Dr. Nutone Reveals the Secret of Transcendental Misanthropy

There's No Cure for Gretchen Lowe
“I’ve given a lot of thought to how Transcendental Misanthropy relates to conventional medicine. Of course it has a lot to do with intention. If your doctor prescribes an anti-depressant that gives you side effects that are about as debilitating as your depression, does that make your doctor a practitioner of Transcendental Misanthropy? Has your doctor embraced the essential paradox that pain relieves – increases, paradoxically – pain? The simple use of ‘side effects’ and ‘mild discomfort’ to describe loss of sexual function, insomnia and in the case of weight-loss treatments, bowel control, inspires my respect, I have to tell you.  Language is really something.

“I began to wonder why Max and Emma were considered lesser beings than my colleagues in the department, particularly the older ones and the guy with the hearing aid. I began to resent the condescending questions about my ‘pets.’ One day at a faculty senate meeting, I had my awakening. Max and Emma’s consciousnesses were equal to that of my human colleagues. In some cases superior. They had, after all, achieved for themselves lives we might envy in their ease and comfort. What they lacked was respect from others. What they lacked were their rights.”


“As our Eastern brothers have taught us, though failed to incorporate into a saleable product — although certain towns as Sedona, much of western Colorado, and just about all the Open Access workshop catalog, contradict this failure — attention is critical to our well-being. Or in this case our suffering. Escalation, escalation, escalation — escalating torment until it becomes unbearable is the way.
“You can’t do this without paying a whole lot of attention to what irritates you, what hurts your feelings. How you do it is up to you. I’ve known spiritual seekers in Marin who broke down in tears because their robes weren’t made of the right cotton. Seen fruitarians come to blows with botanists who tell them they’re actually eating vegetables.

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Sorrow, Bright-Eyed Now, After Meeting Her Death

for Belma González
I

BIPAPSTWhen Gretchen landed in the hospital again with pneumonia in 1993 she learned she had something called sleep apnea, plus chronic respiratory failure and minor heart damage that she, only 27, could expect to heal with proper treatment. At the first Wednesday morning meeting following her return to work a few weeks later, the West-Hesperidan women’s free clinic staff apologized to her. Even with her cane, Gretchen couldn’t stand long enough for fourteen women to express remorse so everyone stayed seated instead of making a circle around her. The gist was that while they knew Gretchen had muscular dystrophy, they still hadn’t thought of her “like that.” They said they were sorry for not respecting that Gretchen had a disability and for assuming that she had been lazy and napping at her desk when she was, in fact, semi-conscious and unconscious, depending on the time of day.

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