TURNINGS AND THOUGHTS: TRAIPSING THROUGH A DOER'S LIFE DO NOT CONFUSE ACTIVITY WITH ACTION

By Myron Gananian, MD

FROM BIRTH TO NEAR THE END A CHAT ABOUT THE NUMBERLESS TOPICS THAT IMPINGE ON EVERY ONE OF US. MOST OFTEN THESE SIMPLY HIT US ON THE HEAD AND GO THEIR WAY, WHEN OCCASIONALLY THE OPEN UP THE HEAD AND LET THE SOUL SPEAK.

• Language: English
• Publisher: BookBaby
• Release date: Mar 24, 2021
• ISBN: 9781098362706

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© Myron Gananian, MD. All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced,

distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the author, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.

ISBN: 978-1-09836-269-0 Print

ISBN: 978-1-09836-270-6 eBook

Contents

A Long Prologue

Chapter 1: Back to Myron and Others

Chapter 2: From Slime to Faith

Chapter 3: This Man/Woman Thing and The Stupid Hormone

Chapter 4: A Memorable Interlude

Chapter 5: Myron’s Story

Chapter 6: At Georgetown

Chapter 7: Life After Georgetown

Chapter 8: Military Experience

Chapter 9: Back at Stanford

Chapter 10: Medical School

Chapter 11: Medical Life

Chapter 12: Retirement

Chapter 13: Penultimate Thought

Chapter 14: On Skin and Hair

Chapter 15: Regrets and More Random Thoughts

Parting Shot

Epilogue

Dedication

Dedicated to Every Member of My Family

(As Far Back As They Permit Being Recognized)

A Long Prologue

Part of the title, Turnings…, is inspired by Mark Twain’s short story, The Turning Point of My Life, in which he asserts, as I recall and describe it, that there is no single, solitary turning point or even a few, but rather an incalculable number of such points in one’s life, recalled and forgotten, with not the least lacking in significance. Nothing happens to us, but nothing, that is not determined by a preceding event. The course of a life is an unpredictable, chaotic fractal. Only Black Swans. All is not lost, for as Henry Adams wrote, Chaos often breeds life, when order breeds habit. Points, refers to those occasions when chance or choice allows or encourages one to take or prefer one option over another, not always by conscious intent and quite often beyond our control. Large events in our lives, obviously, because of their size and noise, overwhelm smaller ones in retrospect but that makes them no more influential eventually than the most insignificant, numberless episodes that may not even merit recalling. Imagine awakening moments later than intended, and thereafter being involved in an accident, and having, from that stark memory, the good fortune to meet your spouse, or experiencing some other grand, memorable event that will cast its shadow over the rest of your life, but which would have not occurred had it not been for those few critical seconds of seeming inconsequence, nevertheless defining a most critical cross road in one’s life. If one were in an accident that caused one to meet one’s spouse, say, the inclination would be to attribute good fortune to that event, when it was the late awakening that was decisive. The accident, seemingly so crucial in memory, would likely not have occurred had sleep lasted a few seconds less or more. I leave it up to the reader; which event was the more determinative? Neither was inconsequential and both contributed to a major episode, but the accident casts the clearer memory, with the sleep left in the dust bin of forgetfulness. A further contemplation: what if one slept a few seconds longer and still met one’s wife-to-be without the intercession of an accident. The few minutes of extra sleep will again fade into oblivion, despite still retaining its significance, now without the contribution of the accident. How can those few seconds not be regarded as a turning point? How appropriate then, in writing about one’s recollections, that at least recognition be given to those miniscule events, barely remembered, that have played such a critical role in the trajectory of an existence, often even more momentous than the obvious, huge events such as death, attending or graduating from college, marriage, military service, or serious illness. Forks in the road of life are not well marked. These roads may be foot paths or multi-lane highways, every one of which takes us to the next determinative spot in our lives.

It would be instructive to contemplate what would have been the course of one’s path had the small or large Turn not occurred. A huge What If.

Has anyone seen a directional arrow or a stop sign at such times? We are, or should be, our own traffic cop, but maybe we are not. Keep that thought in mind for later.

As for Thoughts how can there be Turns without thoughts? It is impossible to look back, contemplate and muse, and not have thoughts about one’s travails, successes, and failures. And as well to have these thoughts touch on the innumerable topics that have nothing to do with one’s self, rather on the enormous world that envelops us. What kind of a recounting of a life if it is limited only to what one did without including what one thought. Aren’t one’s thoughts at least as important as what one did in defining a person? Obviously, thoughts that do not become words are of value only to the thoughtful or thinking, verging on the useless. In my estimation the ability to speak and use words are mankind’s highest achievements, though there is a chance that the Information Age, based on idea and word exchange, may serve to not be just the bane of humanity but may very well be the cause of its deterioration if not demise. The Information Age has not lived up to its promise, whatever the Hell that was supposed to be. Am I wrong that this Age dealt only with the quantity and rate of exchange and not the quality of the words and ideas they represented? All that has flowed from it is to create barbs and missiles from words, which serve more to destroy rather than to uplift, unify, and edify, their only purpose. This Age has been a wide open spigot for a torrent of irrelevancy. The illiterate, thoughtless, and cruel, whose role should be to remain silent, now have access to the most dangerous weapon ever devised, lies and hurtful words. If you regard this as hyperbole how is it that a few ill-advised words can lead to another’s suicide? Could anyone have imagined that it would come to this-homicide by vowel and consonant? Or as Evan Connell so perfectly nailed it, Malicide. Didn’t a few badly chosen words from the Kaiser set off Empress Eugenie, leading to the Franco-Prussian War of 1870? Even the hard sciences, what with their overwhelming amount of new knowledge (words) have not been immune, suffering from using false words to confirm that what they found was exactly that for which they were looking. Remember Cold Fusion. Words have become just costume jewelry in what used to be the Golden Crown worn by Science. As an aside, it is not the proper role of science to be accommodating to society’s current fashion of taking sides in discussions of social policy. Why should someone who tears atoms asunder be regarded as an oracle on totally unrelated matters? Fame is not expertise. Words evolved as a connection between us all, they have no other purpose. They are not equivalent to bleating or to flatus, though there is a commonality in that once let go they cannot be retrieved. We are increasingly disconnected from each other, having replaced a beloved one’s eyes with three pieces of glass in an item of garbage whose presence has far more influence and control over the user than any sensate being in their orbit. It seems to be easier to part from a lover than from a Smart [sic] phone. Just try separating the latter from its owner.

Did the Information Age make us kinder and nicer, more intelligent or more ignorant, more aware of others’ and society’s needs or our own, angrier or more peaceful, more giving or more demanding, more satisfied (contented) or more seeking, or more expansive or more restricted in our sensitivity to the world around us? There is no need to answer these questions since they provide their own.

In addition, instead of reverting to the mean, the usual way in which society often stabilizes itself, homeostasis, we now go to the lowest common denominator, as partly evidenced by our speech, dominated by foul words; song, dominated by foul words; entertainment, dominated by foul words; dress, of no appeal unless sexually suggestive; abstract beliefs about which few are concerned; talk about genitalia but not about god, personal connections and commitments; and even the way we shake hands. We don’t care anymore. If you don’t care you may well be on life support. Don’t you think that not knowing or caring about the difference between I and Me, for example, reflects not just sloppiness but worst of all the low value one places on what others think about what you are saying? This is just one of many, many ways that our isolation from others is manifested. A rising social consciousness, inseparable from more widespread, increased intellect, in contrast with a declining one, elevates everyone, even the unwilling and undeserving. True Trickle-Down Societal Ennoblement. As an interesting aside, the Harvard Physiologist who coined the term Homeostasis, used originally to describe biological conditions, was Walter Cannon, whose grandson, Walter Cannon, III, is a retired chest surgeon and colleague.

Why does this viewpoint about trivial events having the leverage to result in enormous consequences hold so much appeal? The answer is apparent not only to me, looking back these so many years, but to many with whom I share my life experiences. These easily overlooked moments are like adjectives and colored paints, adding drama and interest to what might otherwise be a mundane history, a simple chronology into a fascination. How could an event so miniscule at the time or even bordering on a calamity, preferably forgotten, have been the seed and map for outcomes in my life that I would trade for nothing. It is only now with the vantagepoint of the rearview mirror that the chess moves of life appear to lead from one fortunate step to the next as if by design. And I sense now that most of the design is from my hand, not in the least in creating the Turns but in turning them to my advantage. There is not a single crossroad taken that I wish the alternative had been followed, despite the feeling at the time that the first steps as well as the then perceived final outcome in the preferred or imposed path may not have been in my best interest, or to my liking. I feel I am a poster child for the adage Luck favors the prepared mind. I agree with those who know me well that I have had a storied, fortunate life, but my self assessment is that I take more credit for the way my life evolved than by attributing the ups and downs mostly to good fortune. Which in no way means that there weren’t people, events, and opportunities in my life over which I had absolutely no influence, either in my being presented with them or in the way I responded. That is to say there were many, many things that impinged on me when I was a passive recipient of their influence of benefit or harm, nothing short of a feather in the wind, a receptacle and not a generator.

In addition, it is easily overlooked that folks who have a lucky or charmed life achieve that in part by a negative or avoidance strategy in this chess game that life is. Mistakes are often calamities and end up as checkmate. This is a key requirement if one is to be successful or just survive on the path through life, avoiding mistakes. Errors are perturbations or little bumps of no permanent adverse consequence and should be exploited for what they truly are, one of the many legs that support experience and learning whereas mistakes never stop dogging one. Mistakes are mortgages on which one never stops making payments. These are the potholes that really swallow one. Marriage to the wrong spouse, habitually treating others badly, drug and alcohol use, friendship with bad people, and a life of crime must rank high on the list of avoidances. Errors we make with our eyes open, often knowingly taking risks. On the other hand, mistakes often have as their genesis decisions made either while wearing blindfolders or on the basis of self-deception, the same thing. Isn’t that a good description of a love relationship? Warren Buffett, An investor needs very few things right, as long as he avoids big mistakes.

My admiration and gratitude to all the twists and turns of my life would not exist were I not completely happy and satisfied with the end result, the place in which I am now. Contentment with the tail end of my life is what allows me to look back and say to myself, Well done, good choices and you stayed out of big trouble, Myron. Avoiding bad people was an enormous contribution to my making it this far. There is no denying the advantages that flow from having had so many nice people in my life. Nice people can be called by many other names-stepping stones, life-lines and life savers, ports in a storm, saviors, Big Brothers and Sisters, beacons, heroes, idols, and so forth. They feed the soul, possibly more important than putting food in the stomach. This is not an exaggeration. It was confirmed during WWI in French orphanages. The poor ones, having much less food than the wealthy ones, allowed or encouraged more physical contact between the nurses and the children, while the wealthy ones considered that feeding the children absolved them of the responsibility of spending time with their charges. The mortality rate in the poor orphanages was lower. There is such a thing as emotional starvation, often self-imposed and not always attributable to others.

Despite my belittling the influence of Lady Luck let it be known that a day does not go by that I don’t look out the window to my beautiful yard, from which I await a Thank you, and thank my LUCKY stars. And FATE. Thanks. This may be a good place to tell about the Armenian word for Fate-djagadakeer. The exact translation is Writing on the forehead. This refers to the joint lines between the skull bones which look like some type of cuneiform. The essential meaning is that we are born with our future inscribed in our bones. If you think that you are the master of your fate and that you can override it read, The Bridge Of San Luis Rey, by Thornton Wilder. More on this to follow.

As to contentment, that really should be the end game all along for one’s entire existence, at every milepost and not just at the tail end. The nugatory quest for happiness is a guarantee for disenchantment and disappointment. The concept of Happiness has in itself the seeds for the certainty of its elusiveness, evanescence, and the final outcome, misery and disappointment, and really, Unhappiness. With a condemnation such as that you are justified in asking for clarification. So I will hold forth. Within most attempts to achieve happiness is the embodiment of an effort to achieve a goal, a state of being, a well-defined, though impermanent end point. Unfortunately, very few of us are constituted in a manner to achieve this place by ourselves. This means that we depend on others or things or conditions outside and apart from ourselves to satisfy the yearning for this thing called happiness. One more pair of shoes, one more party, one more drink, a different girl or boy friend, another airplane, a bigger house, a new job, a younger or different spouse, one more pill, you get it. A change in status. Always striving. Self-fulfillment, contrariwise, means just that, from within one’s self.

Contentment, usually the result of self-fulfillment, on the other hand, has a limit line, just as it is at a crosswalk. If you are satisfied with who you are, with what you have, your situation, you are content and have no need to continue on to the next thing or person to provide you another step on a never-ending circular pursuit. Happiness is a temporary stop, a way station where one waits, biding time, for the next tempting appeal for a trip to the next short-lived state, while contentment is a full stop. Happiness is fickle. Contentment says Look around you and backward to how you arrived here, while happiness, whatever it is, says, What you have is fading so keep looking for something fresher. The conditions outside of one’s self that created happiness can also be taken away, either by the person who was the source of your happiness or by the dulling and aging of the physical object which one sought. The latter indictment applies, unfortunately, to people as well, known to become stale. You all know the saying, Familiarity breeds contempt. Contented folks tend to not be contemptuous or jealous. Coveting is fatal to happiness and often is the reason for its transitory nature. Covetousness is a killer, the first among its many victims-respect. Happiness is usually lacking in gratitude, while it is the essence of contentment. Gratitude is in shorter supply than honesty", M. Gananian, 1996

The near nationwide quest for happiness may help explain why there are so many miserable, seeking, and unsatisfied among us resorting to drugs and psychiatrists. If proof is needed, consider that the number of physician visits for mental health problems is about 700 per 100,000 population while for non-mental health ones it is about 400, annually. We need to ask why a nation that is the leader of the world in comfort and security (every other place is worse), allowing time for introspection and improved intellect, produces so many wretched souls.

In addition, the search for happiness involves the Hope that one will feel better under this new-found situation or condition. The futility of such a hope might be summarized in the following words: Don’t make life decisions with the aim of making yourself feel good, but rather what is good for you. Gananian, 1997. And of course, good for the folks affected by your decisions. The essence of these words will be repeated later in my definition of a Good Citizen. And in regard to HOPE, it is well to keep in mind what the Russians say about it, since they know it well: Hope is the mother of fools.

I wonder, with profound apologies to Thomas Jefferson, that ..pursuit of happiness might be replaced with ..achievement of contentment.

The greatest happiness you can have is knowing that you do not necessarily require happiness. William Saroyan

The goal is to die with memories, not dreams. Unknown

Life is made not for happiness but for accomplishment. Hegel. More