November 1, 2015
MARTHA RODIN R.N.; PhD.
During the forenoon of Sunday
October 11 a heart which only knew love and caring ceased to beat. When I say
that we had been married for 63 years this is more or less commonplace. But she
was not just my wife; she was my most trusted friend, comrade in arms, and soulmate
through all the vicissitudes of a long life. We met two weeks after my arrival
in the US and apart from professional trips, there was
hardly a day we were not together.
I had found my first employment in this
country on my 25th birthday as an intern at Staten Island Hospital
and was immediately assigned to the Emergency Room. Although I spoke fluent
English and knew medicine, inches, grains, ounces etc. were only words in my
vocabulary without their meaning, because most of the world uses the metric
system. In addition, although aspirin, digitalis, morphine and some other drug
names are universally recognized, most of the rest are idiosyncratic. There I
was alone in the ER with a patient when the door opened and a highly attractive
21-year old student nurse, Martha Kinscher, walked in
for assistance. She had pity for this somewhat lost soul and guided me to do
the right thing for the patient.
I was immediately smitten by her beauty
and kindness, and when I started dating her, found out that horses were the
great love of her life.
There was no thought of marriage because
I had a girlfriend in Vienna, Erika, likewise a
recent medical graduate, with whom I was informally engaged and was
trying to obtain an affidavit of support (needed at that time even for
visitors) to bring her here to get married. I told Martha about this situation
and we agreed to stay friends. When after a few months I had succeeded to
obtain the affidavit from another Austrian physician who had emigrated years
earlier, I immediately wrote to Vienna with the good news. Two weeks later came
the reply that in the meantime she had agreed to marry an American officer
stationed in occupied Vienna whom she had also known for some time, but had
broken off the relationship when we started dating. Well, that was it; although
there was an immediate twinge of regret, I knew that Erika had been important
for my emotional growth but this was a new life and I was now free to get
semi-serious with Martha.
I’m saying “semi” because she was a
strong-willed young lady and what I wanted and what she wanted were not
necessarily the same. We kept dating and in September of 1951 when the internship
was over we went on a two week vacation to the Thousand Islands and talked of
marriage. Earlier in the year I had been accepted for a fellowship in Neurology
at the Mayo Clinic in Rochester MN where I was to start in October. We
continued to correspond and Martha thought that Easter of ‘52 would be a good
time to get married. Why wait till Easter, I wrote back, let’s do it for
upcoming Christmas; after some hemming and hawing she agreed. She and her
parents may well have had some reservations about this brash Austrian who had,
apart from his MD degree, no credentials in this country. When I asked her
father’s permission to marry his only child, who was the apple of his eye,
prior to the departure for Rochester, he agreed after I promised to take care
of her for the rest of my life. So Christmas it was, and we got married on the
23rd in the Episcopal Church she attended during childhood and
There had been some concern in her
extended family that she was marrying a Catholic. But although both of us were
friends of Jesus we had no use for church rituals regardless of denomination.
Since her father was a member of the Freemasons in Brooklyn, decency of
character was the criterion rather than formal religion. As soon as the date
had been set I asked my mother to send me my skis because there was plenty of
snow in Minnesota and I had started a friendship with a Norwegian colleague,
Rolv Slungaard, who obviously also had skiing in his
blood. They were sent to Martha’s family and her first Christmas as well as
wedding present was a pair of skis we bought in Manhattan the day before the
marriage rites. The honeymoon was a railroad trip to Minnesota in a
“couchette”, ideal for newlyweds.
Neither one of us had any money because
my salary was $150/month and she earned about $250 as a registered nurse, but
we consoled each other with the words: We’ve got no money, but we aren’t poor
and this is temporary. Prior to marriage I lived in a rented room and although
the landlady liked me, when I brought Martha to stay with me she got her dander
up and made life difficult for her. Both of us were brought up during the
depression and the idea of taking a loan, thereby going into debt, was
completely foreign to both of us. We’d make do, come what may.
Well, the Lord took pity on us and
within a week or so we were asked if we would want to “house-sit” for the
retired chairman of obstetrics and gynecology who intended to stay the rest of
the winter in Florida. We obviously jumped at the offer. Not only was it
rent-free, in walking distance of the Clinic and St. Mary’s hospital, but also
very pleasant and of the right size.
Although Martha desperately wanted
children, this seemed to be a vain hope. About a year and a half prior to our
meeting she had suffered strep throat which led to serious nephritis and she
was warned not to have children because of the danger of eclampsia. In addition
there was potential danger for the baby because her blood type was Rh negative.
This was fine with me, because I had wanted a girlfriend and as a result of my
experience with fathers (see War&Mayhem on this site) felt that I was
totally unfit for that job. As the German saying goes: Vater werden ist
nicht schwer, Vater sein dagegen sehr – to become a father is easy, to be a father is
tough. But what were my intentions against her will? Within two months she had
conceived and our daughter made her first appearance in November.
To say the least, Martha was delighted while I
was more skeptical. I was abruptly married to a mother and automatically
relegated to number two, which took some time getting used to. But one learns.
Peter arrived in 1955 and Eric in 1959. The family was now complete.
While in Minnesota, Martha learned to
ski. It was on a little hill where other fellows, the title of physicians in
training at Mayo, had built a rope tow and a warming hut against the brutal
cold. There we spent our Sundays with Martha carrying baby Krissie in a
transport bag to the hut. Martha was a quick learner and since one of the other
fellows, who also regularly skied there, kept talking about Colorado powder we
decided to go there as soon as the occasion arose. It came in 1956 when we had
already moved to Ann Arbor where I was working as a neurologist and
electroencephalographer in the Psychiatry Department of the University of
Michigan. Rolv and two of his other Norwegian friends, with whom we had stayed
in contact, told us that they were going to Aspen for a couple of weeks and
invited us to come along. Of course we accepted. Martha’s mother, Viva, came to
stay with the children. We drove from Michigan to La Crosse, where Rolv had
joined the Gundersen Clinic, and all five of us then piled into a car and drove
to Colorado to test the snow. It was indeed as advertised and all of us had a
In 1958 life changed again. I had, from
the previous year, an offer from the newly established Lafayette Clinic to take
the position as Chief of Neurology and Electroencephalography with an
appointment as Assistant Professor at Wayne State University in the Department
of Neurology. In addition, the offer included part-time private practice with
Dr. Joe Whelan who was at that time the only neurologist and
electroencephalographer in the city. It certainly was tempting but jumping from
the University of Michigan with its prestige, where I had just been promoted
from Instructor to Assistant Professor, into the completely unknown did raise
some doubts. Both of us were never after money. My salary was sufficient to buy
a house on a small pond and we had joined the sailing club of the university.
In the summer we went sailing on Base Lake, initially in ten foot dinghies and
later Jet 14s, and in the winter drove occasionally north to Boyne Mountain for
skiing. We loved our little house and the pond where we could swim in the
summer and ice-skate in the winter. We had our two children who likewise loved
the pond and under Martha’s instructions became good swimmers at their tender
ages. We were content. So when the offer came in 1957 I was only modestly
interested, especially since the mental distance, by the cognoscenti, from
Detroit to Ann Arbor was 40 miles but from Ann Arbor to Detroit infinity. You
just don’t go slumming, especially when one is a reasonably bright young
neurologist who wants to make a name for himself.
There was another complication. The
newly appointed chairman of Neurology, whom I had met at the Ski meeting of the
Eastern EEG Society, while he was still working in Boston, was as strong-willed
as I and we just didn’t hit it off after his appointment to Wayne’s
chairmanship. We had pretty much of a row in Dr. Gottlieb’s office (director of
the Clinic) over who would be in charge of the 20 Neurology beds of this
otherwise psychiatric hospital. He insisted that he and his staff physicians
would be rotating through on a monthly basis. I insisted on the European system
where a given unit had its permanent physician in charge and that would be me
because otherwise “Chief” is just a meaningless title. It was the proverbial
Mexican stand-off. I went home, discussed it with Martha and we decided to stay
put. My salary was sufficient for a modest life-style and she could stay home
to raise our children.
In the summer of 1958 the university
sponsored Hungarian refugees from the 1956 uprising to be temporarily placed in
the homes of faculty members until permanent homes could be secured. Obviously
we volunteered and a young student, who spoke no English, moved in with us.
Then later in the summer my mother came from Vienna for a visit. All of a
sudden my salary didn’t cover the expenses. I already had a Board Certification
in Electroencephalography as well as Neurology and was in no mood to take out a
loan. So I went to one of my bosses (I had two. One directed the Mental Health
research Institute of the university, where I was his EEGer, and the other was
the Chairman of the Department of Psychiatry because the EEG lab was in his
rather than the Neurology department) and asked for a raise. The answer was:
“For the money I’m paying you I can buy myself two good
electroencephalographers.” Well that was it. I said to myself go ahead; went
home discussed it with Martha and we agreed: o.k. let’s jump.
The decision was made somewhat easier
because one of the staff physicians at the Clinic was a friend of ours from
Mayo days, Peter Becket, and Jacques Gottlieb was a wonderful director. He saw
his role as hiring good people and then letting them do their thing in addition
to his lobbying the legislature for expansion of the facility and providing
state of the art equipment for research. The mislabeled Lafayette Clinic was
actually the psychiatric research hospital of the State of Michigan under the
Department of Mental Health. In addition Joe Whelan was a wonderful person,
competent and easy to get along with. He lived with his wife, Gloria, and their
children in Grosse Pointe and when he took us along Lakeshore Drive on the
shore of Lake St. Claire we knew that this was doable. It turned out to have
been the right decision also for Martha. The Whelans were a wonderful couple
who ever so often gave European style soirees in their home with guests from
the university and other professionals. This became of vital importance for
Martha six years later. As mentioned Eric came along in April of 1959 and
Martha, who was actually my intellectual superior, had become somewhat
unfulfilled. She went riding on Belle Isle and apart from the house, our first purchase was a 16 foot Rebel to sail on the
lake. But her intellect did not have an outlet. Nevertheless, the children were
her first priority and taking a job outside the home was never a thought until
all three of them were in school during the day.
At that point the Whelan dinners assumed
their destined role in her life. Martha had always wanted to go to medical
school. She surely had the mental wherewithal and would have made an excellent
physician. But Martha’s family was lower middle class where money was scarce
but love abundant and they simply could not afford the exorbitant cost. This is
after all, “Capitalist” America, where the buck rules and where you have to pay
through the nose for higher education, especially since in those days there was
no student loan program. Under the American system I could never have become a
physician because my family was also practically destitute in 1945, having lost
all valuables to the Russian occupiers and Viennese looters. But in “socialist”
Austria all education, including university, was paid for through income taxes
and essentially gratis. With medical school unattainable for Martha she had
chosen the next best thing by becoming a nurse. But regret remained because the
intellect remained unfulfilled. On one of the evenings at the Whelans the
Chairman of the Department of Anatomy was one of the guests. He immediately
took to Martha and after a brief conversation offered to enroll her into a PhD
program in his department. She grabbed it with both hands, studied furiously
and after graduation joined the department.
Her dissertation was on the adrenergic
innervation of the heart valves. She had observed that not only the heart muscle
receives nerves that can pour out adrenaline directly into the heart but so did
the valves, which was unknown at the time. Throughout these years we always
discussed our work and one evening she came home bewildered. All of her
students loved her, but this was the hippie era. On that day one of them, who
was clearly a member of the scene with the looks and eating a chicken during
anatomy lecture, had approached her with the desire that “he wants to do brain
research.” Martha wondered what in all the world do I
do with this guy, and asked me for advice. Obviously I had no use for a hippie
and just said: “Well, let’s sleep on it.” As we say in Austria: Der Herrgott gibt’s den Seinen im Schlafe – the Lord provides advice to His own during
sleep. In the morning I had the answer. He’s a hippie, he smokes pot so let him
and his cronies smoke to their hearts’ content government-provided marijuana,
while he helps to run the EEG machine. In this way he’d get his wish and I can
find out what the drug does under controlled circumstances. Martha immediately
agreed, talked to the student who jumped at the idea and about a year later
“The Marihuana Social High” was published in the AMA Journal.
Martha was always the co-worker. Some of
my scientific work required the implantation of electrodes into the brains of
animals and she subsequently verified the electrode positions for the ensuing
publications. But she also did more than that. As a result of another series of
experiments in the late 1970s she made a fundamental discovery. Her electron
microscopic study showed that the first changes in brains that were subjected
to repeated small doses of a seizure producing drug were not in the nerve cells,
neurons, but in their supporting structures, the glia. This information was
unknown and unexpected at the time. We published the data in a first line
journal but the publication was ignored. The concept is only now being given
serious consideration by others, using different methods, without mention of
Martha’s previous work. A picture from a social gathering around that time is
Life moved on; we skied, sailed, swam, took
trips and, of course, she engaged in her first love horseback riding, where she
won numerous ribbons. When I reached my sixties we started taking where we
would retire. I needed a place where I could continue with my hobbies: skiing,
sailing and science, and she needed horse country. For mine I needed mountains
with good snow, a sizeable body of water and a university. When one thinks
about this, there aren’t too many places in this country which fulfill all of
these criteria. But Eric, our pilot, had after his graduation from college
earned his spurs in form of flying hours that would enable him to get a job at
one of the major carriers, in Salt Lake. During the week he taught flying at
the airport and on weekends skiing at Solitude. It was an ideal arrangement. He
got his brother to come out for vacation to Solitude and that became their
mountain. Mom and Dad had to follow their lead and Utah instead of Colorado
became our ski destination.
I obtained a Utah medical license and in
August of 1990 we moved to our permanent home in Sandy. I had intended to spend
the first year of retirement on travel while Martha intended to remain at work.
Since Peter with his wife lived only a few minutes away from our home he could
have taken care of “Mom” in case of need, and I could have hopped on a plane to
get back in no time. Of course, all of us know what happens to the best laid
plans of mice and men. Our daughter had come back from Europe, where she had
stayed and worked for about two decades after having obtained her PhD at the
University of Salzburg. She moved to Salt Lake, got a job at the university,
married and was now on her way to produce another grandchild for us. The latter
fact I was not privy to at the time. This was the signal for Martha: We move
now! Krissie needs me! While I was engaged elsewhere she came to Salt Lake
ostensibly to ski, but in addition picked the house where we were to live. I
had no idea because my fantasies were still on travel so who needs another
house? She knew my problem in regard to an immediate move rather than waiting
an additional year and was concerned about my reaction. So she used reverse
psychology: “It’s such a nice house, I love it, that’s my house, but you won’t
like it” was the refrain for several hours. Regardless whether I did like it or
not, it was already a done deal because as the saying goes: If mother ain’t happy, nobody‘s happy. To make her happy I flew to
Salt Lake looked at the house and it did indeed serve our purpose admirably.
Thirty minutes to Alta for skiing, 30 minutes to the university and 45 minutes
to the Great Salt Lake fulfilled all of the criteria for successful retirement
even if it came a little earlier than hoped for. The house itself was large
enough to shelter the entire family. Since all three kids were married and two
with children of their own, it could accommodate them whenever they came to
visit. The next ten years were the happiest of our lives. In the winter we
skied together in the mornings and she spent the afternoons with her horse.
At one point she developed kidney stones
but these were taken care of with lithotripsy and hospitalization was not
needed. Sometime later cervical cancer was diagnosed. She had a vaginal
hysterectomy as an outpatient at Alta View hospital and after the three-hour
procedure we went home. The gynecologist apologized that he hadn’t been able to
reach the ovaries and this might become a problem later. The two of us, both
trained in medicine, decided: so what; if and when it were to happen we’d deal
with it at that time; right now let’s enjoy ourselves. We did, until one day
while skiing at Snowbird her right leg gave way; she fell and fractured the
femur. The fracture was taken care of within hours by an orthopedist at Alta
View and two days later she was home again, but skiing was no longer an option.
She continued to ride but increasing age
took its toll. She always had a slightly leaky heart valve, which gradually got
worse and atrial fibrillation also ensued which made life quite difficult for
her. The drugs against the fibrillation were useless and in view of her age,
she refused to consider surgery for the mitral valve insufficiency. Pain from
severe arthritis also became an increasing problem, to which was added last
year a bout of shingles. She bore all of these afflictions with stoicism and
her only concern was to take care of my needs, those of our children and our
home. We had in previous years enlarged the deck, where she could enjoy the sunshine
as well as shade from a magnificent maple tree.
During the early part of this year she
became increasingly incapacitated to the extent that all of us knew that her
life expectancy was limited to months and possibly another year or so. Krista,
therefore, applied in early August for a six month medical leave from the
University of Northern Arizona, where she holds the tenured position of Professor
of Humanities in the Department of Comparative Cultural Studies, to help out
with the household chores and other needs as they arise. It was granted and she
has been living with us since the middle of August. It is obvious, however,
that she also needs a life of her own and Martha, therefore, helped her find a
house that is within 15 minutes driving distance from ours so that she can
immediately be available when needed. On August 30 we had a party for family
and friends to celebrate my 90th birthday. Peter’s oldest daughter,
Lindsay, had earlier in the year given birth to her second child and Martha had
the joy to see and hold her latest great-granddaughter.
The doctors had been wrong! Not only did
she give birth to three healthy children, who grew up to be the pride and joy
of any parent, but she outlived most, if not all, of her cousins and even met
our fourth generation. The third
great-grandchild is on the way and more will be coming in due time from other
Martha and I, as rational beings, had
over the years frequently discussed what to do at the time of dying and death.
Legalities had to be attended to. Our Wills were identical, except for the
different first names, with one’s entire property going to the surviving
spouse. We also had a Living Will that specified that no artificial means (e.g.
cardiac resuscitation, mechanical respiration, infusion of nutrients) are to be
used to prolong the dying process. I had also made it clear to Martha and the
children that if I were to suffer a debilitating terminal illness I should be
allowed to stay at home, instead of being taken to a hospital, and no
medications, except for pain relief, were to be given. Food or fluids were not
to be forced into me and I shall die a natural death as our forebears always
did. Martha was in full agreement and insisted that this also was her wish.
Nevertheless, this was still personal
intention and no one knows what will really happen when the time comes. On
Tuesday October 6 Krista and the two of us went for brunch to the Silver Fork
in Big Cottonwood Canyon and on the way back I asked Krista to drive by the
house which she and Martha had selected but I had never before seen. She did
and it is indeed appropriate for her needs as long as I am alive. She will then
move to our home so that the rather beautiful property remains in the family.
On that afternoon the legalities in regard to Krista’s house were finalized and
she became the legal owner. Eric had also called that he might be able to take
a few days off and could come for a visit which I immediately urged him to do.
Wednesday morning I asked Martha for a
phone number I should have remembered but had forgotten. She tried to recall it
but gave up with an “oh shucks.” I told
her not to worry and went on with business at hand. But an hour or so later
noticed that she was aphasic. As a neurologist it was immediately apparent to
me that she had suffered a stroke that was limited to the speech area. At that
point Eric walked in and all of us felt that we had to take her to Alta View.
Instead of calling 9/11 we decided that we’d use her Subaru Crosstrack, which
had plenty of room, and a wheelchair was in the basement since my leg
fractures. Krista brought it up but when we tried to lift her into the
wheelchair she fought us to an extent that we knew that she intended to have
her previously announced wish respected. Her life was now complete, the
children were grown with thriving families of their own, Krista was here to
take care of my needs and now it was time to go.
Eric had come for vacation and was now
confronted with a disaster about which we could do nothing. Since he has
considerable problems of his own, with his wife currently undergoing
chemotherapy for breast cancer, I asked him to go up into the mountains in the
afternoon. He went to our favorite Big Cottonwood canyon and observed an
uncommon celestial phenomenon, which he photographed.
True; these are just two con-trails of
fighter jets from the nearby airbase but for us they had meaning. In the
evening we consulted with my friend and co-worker, Dr. Tawnya Constantino,
about what to do next. There were two options: home care or hospice. These are
separate entities with different responsibilities for the care providers. But this
division is arbitrary and there should be one system because death of the
elderly is becoming an increasing problem for the State and insurance
providers. We decided on hospice and a nurse arrived on Thursday to start the
Another unusual event had occurred
earlier that morning. In spite of her general weakness Martha insisted on going
to the bathroom under her own power and one of the three of us had to follow
her to prevent a tumble. She refused a cane or even one of our arms. For the
past several years she had slept on the couch in the family room in order not
to disturb me with her frequent nocturnal trips to the bathroom and to be able
to watch TV into the wee hours of the morning because due to relative
inactivity her sleep cycle was disrupted. She had picked out the couch herself
at the furniture store some years ago. It exactly fit her needs and under ordinary
circumstances she always got up at 6:30 in the morning to go to the bathroom
but on that Thursday there was a difference.
I slept soundly in our formerly joint
bed when I had an unusual dream. A fully clad woman sat next to me on the edge
of the bed with her back towards me. Surprised I cried out Oh (and her private term
of endearment), tried to touch her, but woke up. I looked at the clock it was
6:18. While wondering in the dark what this could have meant I developed the
feeling that Martha might be in trouble. Through the bottom of the closed door
I then could see that the bathroom light was on. I got up and found her on the
floor next to the toilet where she had fallen and couldn’t get up. She was
fully conscious and I helped her onto the seat. Under her own power she
returned thereafter to the couch with me in attendance.
The three of us then decided that we’d
have to arrange some type of watch system as is common in long distance
sailboat races where one of us is always at the helm and can alert the others
in case of need. Since from Thursday on Martha shoved us away when we tried to
give her some food, even a teaspoon of honey, or fruit juice it was apparent
that death would occur within a couple of weeks. Her attitude was: I want to
die, so please, please let me. We were in daily contact with Peter who said
that he could come at any moment and had already made plans to come on Monday
evening. Yet on Saturday I had the feeling that the situation might be more
urgent and asked him to come instead on Sunday before she loses consciousness
and enters terminal coma. He agreed.
On Sunday morning she was resting
quietly with eyes closed, as usual, and slightly labored respirations. It was
not clear if she was merely sleeping or comatose but it made no sense to do a
neurological exam because if she were to be asleep it would be cruel to wake
her up. So I sat in the armchair by the couch where I could watch her
respirations and be available in case of need. It was my shift because the kids
had gone to bed after theirs. After an hour or so, respirations had become more
regular and I thought that even if she were to be in coma some sensations might
get through to her consciousness. I, therefore, put on a CD of Mozart’s
clarinet and horn concertos and when that had ended replaced it with one of his
piano concertos. About a third of the way through, the CD started to stick
keeping to the same notes over and over again as was common with the old
gramophone records when they got stuck in a groove. I took the CD out of the player
and saw that it had a slight smudge which seemed to explain the problem. In so
doing I also noted, however, that Martha’s respirations had ceased. I got a
mirror from the bathroom held it against her open mouth and indeed there were
no respiration effects. Eric had in the meantime come up, brought me my
stethoscope and there was only silence instead of a heartbeat.
She had accomplished her goals in life
and now was released from pain and suffering. It had always been her wish that
the body be cremated and we honored it. After the Memorial Service later this
month, which will be held at Millcreek Inn where our second granddaughter,
Amber, was married, we will spread some of her ashes over places she had loved
in the mountains. The main urn, which is very beautiful, we partially buried
next to our favorite maple tree and a Buddha sculpture she had given me for the
85th birthday. It thereby remains visible to friends and family,
while being protected against the deer. They roam our backyard and might accidentally
break it if they were to flee in some panic. It will be joined by my ashes when
the time comes. For us she is not dead but keeps living in our minds for the
rest of our lives. The tears that intermittently well up in our eyes are not
mainly an expression of grief, but of gratitude to have been allowed to share
our lives with such a wonderful human being.
For her 80th birthday I wrote
a little poem; it’s no great poetry but expressed the feelings of our family
and is printed below.
TO OUR MATRIARCH
and far away
girl once saw the light of day.
around was rather bare
was nurtured by parents’ loving care.
taught her, though the times were bad,
is the life you led.
they matter not
learning brings decides your lot.
diligence, good will and faith
overcome life’s wantonness.
lovely maiden did she grow,
for good looks by high and low.
whoever came her way
her life’s mainstay.
creatures: creeping, flying, walking
and cherished, without much talking.
came from far and wide
take her as their bride.
they labored one and all
she’s spotted a lost soul.
ocean he had come
fame and fortune to be won.
sufficed to know, here was his fate:
trusting, loving, caring mate.
pity for the stranger
consented, unaware of danger
with him the rest of life.
promised her what was their need
love; security from hate and greed.
friend he thought he’d won
you know: mother she would soon become.
down life’s roller-coaster
wavered and only love did foster.
in due time did come
and honored her as Mom.
they produced for her
unstinting love she’d share.
eightieth birthday has arrived
feat, considering what you’ve survived.
So on this
day and future years
There are no fears!
you’ve spread among us all
you safe regardless what may fall.
goodness never fails
sorrow joy prevails.
achieved what’s rare today:
knowledge: that for you, we’re here to stay.
you have around
of us is duty bound,
gratitude to ease your body’s pain
WITH LOVE FROM YOUR