Dr. Lisa's Bountiful Life

Fertile Ground

I come from an unusually large family.

My parents had ten children in sixteen years, including one set of twins.

I was the oldest.

Raised in a suburban Maine town, mine was not an experience shared by many.

That my parents were so obviously fertile caused me no end of embarrassment as a youngster.

“Another one?” my schoolmates would ask. “How many kids do your parents plan on having, anyway?” I could not answer that question until after my youngest brother was born during the autumn of my senior year in high school.

Ten. That was the final number.

Though I had often suggested that I would never have children myself (having helped raise enough of them already), I became pregnant with my son at the tender age of 21. As a first year medical student, living two states away from my then-husband who visited only on weekends, I was surprised by this turn of events.

Surprised, and again, slightly embarrassed. I cannot explain why I would have felt shame over so normal a human function. Now a mother of three, and proud big sister and aunt to many, I have greatly benefited from fortuitous biology.

Others are not so lucky.

As our guests on the Dr. Lisa Radio Hour remind us this week, fertility does not naturally come to all.

Fertility and adoption counselor Anne Belden and reproductive endocrinologist Dr. Ben Lannon have worked with countless couples for whom having a baby becomes a challenging ordeal. They describe the shame felt by men and women who cannot accomplish what they are told should occur “naturally.”

Fertility issues, for some strange reason, remain one of medicine’s “dirty little secrets.” I come from an unusually large family. My parents’ fertility status was no secret.

The early embarrassment I felt over this--and my own discomfort following the surprise pregnancy with my son-- in no way matches what couples who struggle with fertility must feel.

But I have great compassion for those who experience embarrassment over something they cannot control.

I hope that fertility, whether abundant , inadvertent or lacking, will someday be treated for exactly what it is: a human function about which nobody should feel shame.

 

Boston Run

In 2008, my seven-year-old daughter, sister and I took the T to Copley Square in Boston, and watched the Marathon runners cross the finish line on Patriots Day.

My sister, then a doctoral student in nutrition at Tufts, was well versed in the ways of the big city.

A longtime resident of Maine, I had some trepidation about facing the crowds, the noise and the sheer vastness of the urban setting.

This was quickly diminished by the experience of watching people gratefully--often euphorically--reach the end of a 26.2 mile journey that had (for most) been many months in the making.

My sister greeted several acquaintances among the finishers. She had herself run the Boston Marathon previously, and knew the route well.

It was a beautiful April day. Flowers were blooming. There was an air of holiday and celebration.

My daughter and I enjoyed the comraderie and the crowd energy generated by runners and spectators alike.

Fast forward to Patriots Day 2013.

Another crowd gathers to watch the Marathon runners enter Copley Square. It is a beautiful April day. There is an air of holiday and celebration.

An eight-year-old boy, his mother and sister, stand among the spectators, waiting for his father to cross the finish line.

A bomb explodes. Then another. 

The boy and two others are killed immediately. His mother and sister are critically injured.

Countless others are maimed and wounded.

Word of the tragedy immediately spreads through social and mainstream media. We hear of yet another irrational,  evil act perpetrated upon those whose only crime was attempting to live their lives.

Very little separates us from those who were impacted by this crime.

For most, it is an issue of timing.

I am a runner, my sister is a runner and many of our siblings are runners. We have run Boston, and other marathons across the country.

I am a mother with children who have often watched me cross the finish line at races.

I am sad and angry that a pastime I love has been tainted by senseless violence.

I am sad and angry that an eight-year-old child lost his life.

Today I laced my sneakers up and ran for those who no longer could.

And prayed that Boston would somehow find the strength to persevere, and heal, in the face of its lost innocence.

Remembrance

2013

Remembering Dr. Nye

My high school principal died of Parkinson's in 2012.

Dr. Kenneth Nye was just seventy, and had struggled for fifteen years with this disease.

Dr. Nye was a fine educator. Many a young Belisle graduated from Yarmouth High School having benefitted from his leadership. He was named Maine's Principal of the Year in 1993.

Despite his diagnosis, Dr. Nye lived his life fully and completely.

At age sixty, he became a poet. He published four books of poetry, one of which included the piece Going Home at Twilight:

Coming down the trail at twilight,
I am perilously close to
being stranded in darkness.
Earlier I had figured
I could ski the loop
before it got dark.
I was wrong.
But I know where I am,
and in the dwindling light
I see the trail, and the trail
will bring me home.

 According to his obituary, Dr. Nye enjoyed, "crafting pewter soldiers, his favorite toys from childhood. His love of gardening, bird-watching, travel, literature, tractors, riddle/joke/storytelling, swimming, sailing, ice cream, musicals, etc., kept him engaged in life to the last."

Dr. Nye was a vibrant, intelligent man. It seemed particularly ironic that a disease of the brain and nervous system would prove his undoing.

People like Ken Nye remind us that Parkinson's Disease, though yet incurable, can be managed better, longer, by staying active.

Here in Maine, we are fortunate to have researchers such as Dr. James Cavanaugh from the University of New England examining the relationship between Parkinson's and physical activity.

We are equally fortunate to have places such as the Medically Oriented Gym in South Portland, offering settings where Parkinson's patients can exercise in a supervised setting.

Sometimes the simplest approaches to healing yield the best, and least expensive, results.

Sometimes, although we may feel that we are stranded in the darkness, we need only go back to basics, to find that we know where we are.

Dr. Kenneth Nye always knew where he was. He knew that he was meant to engage fully during each of the seven decades he was given to live.

He also knew that in his twilight years, he was on the trail that would finally lead him home.

 

twilight

March 2013

Hear our interview with Dr. James Cavanaugh and Jacalyn Morrill of the Medically Oriented Gym this Sunday on the Dr. Lisa Radio Hour & Podcast. Download the podcast through iTunes.

Do YOU Matter?

Do YOU matter?

One of my radio show guests this week told me that she ends each day by asking herself three questions: Did I live? Did I love? Did I matter?

Her purpose in doing so is to see what she has done well, and what she might improve upon the following day.

The question of "mattering" is an interesting one.

By virtue of our very existence, we matter. We are comprised of particles that give us a physical structure in the world. We are matter.

I worked with a vocal coach recently who had me do an exercise related to "mattering."

First, he asked me who I was. He asked me to define myself. He asked me why I was important.

Because we were working on the idea of "finding voice" as relevant to the radio show and my medical practice, my first responses had to do with my professional roles. I defined myself as a doctor, writer and radio show host. I told him that the work I was doing was important because I was able to give other people a metaphorical "space" in which to find healing.

That wasn't the answer. I was unable to project these ideas adequately across the room to the coach.  My voice was weak. I was too much in my head.

The coach told me to go deeper: to find my true voice from within. To use my diaphragm and utilize my  breath to send words out into the world.

Then he repeated: Who are you? Why do you matter?

I tried again. And again. I wasn't getting it right. He kept pushing me. He wanted me to get to the core of the question.

Who are you? Why do you matter?

Frustrated, I blurted out, "I am Lisa." 

He smiled. Finally. 

He had me do the same thing several more times, reaching uncomfortably deep into my body and virtually shouting my response in a loud, resonant voice.

I am Lisa. That is who I am, and that is why I matter.

That is why we matter.

We matter because we are alive.

We have, through some miracle, come into being. We exist.

With our existence comes the opportunity to live fully and love much.

We can choose to treat our bodies with kindness and respect.

We can choose to treat others with kindness and respect.

These are the lessons from our radio show guests this week--author and women's health expert Marcelle Pick, Cheverus High School Safe Passage Support team members Emily Mander and Michael Komich, and naturopathic physician Dr. Masina Wright.

Each, in their own way, shares how we can build on this gift of vitality that we have been given; this gift of existence.

Do YOU matter?

Yes.

We all do.

 

luminary trio

March 2013

The Dr. Lisa Radio Hour & Podcast airs each Sunday at 7 am & noon. Download the podcast through iTunes.