Body Worry : Coping With Stresses Through Better Habits

I flew to my mother’s home in Marietta, Ga., two days ago for a surprise visit, but I didn’t make it past the pay phone at the airport’s baggage area before lightning began to strike.

It would strike three times in 24 hours.

“Honey,” Mom said, and before she uttered another word, I knew something was wrong. “Suzanne has been in an accident.” Suzanne, my niece, attends school near Mom’s home and now lives with her. My mom, 77, and Sue, 22, have become close friends during the last year, despite the age difference. I thought of that, thought of the rarity of it as Mom spoke.

“And how is she?” I asked calmly (a good acting job).

“OK,” she said tentatively, “but her head went through the windshield. She’s having plastic surgery on her face. She’ll need more. When can you be home?” Mom’s question was as calmly phrased as mine.

I walked in the house to face both the short-term and longer-term implications of an accident and its effect on both Sue and Mom, stopping at the table near the back door to pick up my mail, which occasionally comes to this address.

No Reprieve From the IRS

I thought the mail would give me a little reprieve from reality until I saw the return address on the only letter with my name on it: the Internal Revenue Service.

Mom, in need of a hug, walked up to me before I could open the letter. After visiting Sue and talking with doctors, the police (it wasn’t her fault), Sue’s dad and the insurance company, I had a moment of privacy to read the good news: The IRS wanted some more money, thank you.

That night, I slept in Sue’s room (my old room and Sue’s father’s room before that). Paneled in pine, the walls have pictures that speak of those times and large windows, which frame an oak tree as much a part of this house as my mother. The tree is more than 120 years old.

Next morning, looking at the tree from the window, it seemed in need of professional care. In Georgia, the forestry commission provides a free tree-evaluation service for urban dwellers, and within hours a senior forester, Larry Morris, was standing with me under limbs that had sheltered many good times.

“You know, it needs to come down real soon,” he said as he looked up at a giant limb stretching over half the house.

“Boy, I hate to lose that limb,” I said. “It really shades the roof.”

Morris looked at me. “I’m not talking about the limb,” he said kindly, “I’m talking about the tree. It’s dying, quickly. Hypoxylon canker.”

Surprising Reactions

Well, I don’t know what else is going to happen on this trip (I don’t think I want to know), but I tell you about these incidents because my reaction to them has surprised me and made me feel pretty good, too, in a strange way.

Until this year, any of these problems would have sent my hand to my cigarettes and my mind to thoughts of food or an extra drink in the evening to shore me up. In fact, the accident, the IRS or the tree alone would have probably put me in a real depression. I have spent a lot of my life waiting for the sky to fall.

But as the bad news piled up, I was a calmer person this time around. The tension came, but I handled it with a harder workout at the gym and a very brisk walk around our neighborhood. The sweaty palms and feeling of heaviness that real depression can bring (Have you ever felt that?) just didn’t happen.

Why? During my remake I have learned from doctors that my new physical coping mechanisms--working out and walking in this instance, biking, jogging or swimming in other settings--actually help release tension, rather than physically contribute to it as my old coping mechanisms--extra cigarettes, more food, a calming drink--used to do.

Psychologically, the confidence I am acquiring in restructuring my eating habits and sticking with exercise has now begun to restructure my thinking about handling just about any problem.

My father used to tell me that we had to get on with the business of living, regardless of the problem or the unpleasant realities that attack us all the time. I think he first said that to me about 30 years ago. And I think I finally understand what he meant.

Progress Report

Beginning 33rd Week Waist: 43 inches 34 inches Right biceps: 12 3/4 inches 13 inches Flexed: 13 inches 13 3/4 inches Weight: 201 pounds 170 pounds Height: 6’ 1” Blood pressure: 128/68 120/66 Pulse: 64 58 Bench press: 55 160 Hunk factor: .00 .61