The Indianapolis journal. [volume] (Indianapolis [Ind.]) 1867-1904, 1897-08-08
cultivated Aches.

Dorothy Maddox, in Philadelphia Inquirer.
Cultivated aches seem, somehow. to meet
me at every turn. 1 have no patience with
them. Away from home they are especially
obnoxious.
Women who are determined to be swayed
by them should never dream of taking a
vacation. They get no pleasure out of life
themselves, and they seem determined that
nobody around them shall.
l have lost so many glorious moments
lately because of cultivated aches. A wom-
an the other morning, with the rarest of
landscapes, the softest of breezes, the snug
gest of rockers to enjoy, spent two mortal
hours pouring into my ear her physical
miseries.
She seemed so wrapped up in self that she
lost entire sight of her lovely surroundings,
and fairly reveled in imaginary pains. AS 1
listened to her tale of woe wondered at
the hardihood that could for one instant so
impose upon a comparative stranger.
1t may sound harsh to speak of this in
valid's pains as imaginary. Justice compels
the criticism. l admit they were, to her,
very real, simply because she had deter
mined they should be. All in the world she
needed was a good stirring up. Could some
force have been applied, mental or physi-
cal, that would have taken her completely
out OF self the cure would have been COM
plete.
Her family fostered the awful fault. From
the time she was trotted out in her easy
chair in the morning until she was bundled
OFF TO bed at night she was physically ca
tered at in every imaginable way. The
youngest born never failed when she APP
preached this would-be invalid mother TO
ask, Mamma, how do you feel?"
When the husband appeared at night the
first question was: And how has our in
valid passed the day."
Then followed such a string of complaints
that nifipA from n heart tho uyQn nv
looking listener. And L wanted to shake the
selfish creature, who might, by a single
sentence, have rested that poor husband of
hers as no ocean breezes ever could.
No, she eagerly caught at every straw of
sympathy drifting her way, and, clinging
to it, landed successfully all her complaints.
The veriest shade of difference from yester-
days feelings she commented upon, punctu-
ated by a melancholy droop about the
mouth, a languid cast about the eyelids, and
deep-drawn signs of resignation hat 1 have
heard every evening l CHANGED to see this
meeting.
Cultivated aches begin in childhood.
Mothers coddle every toe-ache of the small
girl until she has developed into such a sell
fish body that there is no living with her.
some fancied spiritual kinship, he sells his
soul for a mess of pottage.
Saddled for life with a wife who has been
allowed since her babyhoOd to cultivate
every ache, what can he do but grin and
bear with his fate? If sensible enough TO
try to arouse the complaining one out of
her -selflshnesS he is called a brute, and so
he slips along as best he can, falling day by
day into the groove that carries him along
the smoothest, that carries him along the
ailments.
God help the man so afflicted. If true to
the wearisome one he deserves a crown. A
real physical trouble should call out the
tenderest sympathies in a mans nature.
Aches that are cultivated day by day and
year by year are a nuisance to friends and
family.
Self examination is a blessed, good thing.
Examine your real physical condition. Do
this before it is too late. How many of your
ills, my invalid, are imaginary, and how
many are real? Fight down with all the
you have been cultivating. Do this for the
sake of the love your womanly soul Graves.
Do it quickly.