heart attack? Cancer? A stroke? Diabetes? Will I be crippled by arthritis or made helpless by Alzheimer’s disease? Will I wind up in a hospital or a rest home, unable to care for myself?
Recently, a very attractive 39-year-old businesswoman, the sales director for a national cosmetic company, sat in my office nervously rubbing one hand against the other. The divorced parent of a ten-year-old boy, she travels extensively on business.
“You know what it’s like, Dr. Fox,” she said. “You get to a city, you’re running around all day; at night you go to your hotel, and you’re lonely. So you’ve got a ‘boyfriend’ you see 10, 12 times a year, or maybe you meet someone at a hotel. I don’t jump into bed with any guy, but I’m not married and I get lonely on the road. But not any more. I’ve been getting away from that in the past six months. I’m so scared of getting sick, of catching something that will wreck my immune system. I don’t care how lonely I get, I’m not doing it anymore. Not until they figure out a way to protect you from all those diseases you can catch. Not just AIDS, but all of them.”
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