AmericanFlier

AmericanFlier is a comparative study of World Arts, Science, Music, Literature, History & Culture: past, present and future, to encourage truthful examination of the Human Spiritual Condition and free and open discussion.

Sunday, October 28, 2007

Spell Checker, Installment #1 - Incurable?

Spell Checker, installment #1
by AmericanFlier
Incurable?
I guess I got the spelling right. My spell check is telling me it is okay so I guess it is. It just doesn’t look right. You know what I mean? Incurable, sometimes you spell a word and it just doesn’t look right on paper or on the screen as it were. I am a notoriously poor speller, always have been. I am never quite sure if have spelled even the simplest words correctly. I am also good for using the incorrect homonym. (i.e. their & there) In fact, I just used the wrong spelling for homonym, and I wouldn’t have known it without the good’ol spell checker.
However, I have found that I must be careful with my word processor’s correction devices. Computers are very anal & can offer you corrections to what is already right or when you may desire the poetic or literary license to be wrong intentionally as in the case of contractions and the use of vernacular. Hence, in the case of the former, the corrector’s advice is incorrect and in the case of the latter, it is undesirable.
This, and here I am guessing again, is apparently the situation with the Art of Medicine. Immediately, without a second thought, I know that many would disagree and claim that Medicine is not an art but a science. In this commentary, I put forth the centuries old notion that Medicine is an art that uses the sciences. This is an idea that goes back to the Ancient Greeks and maybe even further. These people invented the idea of Physical Culture (in Western Civilization) and knew about the circulation of the blood, the importance of cleanliness and of proper diet and exercise. Many speculate that they had inherited a relatively fair grip on Pharmacology from the Egyptians, Babylonians and other predecessors. As an Art it is subjective and much testing and unexplainable phenomena happen during the diagnosis, treatment and healing process.
"Life is short, the art long, opportunity fleeting, experiment treacherous, judgment difficult"
(Hippocrates)

(I don't really know where I am going this piece. I started it when my wife was diagnosed as terminal with metastatic carcinoma and given about a year to eighteen months to live. I just didn't want to believe the word incurable. So far the therapy has been effective and she is now considered in remission but the disease is still considered incurable, and the side effects of the treatment are horrible. Her doctors say they have just bought her some time. Take the time to leave a comment especially if you are going through a similar situation)
 
Incurable it is, and cancer finally took the beloved form my arms and placed her into the loving arms of Jesus. The loss is unbearable. In my heart I find there is nothing left to live for, though I know in my head I must go on. How hard it is to concentrate or find zest in any of my prior endeavors, this blog, or even the ministry to which I have been called. My mentor keeps challenging me to persevere, but I cannot find the energy. My heart is broken unto death. Help me my Lord in my destitute condition.
 
From blogger Philyr:
Two months later Aslan's heart gave out. The paramedics were summoned, but to no avail. The one who originated this blog, who used the pseudonyms of Aslan and Samuel Winterwood, has gone to his eternal rest and left the torch for another to follow. Should history ever care, few shall know who the true names of the bloggers were.
 
The following Obituary is provided as a parting accolade for the blogger:
 
Throughout his youth he was carried along in the ways of the world
Taking of its pleasures and conforming to secular voices.
He believed all the perplexing troubles surrounding him
Were common to all humankind.
He traveled beyond the limits of control where hidden forces
Began taking over till his life was not his own.
He tried to reach back, to escape the consequences of his unrighteous acts
Only to be powerless against those shadows of darkness
Separating him from free society.
He turned to religion expecting to find a new way
But religion only exposed his inadequacy.
His own confession was the ultimate discovery
That life was not about him,
But  about fellowship with the Savior of his soul.
It was there he found the power, the victory, the satisfaction
That filled the God shaped vacuum in his heart.
Through that fellowship he learned to love,
To serve, to be there when needed.
When the need was finally gone
He longed to be joined with his people.
It was then the God he loved and served
Mercifully took him home
To eternal rest and comfort.

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