photograph by anna traverse
Dido on the beach.
I woke to the disorientation of a shadowy and unfamiliar bedroom. The mattress was a little too soft, and the windows had shifted from the north walls, where they are at home, to the west. Outside, a soft breeze rustled the scrubby pines and spiky palms, and on my skin, the faint lingering abrasion of sand. To my right, the puppy, Dido, stirred in her kennel, ready for another day, another adventure, another stick (or entire tree limb) to gnaw upon, another mouthful of seaweed carried triumphantly in her teeth. Yes: We were at the beach, on a barrier island chosen specifically for its relaxed and dog-friendly ways, and another morning was breaking open, spilling its bright glow over the saltwater and sand dunes.
After many months of too much work, not enough sleep, and a constant, gnawing sense of being slightly behind, we had decided it was time for a change of scenery. No big itinerary, for once. No international flights, no need for passports and adapters, no jetlag, no grand plans. Just a drive south, through Mississippi and Alabama and into Florida. By the end of the drive, the road was long and straight and flanked on both sides with pine trees as far as the eye could see, and I felt a little like I had stepped into a computer screensaver, hurtling forward through the same image repeated infinitely, dizzyingly. Then, a bridge to an island, with a single grocery store (Piggly Wiggly! Bless!) and a permanent population of under 1000, not counting the birds. Sandpipers, terns, gulls, plovers, wrens, kites, flycatchers, and an Eastern wood-pewee! Dido loved the sandpipers best of all, by which I mean she wanted to chase them most of all, and proved to be a little sandpiper herself: skittering toward the edge of the surf, then bounding back again the moment the saltwater grazed her gangly paws.
photograph by anna traverse
On a trip to the beach, and especially with a very (very) active not-quite-six-month-old puppy, I was struck by how fortunate I am to be able to keep up with my own curiosities, and with those of an endlessly fascinated young dog-soul. I don’t take for granted my ability to walk and, lately, to run: Nothing like a puppy in hyperdrive to get you to lace up the running shoes and go. Against all odds, I feel younger and more energetic at 41 than I did at 21 — which is only saying so much; my early 20s were a shipwreck, a minefield.
In a recent visit to the doctor, my primary physician reminded me, as he has in past years, that the most important metric of health is how we feel: how much energy we bring to our days, whether we’re able to chase after the puppy when she’s just made off with a shoe. This is a reminder I need to hear repeated, over and over again (along with, crucially, regular checks to make sure nothing is seriously but invisibly amiss). I’ve written before about how my parents both died far too young — at 51 and 64 — and both from rare and not very treatable cancers. It’s little wonder that I would live in constant dread of some terrible diagnosis of my own. But I’d really prefer not to waste these precious days and years when I feel good fretting about the possibility that my own personal sky could fall. Of course it could. But probably not today, and that’s worth more than a little.
photograph by anna traverse
Each year, in June, we publish a list of “Top Doctors,” and this June is no exception; you’ll find that list, as well as spotlights on several individual physicians, on the pages within. The list is compiled by an outside organization, not by our staff, and that’s for a reason: We want to provide you with comprehensive and peer-reviewed information when it comes to your medical choices. Unlike, say, our annual restaurant poll, the doctors’ list is compiled without reader or staff input, without consideration for popularity, likeability, or advertising budget.
Regardless of whether you’re looking for a new doctor or just maintaining your current regimen, we hope you’ll make good use of the many, many capable and caring healthcare providers in Memphis. I know from personal experience that medical anxiety can lead to medical avoidance; sometimes it feels easier to bypass issues that seem frightening or stressful or just annoying. But I also know that I feel more confident and less afraid when I make the appointment, show up for the visit, ask the questions, listen to the recommendations.
And then I can lose myself in the moments on the sand, spinning in circles with my four-legged maniac, chasing and being chased by waves. Strong and healthy enough to keep going, sun in our faces and wind on our backs, for as long as we please.
