Women's Wellness Blog: 2012

We are poised on the precipice of destruction. Armageddon is but a moment away.

What could possibly initiate such depressing diatribes? I walked into my house the other day and found my youngest daughter watching something on TV called "Here Comes Honey Boo Boo" and I have no better explanation than the end is near. For the gleefully uninitiated, this latest entry into the moronic genre of reality TV follows a pack of genetically inbred humans who literally live on the wrong side of the tracks as their domicile sits precariously next to a railroad crossing. The family, and I use the term with caution, consists of a grossly obese, foul mouthed mother who gives new meaning to the words trailer trash. I think most folks who live in trailers would be offended to be in the same category as this behemoth. She constantly delights us with such admonitions as "Huh?" and "I'm going to kick your a--" , reinforcing the fact that you can reproduce like a rabbit with only the equivalence of the rabbit's intelligence. I'm sure there are some redeeming values to this woman, yet the producers seem content to portray her as a monolith to idiocy. The seventeen year old daughter is pregnant and single...of course. I wonder if she got knocked up at the request of the show's sponsors to fulfill some stereotypical portrayal of the southern adolescent; however, after she opened her mouth it was clear that she needed no coaxing to go forth and multiply. The husband (I assume they are married) is a good ole country boy whose major contribution to the show is to provide bizarre pets for the family. The episode I saw had him purchasing and delivering a tea cup pig to the clan to cheer up Honey Boo Boo after losing a glitz pageant. The problem was after about ten minutes it became difficult to distinguish between the kids and the pig. The "star" and show's namesake is a chubby child who gained fame on Toddlers and Tiaras, that chronicle of legalized child abuse. She had the camera men laughing so hard in one episode that one fell off his dolly, probable the closest she will ever come to sweeping someone off their feet. There is nothing more enticing then seeing a 6 year old grab a handful of her generous belly fat and say, "How ya like my jelly belly?" It makes me want to run right out and buy the Girl's Club a Twinkie farm. This poor child is destined to be one of those kids sitting in the clock tower of some university with a Kalashnikov taking pot shots at passersby. I can't even imagine the psychological effect she may experience viewing this show after puberty and having to face other middle schoolers, who are known for their compassionate ways. Personally I think both the producers and the parents should be brought up on charges of child endangerment for relegating this child to a lifetime of ridicule, but I guess if you name one child Pumpkin and the other Honey Boo Boo you haven't really set the bar too high. As I watched, I found myself praying that these caricatures would be from Texas, Mississippi, or some other Southern state that could handle the abuse. Anything but Georgia. We are still reeling from the Deliverance stereotype and that was more than 40 years ago. I still have some friends in Vermont ask me every now and then if I would squeal like a pig. I cringed in disgust as a sign burst onto the screen, "Welcome to McIntyre, Georgia" followed by the family standing proudly by their railroad squatting house. This happy domestic tranquility was interrupted by one of the darling daughters passing gas louder than a passing train whistle. Just what Georgia needs, another TV portrayal of the result of multiple generations marrying their relatives. The episode I was forced to watch, sort of like coming onto the scene of a terrible car wreck, involved multiple vignettes, including the Redneck Games and a glitz pageant. The Redneck games consisted of a variety of "competitions" ranging from belly flops in a mud pit (and believe me, no one got hurt because there was enough belly on most to cushion a massive direct blow) to bobbing for pigs feet. I don't know why they just didn't pass out antibiotics for the inevitable Salmonella poisoning but I suspect no self respecting bacteria would have anything to do with these folk's bodies. Honey Boo Boo and her clan participated in various events but seem to relish wallowing in the mud pit above all else. The irony and symbolism was not lost on me or most of the audience I am sure. In a global, Internet connected world where people in Uzbekistan can view the same shows as someone in Milledgeville, it seems somewhat important that there be some standards for transmission. Now I am a First Amendment guy and censorship is tantamount to blasphemy, but maybe we can limit what shows up on cable by clicking right on past Honey Boo Boo and keep such garbage off the airwaves. Then all we will be left with is a moronic show about rich mutants who have the same IQ as their Southern brethren called The Kardashians.

Just as President Obama’s beliefs on homosexual marriage have “evolved” so my feelings about the run/walk/run method of training has evolved. He originally felt that marriage was between a man and a woman but once his enlightened and all wise 10 year old daughter opened his eyes, he evolved to an understanding that it didn’t matter whether you were married to a man, a woman, a sheep, or a park bench, as long as you were committed and shared a passion for loving, you should be able to live together as “married”. I didn’t need a child prodigy to help me in my revelation on training methods, just a book and aging joints. As maturity and age has taken reigns of my running career I have decided that my goals are not to set personal records (PR in runner jargon) but to simply enjoy and survive. I want to be running marathons, albeit very slowly, at age 80. I would rather be a spindly old codger out there still searching for the porta potties, at a much more frequent rate mind you, then watching on the sidelines. It means nothing to me now to say I did a sub 4 hour marathon if it resulted in a limitation of longevity. Instead of going by the adage, live fast, die young, and leave a good looking corpse, I want to live slow, die ancient, and leave a corpse that has 15% body fat and blisters from my last long run. So that brings me back to the run/walk/run training method for distance runners. This is a concept created and made popular by running guru Jeff Galloway, author, Olympian, and all around good guy who has been training marathoners for many years. He is convinced after working with countless runners of all shapes, sizes, and ages that the key to staying injury free is to allow for multiple brief rest breaks throughout a training run. These walk breaks are in a ratio to time run, for example, I have been doing a 5/1 ration meaning that I run for 5 minutes and then walk a minute. To the purest this sounds like complete heresy, tantamount to a politician telling the truth for a few seconds in between his regular spouting of lies, but it all depends on your goals. If you want to run for the rest of your life then this is a good method. If you want to set age group records then stick to your maniacal training and I will visit you in the old folks home after your knee replacement. Actually Galloway claims that many of his devotees actually complete a marathon faster using this method than with the traditional run until you drop philosophy. The idea is that you lose only a few seconds per mile with the walk breaks and can more than compensate with a slightly increased pace during the running phase. I have not been able to achieve that level of accomplishment yet, but my times have not been much different. the biggest difference I have noticed is how I feel the next day after a long run. In the past, a twenty miler would require a shelf load of Motrin, ice packs and going down stairs backwards for a few days. Now with run/walk/run I feel as spry as Neal Patrick Harris in a show tunes revue the next day and have even gone for a short run to get the juices flowing. This was inconceivable with my prior training methods and I have seen my times stay essentially the same. Call it maturity or dumb luck, but I am a believer in this method of training. The hardest part is applying this technique during a race. I only use this method in the marathon as for me it doesn’t really apply with shorter distances. The challenge is to use the ratio from the very beginning of the race. Galloway and his minions are adamant that for proper benefit you must begin the alternating strides from the first mile on. Anyone who has participated in a large marathon (i.e. Chicago, New York etc) realize that stopping to walk in the first few miles is setting yourself up for shoe marks up your back as the stampeding hoard propels forward like a swarm of locusts on the Oklahoma prairie. Most big city marathons are run on paved streets and there is usually space on the fringes by the curbs that allow for walking; however, in some, such as Boston, the route is populated from the beginning with crazed spectators lining the roads sometimes 4 deep. So not only is there the psychological barrier to early walking in a race, but also the physical restraints of how to do it that must be overcome. I remember thinking many times when seeing a fellow marathoner walking before even the first mile is traversed that this poor fool will never make 26.2 miles if he is already walking because in the past I would only walk when my legs were threatening to go on strike if I didn’t. At the time I didn’t know this was a strategy for longevity and simply interpreted it as poor preparation and bad luck. I got a hint that there was something else going on however as I began to notice these walkers passing me during the running phase of their approach, only over time to stay so far ahead thatI would not even come close to catching them as they hit their next walk break. Maybe there was something there I thought through my fatigued and foggy brain. Once I adopted the run/walk/run method, I now gladly join these early race walkers and glance at them with a knowing smile and mutter”Galloway?” to their smiling acknowledgement. We have become a brethren understanding the benefits of lasting exertion at the expense of hip replacements and pot bellies. We are the running Gnostics challenging the orthodoxy convinced that our knowledge based on experience and a willingness to experiment will be our running salvation. I did a twenty miler yesterday using the run/walk/run method and this morning I am getting to go on a bike ride with my wife. Not bad for a 53 year old, but hey, I’ve still got 30 years of running in me.

There are a few icons of modern history that stimulate instant recognition with just their first names. Say Elvis, Madonna, Cher, Prince (or whatever he is this week), or Beyonce and instantly visions of celebrity and notoriety flood your frontal lobes. No one, however, can hold a pork chop to everyone’s big sister, Oprah. The O has put the pro in promotion and has redefined the cult of personality. To be sure, this is a very smart, savvy businessperson who knows her audience; an audience predominately of women who look to her for advice on everything from books to feminine hygiene products. It is hard to underestimate her influence with TV face time, magazines, webpages, production companies, and who knows what other media outlets at her disposal. One would naively assume that with this influence would come a degree of responsibility to provide information that was truthful, factual, and well researched. Unfortunately this is not the case specifically as it applies to her obsession with health related topics. No one particularly cares if she recommends one shampoo over another, but promoting sham science and bogus medical treatments are a whole other kettle of new age fish.
One merely has to peruse a list of her famously marketed “experts” to quickly surmise that entertainment trumps education. One of the most celebrated experts is the blustering cowboy philosopher Dr.Phil McGraw. Dr.Phil rocketed to fame as the jury selection expert and personal consultant to the O during her spat with the beef bourgeoisie. He describes himself as “ the worst marriage counselor in America” and got out of the practice of psychology because “he got tired of whiney patients.” With his Oprah appearances and such captivating medical terminology as “get real” and “that dog don’t hunt” he now commands a medical empire consisting of books, treatment centers, web sites, and of course his own TV show. While many reputable folks in the counseling business label him more an entertainer than a counselor, at least he does have some background and credentials peripherally related to his professed expertise. Where I find fault is his mutation as an expert into all things health. This is a common practice in the juggernaut that is the self help money making machine; gain notoriety in one area and use that influence to morph into an expert in everything else. For example, on his website Dr.Phil spouts advice from obstetrics to weight control. No where do I see any evidence that he has been in a delivery room other than with his own kids. Granted every celebrity from Suzanne Somers to the O herself has a weight loss book, but does the fact that you did your PhD thesis on "Rheumatoid Arthritis: A Psychological Intervention" qualify you to give advice on losing weight? His over reliance on new age philosophies and soft science also colors his medical advice. Dr.Phil, stick to gotcha pop psychology and we will all be healthier for it.
Depak Chopra is another Oprah visionary who literally owned the New Age medical world in the 1990s. The western trained endocrinologist cornered the market by combining Hindu precepts, ancient Indian Ayurvedic traditions, and western medicine in a conflagration of philosophy stew that promised perfect health if you could only balance your chakras. He is one of the most dangerous purveyors of silly science because of his respectable credentials. He is a medical doctor for goodness sakes, so he has to be right about doshas, past lives, and primary forces. He is absolutely right about one thing, there is a Sanskrit size fortune to be made in the alternative medical world. Now I am a proponent of integrative medicine, but I expect herbs, vitamins, and health practices to have a certain standard of proof and empirical evidence to back it up. Justifying a practice by saying it has been around for 5000 years, as Chopra does, is as fallacious as saying monkey root cures cancer because it was used by Sub Saharan witch doctors for centuries. Don’t just “Chopra me the money”, show me the evidence! The big O touted Chopra as a high priest of alternative medicine in the nineties as he was turning out books with more voracity than Bill Clinton was chasing interns. The insidious nature of his approach, picking bits and pieces of truths and combining them with dubious ideas, is a classic approach of sham artists and signals a screeching alarm on the rube radar.
Suzanne Somers, the bouncing, brainless beauty of Three’s Company fame, was launched as a hormone health expert by the Oprah machine in 2009. She is another example of dangerous, misleading, downright ignorant ravings sanctioned by the diva of afternoon talk fests. If it’s on Oprah...it’s got to be true! Nowhere is this deservedly lampooned more than with Ms. Somers. Completely lacking in credentials and medical education the huckster of hormones reports miraculous transformations with her “scientifically proven” bio-identical regimens. Again, the pattern of combing truths with fabrications muddies the healing waters and creates a worrisome pseudoscientific approach to a very complex subject. There are medical doctors and researchers who have spent a lifetime meticulously sorting out the proper use and abuse of hormones only to be usurped by a buxom blond whose cache of endorsements are in the millions. I don’t have the time or column space to debunking the hapless Somerisms (for another day) but she is the poster child of why Oprah has infected medicine.
The current Oprah fave on the medical front is the affable Dr.Oz. Mehmet Oz is a heart surgeon who actually began as a legitimate TV consultant. Unfortunately he has been transformed into a cheerleader for alternative, often unproven, medical practices. He still gives good advice, especially in the realm of his expertise, but much of his repartee has become infused with new ageisms and pop psychology. As he has gone from occasional guest to having his own show, those around him (probably the O) have explained the reality of TV. It’s entertainment first, and everything else is window dressing. When you have to be concerned about ratings and advertisers you do whatever it takes to keep the masses happy, and that often means giving air time to fractious fads and quick fixes. Of all the Oprah flock, he is the least egregious, yet with an audience of millions, you have to be better than half right...you have to be responsible.
I believe Oprah sincerely believes in some of the medical silliness she promotes so the onus lies in her audience to be critical consumers. Don’t be a gullible gawker, lapping up Dr. Oprah’s pronouncements like a frat boy at a keg party. Be a skeptic. Do your own research. Talk to your doctor. In the end, nobody cares about your health more than you, not even the O.

Government Gone Wild!

Recently the U.S. Preventive Services Task Force made some egregious recommendations regarding Pap smears which should not go unchallenged. In essence, this supposed advisory body stated that women over thirty could go five years without a Pap if they have a negative prior Pap and a negative HPV test. Let me say at the outset, so there is no confusion, that this recommendation has about as much validity as an Elvis sighting in Afghanistan. Let me explain.
Any recommendation, whether it is to brush your teeth everyday or not to pull on the cape of the Lone Ranger, is only as reliable as the organization issuing it. You can’t separate the message from the messenger in this respect. The Preventive Services Task Force Cabal consists of 16 primary care doctors, nurses, epidemiologists and statisticians that was originally established in 1984 to “develop recommendations for primary care clinicians on the appropriate content of periodic health examinations.”1 Since then, this government appointed “advisory” council has morphed into a ridiculously powerful de facto regulatory commission that issues edits that make presidential proclamations look like casual suggestions. In other words, these 16 ivory tower, number crunching bureaucrats set policy that is adopted by Medicare, Medicaid, and many private insurers as gospel. They have been granted new and yet undefined power with the passage of President Obama’s new health care law as they now wield Czar like status when it comes to what the government deems appropriate for your health. This group is never far from controversy as they are the same fun bunch that recommended a reduced frequency for mammograms and scoffed at PSA screenings for prostate cancer. From breasts to behinds, it seems these guys have their finger in everything. Let’s just say it is a bit scary for 16 strangers to determine what is in your best interest about anything, much less your health.
As to not be accused of beating a straw man or tossing out an ad hominem attack, what about the actual recommendations? The PSTF says that any woman over 30 who has a normal Pap and a negative test for Human Papillomavirus can elect to not have any additional testing for 5 years. This is based on population studies that in their own words include a “cost/benefit analysis.” In bureaucrat speak that means a “can the government save money if we do it this way” analysis. Lost in this analysis is the law of unintended consequences. One of the main reasons a woman has a yearly exam is to undergo a Pap smear. In the minds of many women no Pap means no exam, and this is not only wrong thinking but dangerous. During an annual well woman exam there are a number of assessments and screenings that are done that have nothing to do with a Pap smear. The American Cancer Society has long championed a yearly breast exam as an early detection tool for breast cancer. Millions of lives have been saved by the early detection of a variety of illnesses from breast cancer to heart disease found or prevented by a yearly check up. Studies show that many of these illnesses would have gone undetected or progressed to a dangerous stage if not for regular exams, which would drastically decrease if you follow the wisdom of the health Czars. (unintended consequences) Yearly exams for both men and women save lives and the government can’t debate that.
It is critical to make the distinction between cancer detection and prevention. Mammograms do nothing to prevent cancer. They can detect it if it already has occurred and that dramatically improves the survival rate, but mammograms haven’t ever prevented a single breast cancer. On the contrary, Pap smears do prevent cervical cancer, a cancer that kills 4000 women every year. The Pap is one of the few screening tests that detect a pre-cancer stage where the treatment is relatively minor and can prevent an abnormal cell from ever becoming a cancer. A Pap is true prevention and has been lauded as one of the greatest public health successes of the past 100 years. Is it worth rationing this preventive tool to help meet government budgets?
The one kudo I can give this committee is recognizing the importance of HPV in the screening for cervical cancer. Substantial numbers of cervical cancers are caused by HPV, yet I have an issue with their recommendations even regarding this. If a woman is sexually active she can contract HPV at any point; it is literally epidemic in people under 50. Waiting 5 years between testing is giving this virus way to much time to reek its havoc on cervical cells.
What’s the take home message? Simply don’t fall prey to the government rationers and discuss your individual situation with your doctor. Together you can decide what is in your best interest.

I ran twenty one yesterday. Twenty one miles. It was my last long training run before the Charleston Marathon in three weeks. It was also the eve of Christmas Eve, so my thoughts were on credit card bills, virgin births and such. During the run I listened to a podcast about the Dead Sea Scrolls, ( I can hear you now, “This guy has no life!”) and I was thinking about what life might have been like in first century Palestine. It was not an easy existence by any stretch of the word, and I find it fascinating and helpful to place the events of the time in context. Jesus was born into a world very different from ours. The first thing that struck me as interesting, in the context of ancient civilization, was the virgin birth. As an obstetrician I am particularly challenged by the idea that the normal biological pathways were bypassed and the physiological problems that entails. Contrasted to our time, claims of virgin births were relatively common place in the ancient world. Alexander the Great as touted as being the result of a virgin birth as were various Egyptian pharaohs and Greek kings. It may not have been as nearly an implausible claim in first century Jerusalem as it is in twenty-first century America. It seems as the virgin birth is more of a question of faith today than in ancient times. And make no mistake, it is an issue of faith. Try as skeptics may, they can never prove or disprove such a claim from antiquity. Yes, the science doesn’t follow the prescripts for it happening that way, but faith supersedes science and becomes a matter of belief. I used to think there had to be agreement between science and faith, after all both have as their end product truth; yet, I have come to see that these are different realms. Science in its purest form can never make claims on issues of faith because science by definition deals with the natural, and faith by definition deals with things of the supernatural. Science measures, categorizes, analyzes things we can see, touch, and observe; whereas, faith grows, explains, and illuminates things that are unseen and unmeasureable. The virgin birth is a stumbling block for the skeptic precisely because they are only allowing science to be the arbitrator of truth. If one begins the argument a priori that there is nothing beyond the natural, then of course a virgin birth is myth and fallacy. However if one realizes that the question of the validity of such an occurrence lies outside the realm of science and only can be answered in the realm of faith, then a consistent conclusion can be made. Science and faith are not mutually exclusive, yet they govern different universes. One does not disprove or prove another, and at the end of the day they can actually be complimentary as they are both interested in the truth.
The danger of intellectualization is that it makes it easy to miss the essence - the gestalt - of an event or person. Reductionism does the same thing. Minimizing something to its constituent parts may relay some understanding of function, but rarely gives any indication of purpose. When I train for a marathon, I purposely employ a reductionist attitude, dissecting the 26.2 miles to its most literal and basic components, placing one foot in front of the other. However, if I simply viewed running a marathon as placing several thousand steps in a sequence I would completely obfuscate any sense of purpose. Likewise intellectualization of Scripture may serve a purpose for scholars and critics; however, it can also cannibalize an understanding of meaning from a faith perspective. This is not to say that the study of Scripture cannot be a challenging intellectual exercise. It most certainly is. Just as science and faith are not mutually exclusive, so a thinking person’s examination of Scripture is not exclusive to cloaking the pursuit in the fabric of faith. I heard a wonderful story recently that illustrates this. A young man wanted to learn how to dance, so he went to the bookstore and bought a book on dance instruction. He studied this book day and night, memorizing the various steps, down to the precise foot placement for each. After hours of practice he proudly went to his wife and proclaimed that he was now a proficient dancer, thanks to his meticulous study and practice. He sat her down and proceeded to demonstrate his proficiency by waltzing through various sequences and moves. At the conclusion he awaited her appraisal. She looked at him lovingly and said,”That was wonderful, yet it was lacking two very important things.” Stunned he asked what he could have possibly left out. She simple replied, “ Me and the music.” You can memorize, analyze, and perfect the mechanics of something, knowing it in great detail and with faultless scholarship, but unless you hear the music, unless you see the purpose, unless you understand the why, you will only be going through the motions.
I think running is a great metaphor for faith. I can read a book about running. I can even run in a few races, but if I don’t understand why I run, I quickly become distracted, bored, and unmotivated. Likewise if I simply analyze faith, dissect theology and reduce it to textural criticism or biblical exegesis,and even at times put my faith into action, but don’t take the time to ponder what faith is and why it is important to me, I can easily find myself confused, detached, and even disillusioned. If I know why I run, I can do it with joy even when challenged by time, setting, and desire. If I know why I believe, I can persist in that belief in times of challenge, confusion, and isolation.
An overused but valid metaphor is that faith is like a marathon. As a marathoner this comparison takes on a deeper meaning, and has actually helped me understand a bit more of why faith is unique and important. It also has deepened my appreciation for the individual yet collective nature of faith. Let me explain. I have run twenty 26.2 mile races so far , and each one has been a unique experience. Each mile was over different terrain, each water stop was operated by a different crowd, each finisher’s medal was colorfully created. Yet in spite of these singular events, so uniquely emblazoned in my memory, there was a confluence of commonality that existed in each race. Each one was precisely the same distance, each one was prefaced by a runner’s expo highlighting the myriad of services and products available to runners, and each was run by hundreds if not thousands of like minded souls with a story unto themselves as to why they were there. Likewise, faith is a singularly experienced phenomenon, special to each one who professes such, but bathed in a sea of common experiences and understandings. What is miraculous about one’s faith is that it can exist and flourish along its own path yet still be true to greater universal truths. This is illustrated by the various machinations surrounding baptism. The overarching truth is that baptism is a ritual that symbolizes cleansing from sin yet it can be experienced along a spectrum of sprinkling to lake immersion. This is characteristic of so many of our faith based rituals. We must always remember to not miss the music for the notes.
Like a marathon, faith takes endurance and time. Faith matures with knowledge, experience, study, and application and in a marathon you survive by practice, education, drive, and persistence. There is a point in every marathon, the proverbial wall, where physical and mental boundaries have to be breached. Many a competitor has been reduced to a mere shuffle or walk by the exhaustion of glycogen that can rob your muscles of energy. Likewise, inevitably in every persons faith walk they hit a time or event that challenges even the most well trained and weathered believer. In the race you have to prepare for this inevitability and devise a plan to overcome it or you will be reduced to a mental and physical wasteland that is daunting to cross over. In our faith walk, we must prepare for the “dark night of the soul” that is inevitable in our fallen world. We must also prepare for this by seeing how those around us and in history have negotiated such faith challenging times. Just as I rely on the teachings and experience of runners from long ago, so scripture and tradition serves as a template for navigating the Siren filled waters of spiritual confusion.
If I was a missionary to China, I would greatly increase both my effectiveness and enjoyment by learning to speak Chinese. Learning the jargon, speaking the language facilitates understanding and effective communication, so using analogies and metaphors, like running, helps me frame my understanding of faith. Jesus understood that saying something outright is not often the most effective tool for teaching. We must also acknowledge that our language capabilities sometimes pale to adequately describe or convey the meaning of a feeling, place, or event. Jesus was forever describing the kingdom of heaven “as” or “like” something we could understand and find meaning in. I find meaning in running, so I embrace the metaphors as a way of deepening my understanding of my faith. You may find purpose in quilting, ( or any of a thousand things) so I would encourage you to meditate on ways of relating what juices you to your religious beliefs. We learn by comparisons and there is no better comparison than something that holds meaning.

Marathon musings
by: reaker

I’ve been thinking a great deal about the empty nest lately. Not some lament over a missing bird but what happens when your kids either leave home voluntarily or are forced out by court order. (“Gee mom, so I am 35 and still living at home. Have you seen what it is like out there?)

I’ve been thinking about this life transition because my wife and I are about 536 days 7 hours and 22 minutes away from being alone in the house, and I felt it was never too early to begin making plans. Not that I am counting the minutes, but let’s just say I have set my alarms on my cell phone to play “Happy Days are Here Again” on that fateful Saturday morning in 2013. Don’t get me wrong, I love my daughters with all my heart and soul, and I have cherished every minute we have been together, but being able to take a shower without wading through leg razors and bras does have its appeal.

I am fascinated by the response I get whenever anyone realizes Susan and I will soon be alone. 99% of folks say something like, “What are you going to do with yourself?” as if I have had the kids as my personal assistants all these years scheduling meetings and making dinner reservations for me. As a perfectly capable yet aging baby boomer, I have no doubt that I will be able to fill my time with mundane activities like work and sleep.

Empty Nest syndrome comes from the nesting habits of various bird species. Generally what happens is the daddy bird gets tired of all the chirping and tells the kids to either fly or fall 20 feet to their death, and then he unceremoniously shoves them out of the nest. In response to this action the mother bird generally has a nervous breakdown and takes the daddy bird to court. I must admit I do see some parallels but realistically the analogy breaks down on several levels. First, the bird children are not really given many options about leaving the nest. They don’t stay until they have grown so big they take over dad’s favorite perch, and they don’t tell dad that they just need to find themselves before they learn to fly. They just leave. And surprisingly they usually don’t come back. Most get their undergraduate degree in worm harvesting and then begin scavenging on their own. You don’t see multitudes of junior birdies negotiating with the parents to let them get two graduate degrees and a PhD while they hang loose in the nest. The concept of boomerang birds are lost on most species of winged creatures (unlike the “go out and come back” so common in Homo sapiens) All in all, the only similarity I see between birds, nests, and humans is the mamma bird, like their human counterpart, is the boss of the home, and dad sings a much happier tune the sooner he realizes that.

For the past eighteen years my wife and I’s life has been directed by our children, and neither of us would have wanted it any other way. It is a season of life we will cherish and look back on with fond memories, like the time Caroline, our youngest, was riding in the grocery cart at the supermarket and belted out in a voice that could be heard in two counties distant, “Mommy, look at all the food in that fat lady’s cart!” And it turned out she was referring to a lady who happened to be a patient of mine... or she was before that happened. And neither of us will ever forget Katie playing nurse with all the neighborhood children, using feminine napkins as bandages! I thought is was very appropriate for a gynecologist’s kid, but her mother was not as impressed, especially when her friends went home wrapped in all the “bandages”.

We were thinking the other day about our social network and realized that virtually all of our friends and acquaintances are the parents of our kid’s friends. This is how it often goes as you literally have no time to develop other social connections. As a parent you are always at cheerleading practice, gymnastics meets, and play productions. The last thing my wife and I did totally on our own was an impeach Clinton rally and wine tasting. We just don’t socialize much outside the domain of our kids, so that aspect of our life will indeed change. Maybe we can rent some kids who have interesting friends and hope their parents aren’t swingers or chemical engineers. That’s not to imply that chemical engineers are loathsome, but I just can’t make small talk about the second law of thermodynamics. I suspect Susan will have to take charge of our post kids social life as I am an incurable introvert. Going to a holiday party for me is like pouring hydrochloric acid into a festering leg wound. Okay that may be a bit overstating it, but I generally would rather sit by a cozy fire reading a good biography than discussing the ins and outs of carpet manufacturing with a semi drunk reveler. Thank goodness my wife has the social graces of the Queen of England and is a friend to all she meets or I would never get invited anywhere. I realize that for us to survive the empty nest, I will have to compromise my monastic ways and become a party animal, as long as the party animal is home by 9:30!

There are some things I would like to do once I cross into the land of the empty nesters. For example, I would love to travel to somewhere that doesn’t involve a mouse , a fairy princess, or diaper changing stations at every water fountain. Both my kids have been to Europe...twice! I went to a football game in Lincoln County. I would love to take my wife to places with names like Hedonism and Hedonism II, as long as we get to keep our clothes on and don’t have to “swing” with Marty and Thelma Dusseldorf from Lancaster, Maine. I want to see the wonders of the modern world like the RV museum in Elkhart, Indiana, the world’s tallest Jesus statue in Eureka Springs, Arkansas, or the naked bookstore owner in Quartzite, Arizona. I want to experience the thrill of white water rafting and getting out of bed without something hurting. I want to run a marathon in every state and live to write about it. And I want to travel to see the grandkids one of these days, hopefully far, far into the future!

I am looking forward to getting reacquainted with my wife, Susan. This remarkable woman has spent the last eighteen years raising some pretty terrific kids and still been able to maintain at least some of her sanity. She is just as beautiful today as she was 22 years ago when I first met her and all without being nipped, tucked, or Botoxed! I see the empty nest years as a time to remember and rekindle why we decided to bring these little whippersnappers into the world in the first place. Let’s be honest, after two kids and eighteen years of diapers, drama, and dresses most of us are fat, fatigued, and frigid. Not my bride. She has worked hard at preserving her well being by running, aerobisizing, and knowing when to call it quits and pour a glass of Chardonnay. We have some catching up to do, and I am looking forward to those quiet nights sitting by the fire staying up late because we want to and not because we have to, waiting on some over sexed adolescent to deliver our daughter home from her date.

I believe the goal of every parent is to raise a healthy, happy child who is capable of forging their own way in the world. In that context, the achievement of empty nest stature should be a celebration of a job well done. When those baby birds are pushed out of the nest and they not only fly but they soar, you can rest assured that you have done your best to fulfill your parental obligations. There is no more satisfying sound to a parent than a child saying, “I can make it on my own now.” It is our pathology that tends to cling and not let go. I can understand the instinct that wants to protect and troubleshoot for the rest of their lives, but who is really served by that? A child needs love and attention always and forever, but that doesn’t mean they need you to constantly provide three squares and a cot. Remember, a prison does that just as well, and in a way, a perpetual stay at home child is in a form of prison if they never become self sufficient. Celebrate your independence! Look forward to a new season of your life. Wear your underwear around the house on Sunday morning without fear of gross out comments from your teenager. Know that you have prepared the fruits of your loins to venture into the vast wasteland of humanity armed with the resourcefulness of a TV evangelist, the morals of Mother Teresa, and the education costing the gross national product of a small African country.

You ask if I am ready for the empty nest? My answer is, “You bet I am”. Now bring on the Metamucil and Polident!

About the Author

Ron Eaker

Popular Posts

Blog Archive

Label Cloud

Contact Us

Search This Blog

Subscribe

Popular Posts

Popular Posts