For a read-aloud of this post, check out https://anchor.fm/ann-frailey/episodes/Cures-for-the-Human-Condition-e1ariog
“Samuel Stupp didn’t expect many surprises inside his lab after a 40-year career as a scientist. But something magical happened recently: His research team at Northwestern University developed an injection that seemed to prevent mice with spinal cord injuries from becoming paralyzed… Furthermore, it signaled the body to produce blood vessels, which are necessary for cells to repair themselves.”
I am constantly astonished at how much great good human beings are capable of doing—if we put our minds to it. What we put our minds to being the keywords.
My eldest daughter received a degree in Chemistry last May and started interviewing for jobs right away. She soon started working for a laboratory in St. Louis that studies human sleep cycles, deciphering human genetics from fruit flies, of all things. As someone who occasionally suffers from disturbed sleep, I’m keen to find sleep aides that don’t involve drugs. I learned long ago the price people pay for “relaxing” aids in various forms and have chosen to do without. Strangely enough, I have discovered that when I am awake tossing and turning, there is usually a good reason. Something in my life I need to process. A problem I must face. A decision to make. The very discomfort I endure speaks to me—teaches me. And it’s best I don’t fall asleep before I deal with it.
Pain, suffering, and crippling realities speak to the human condition. And we need to find aids, remedies, and cures. It is a wonderful testament to the human race that a man like Samuel Stupp can do the research and develop a therapy to assist people in such trying circumstances. How many sleepless nights did he endure in the process?
In our world of pandemics, rising cancer rates, horrifying health conditions, I have to wonder when we are curing and when we are escaping from the remedy we really need. In the case of spinal cord injuries, the situation is pretty obvious, and Stupp’s brilliance lights the path to hope and healing.
But how many tragic conditions today result from putting our minds and our bodies in damaging places?
I recently learned from an experienced nurse that certain people have a predisposition toward weak livers and that those people are at a higher risk for liver breakdown. For them even a bit of alcohol and drugs are the fast track to destruction. In my own life, I know that television shows, movies, and music can play a large part in my mental and emotional outlook on a given day. The darker the storyline, the more chaotic the music, the grittier my world view. Treats and sweets in the form of drinks and desserts are fun and a wonderful way to gather people for a festive party, but cavities and diabetes last longer.
Last year at this time, I reduced my online presence in order to detox from negativity swirling through its forums. Though I have reestablished contacts, I have realized, more than ever, the need to constantly evaluate where I am putting my mind, my body, and my soul. If I can’t sleep at night, I need to figure out why and deal with it—not override it.
Writing short stories has been a healthy avenue for me to traverse the mountain ranges of our human condition. I may not discover a remedy, but I reach an understanding that helps me direct my footsteps once again on the path toward wholeness. In my story, It Might Have Been, a man slides from his present life into a version of hell he did not really want but had chosen. How many times do we slip and slide into a life we don’t want, we rail against, but in truth, we chose for ourselves?
I wish there were cures for paralyzed spirits, the tragedy of getting stuck in hate mode, pointing fingers like gripers and complainers, becoming people who are certain-sure of our own rightness and everyone else’s wrongness. Maybe someday, a researcher will apply brilliant insight from mice to men, leading destructive behavior toward constructive lives. But until then, we must decide where we put ourselves rather than longing for a cure that may never come.
A. K. Frailey is the author of 15 books, a teacher for 35 years, and a homeschooling mother of 8.
Make the most of life’s journey.
For books by A. K. Frailey check out her Amazon Author Page
It Might Have Been—And Other Stories