Thursday, September 19, 2019

MAMÁ GLORIA.MI HEROINA


GUANTÁNAMO: MAMÁ GLORIA.MI HEROINA

GUANTÁNAMO: MAMÁ GLORIA. MI HEROÍNA.




   Yo tenía la prohibición de Cuba de no visitar a mis familiares por  17 años.
  Llamaba a Mamá Gloria por teléfono  cada mes.
  -¿Cómo te sientes mamá?
  - Barbara, hijo. Y a ti. ¿Cómo te va?
  - Macanudo, extrañándolos mucho…
   - Ay hijo. Aquí no hay café, ni aceite, ni pan fresco, ni harina. Castro nos ha quitado todo.
    Decia con humor. Y yo advertía:
   -¡Mamá! Que seguridad del estado te puede oír!…
  - Ya yo estoy vieja para temerle a esa partida de chivatos…. Ahora están  vendiéndonos unos chicharos de color  rojo… Dicen que los cultivan a escondidas en las tierras rojas de Baracoa.
   -Está bien Mamá.  Pero… ¿Qué hay de nuevo?
   - Bueno. Tú sabes que mi único padecimiento es que estoy ciega… Se murió tu prima M…. de  cáncer intestinal y tu otra prima Fe… de cáncer del pulmón por fumar como una cafetera. Pero la vida sigue, hijo, todos vamos al hueco tarde o temprano.  Yo le hablo a Dios directamente ya no confío ni en los curas. A veces le doy un escándalo en silencio o le pido perdón, eso de acuerdo al mal o bien que nos rodea.
  Mamá había sufrido la pérdida de dos hijos ya grandes y de mi padre. Los lloraba a veces pero decía que era la voluntad del altísimo y seguía con su buen humor y alegría.
     Entre mi hermano y yo la trajimos al Uruguay con mi hermano más chico que había quedado en Cuba. Gran emoción verlos sentí después de tantos años.
  -Vamos. Nada de llantos. Aquí estoy entera y feliz de verlos.
  Los hospedamos en la casa de mi hermano y mi cuñada uruguaya frente a la playa con el frescor del mar y el sol aun picante de los primeros días de otoño.
  Mi hermanito me dijo:
  -Ella dice que no ve nada, que está  ciega, pero despidió a la mujer que la cuidaba y ella misma limpiaba la acera con la escoba y veía la novela de las 8 pm en Cuba.
   La familia la observaba y le decía:
  - Abuela, pero usted algo ve.
  - Sí. Pero veo todo como entre una nube.
   -Entonces, ¿Cómo ve el polvo del corredor?
  - No pregunta. No más pregunta. Y la novela no la veo… La oigo.
  La primera vez que la llevamos a un gran supermercado dijo:
   -¡Pero que bodega más grande! ¿No se pierden entre tantos estantes? ¿Aquí hay guías?
   Le mostramos todo el shopping paseando entre las góndolas repletas de artículos y alimentos.
  - ¡Ave María Purísima! Pero cuántas cosas que no necesitan. Yo con un pedazo de carne, un plato de frijoles con arroz me conformo. Ahh. ¿Esos son chorizos?
   -SÍ, mamá, de todos los gustos y tamaños- le dijo mi hermano.
   -Pues de esos me compran... que Castro los eliminó y mi familia gallega y mi difunta madre los preparaba en el patio de la casa al borde del río Guaso y yo me acostumbré a comerlos, tengo antojo de chorizos.
     Yo le había comprado en Montevideo tres vestidos de lujo para que los llevara a Cuba. Los examinó, los estrujó entre sus dedos para apreciar su textura y me dijo:
  -¿Esta es la vestimenta que se ponen las mujeres maduras aquí?
  -Sí. Mamá. Y hay uno de seda pura.
  - ¿Cuál, el de color vino?
  - Sí- le dije.
  - Pues yo no me voy a poner eso en Cuba. Para mí,  batas blancas sencillas para andar en casa y vestidos  de  muchos colores para ir a los velorios. Esto se los regalaré a mi hermana que es más joven y siempre ha sido más audaz que yo.
Y continuó:
  -Ropa así me ponía para salir con tu padre a bailar al  Casino Español que Castro después convirtió en una casa de Cultura. Una porquería. Además, mi  difunto marido me colocaba una flor en el hombro izquierdo para demostrarme su amor.
  -Mamá. Aun no eres tan anciana. ¿Por qué no te echas un novio?
  - No hijo. Yo fui muy feliz con tu padre y seguí lo que me enseñaba la Iglesia Católica. “Un hombre para toda la vida” Le di 5 hijos pero él se fue antes que yo. Se me acercan algunos pretendientes, viejos sin dinero y sin casas, pero yo los espanto a todos. Tu padre fue mi primer amor, el único y así moriré.

  Me recuerdo de mi abuela  paterna “Presentación” viuda de un rico mercader y usurero. Mi abuela cultivaba su gran jardín en la mansión que vivía en el Reparto Dabul. Usaba un lindo sombrero de pajas adornado con flores, la única concesión que le daba el ser mujer. Era seria y casi no reía. Nos preparaba unas vainillas cada domingo cuando la visitábamos con mis padres en la camioneta.
  Cultivó una rosa Dalia que era su orgullo. Mi madre se tiró una foto junto a la flor que aún conserva entre sus archivos fotográficos. Mi abuela Presenta como les decíamos,  tenía un revolver guardado para espantar a los ladrones o intrusos ya que en aquellos tiempos el barrio Dabul estaba un poco lejos de la ciudad.
   Una tarde, siendo yo  médico y teniendo ya mi abuela como 86 años se sintió mal del abdomen y la llevé en mi auto al hospital ya casi inconsciente.
  El cirujano era de mi entera confianza y amigo mio. Mientras le hacía una maniobra que no deseo describir, mi abuela seminconciente empezó a gritar “Cojones, Cojones” Le salió todo lo de gallega que conservaba de su juventud, Murió tranquilamente esa noche y sus últimas palabras fueron  “Cojones, Cojones”. Pobre abuela mia. Murió como un jiquí, dura y seria como siempre había sido.   

  Días después una prima gallega de mi madre le hizo un almuerzo en su honor en el hotel del cual era dueña.
  La mesa estaba repleta de manjares suculentos. Mamá sin pedir permiso agarró un cuarto de pollo asado y se lo comió con las manos sin ceremonia alguna. Después se sirvió un plato de cerdo asado con verduras.  Se la estaba desquitando del pasado en que la dictadura la había privado de aquellos alimentos.
   Yo solo comí cerdo asado y algunas vegetales pues ya se había descubierto mi diabetes y estaba con tratamiento con hipoglucemiantes orales. No le había dicho nada a mamá.
  La repostera del hotel había hecho una tarta de durazno o melocotones y mucho merengue. Yo no pude resistir la tentación y comí un buen pedazo. De repente me dio deseos urgentes de ir al baño. En el camino me encontré a la repostera que tenía glaucoma, un ojo saltón y que miraba hacia otro lado en contraposición con el otro ojo aparentemente sano. También mi hermanito que iba para el baño.
  Entonces sucedió lo inesperado, un rotundo gas retumbó en el espacio y yo salí corriendo hacia el inodoro.
   Más tarde mi hermanito, que había presenciado mi situación junto a la pastelera me dijo:
   - ¡Compay te lánzate un gas que a la mujer se le enderezó el ojo y se le metió pa’ dentro!
  Yo me reí de sus palabras. Fue una de los chistes que después comentábamos en familia y todos nos reíamos, sobre todo mi madre.
    Esa noche mi madre la despertó un cólico intestinal de la hartura que se había dado en el almuerzo del hotel.
    Yo la examiné.
    -Es una ingesta mamá. Comiste demasiado. Tus  enzimas para digerir tanta comida inusual se han dormido. Ve ahora al baño y evacua.
  Así lo hizo mi querida vieja y después, aliviada, se durmió junto a mi hermanito como una niña.
     Mamá no le gustaban los cartuchos envasados o en blister de café que les comprábamos:
  -Esto no es café, muy refinado y glaseado. A mí me gusta el café en grano que en Cuba yo tostaba en un caldero con azúcar prieta. Ese sí era café del bueno. No este sintético, sea colombiano o brasileño. Nada como una tacita de  café cubano.   
  Después de dos meses de estancia en casa de mi hermano y escuchando bajo una sombrilla de la terraza canciones de Celia Cruz y Marco Antonio Solís mi madre le entró la añoranza de su casa en Cuba y dijo que quería irse.
  Mi hermanito que hacia como un año había abierto una pizzería al lado de casa estaba también preocupado por cómo estaba el negocio.
  Y al se fueron.
  Cuando la llamé días después por teléfono me dijo con humor:
  - No hay café, ni aceite, ni arroz solo chícharo de Baracoa.
  Y no la volví a ver hasta que después de 17 años me permitieron visitar a mi familia.

TROVA Orlando Vicente Alvarez #Carlos Varela, Abrahan, Ballesta, Fidel-Castro-bendice, Guillermo Tell-y-su-hijo, Isaac, Manzana-de-Castro, Nueva-Trobs-cubana, Pablo Milanes, Silvio Rodriguez

CUBA: GUILLERMO TELL, LA BALLESTA, EL HIJO Y LA MANZANA



Image result for CARLOS varela imagen






CUBA: GUILLERMO TELL, LA BALLESTA, EL HIJO Y LA MANZANA.


       En homenaje a Carlos Varela, cantautor cubano.


  Ya estamos cansados de probar la fuerza y el valor de Castro apuntando con su ballesta a una manzana en la cabeza de su hijo.

  Castro usaba al pueblo, a los soldados, para  pregonar la firmeza de su ballesta al disparar a la manzana   sobre la cabeza del hijo. Sin el temor humano de que el pulso  le fallara, de matar al hijo en un sacrificio ante sus enemigos  para demostrar la firmeza de la Revolución ante el supuesto enemigo.

  Recuerdo el intento de sacrificio de Abrahán de su primogénito Isaac, por demostrarle a un Dios que ni siquiera conocía por su nombre ni lo había visto, su fe inquebrantable al Altísimo. No me imagino los ojos desorbitados del hijo al ver a su querido viaje acercar un filoso cuchillo a su cuello. Terror e incredulidad es lo que debe haber sentido.

  Así Castro apuntaba con su ballesta a la manzana de sus hijos que creían en él. Era la generación revolucionaria que confiaba ciegamente al líder que empuñaba el arma y estaban dispuestos a sacrificarse. Fidel nunca tomaría el lugar del hijo. Era un manipulador y un cobarde. Muerte y sacrificio para otros. Así, sacrificó a los soldados que fueron a África y a otros países latinoamericanos. La manzana, encima de otras cabezas, no sobre la de él.

  Ahora otra generación que no conoció las luchas de antaño frente al dictador Batista adquirían otra conciencia, cansados de llevar manzanas sobre la testa mientras los mismos ballesteros, que no daban el relevo a otros nuevos, se revelaban, cansados de ser ejemplos para que un Tirano siguiera su propaganda por el mundo. Y comenzó un nuevo exilio. Las mejores mentes cubanas hacia tierras desconocidas, no importa dónde, la cuestión era que estaban cansadas del juego del ballestero en jefe.

Y esta nueva generación, la que se quedó en Cuba, le tocó el turno de agarrar la ballesta y colocar manzanas en la vieja generación comunista.

  Pero no sería fácil. Los dictadores les gusta siempre la manzana en otra cabeza, aunque sean sus  hijos y que murieran en el lance.

   Difícil me costó comprender la canción de Varela. Pero ente líneas decia una gran verdad que el pueblo sensible pero callado comprendía por instinto.

   Había visto a Fidel Castro bendecir en el Aeropuerto de la Habana a Silvio Rodríguez y Pablo Milanés cuando vio por la TV foránea movilizar multitudes en sus conciertos en Chile, Argentina Y Uruguay. El Jefe Máximo atisbó la importancia política de la nueva troba como arma de influencia en la región, no le bastaba las guerrillas e infiltrados, sino también la música militante. Y los bendijo a ambos, colocándole las manos  en la cabeza. Silvio ya era casi calvo por lo que el bautismo de Castro le llegó más rápido al cerebro.  Pablo Milanés tenía el pelo rizo en un spell drum tipo  negro americano por lo que los rayos mágicos del comandante no le penetraron tan profundamente.

  Después de eso Silvio escribió “Canción urgente para Nicaragua”. Se había hecho un trovador oficialista. Luego, al parecer desencantado, escribió sus mejores canciones, verdaderos poemas musicalizados de un lirismo que envidiarían los mejores poetas.  Pablo no se politizó, hizo algunas críticas tibias al sistema y continuó sus giras por América. Se comenta que a Silvio le descubrieron en “Papeles de Panamá” cuentas bancarias muy jugosas. Era un premiado por ser un cantante oficialista, de los “intocables”

   Pero  saltó a la fama Carlos Varela y sus canciones, con olor a crítica, no las pasaban por la radio. “Tomar en cuenta esto los otros cantautores que se atrevan a disentir del régimen”

      Gracias, Carlos Varela, fuiste uno de los primeros en cantar en metáfora lo que las nuevas generaciones anhelaban y se sentían.

  GUILLERMO TELL, CARLOS VARELA

“Guillermo Tell no
Comprendió a su hijo
Que un día se aburrió
De la manzana en la cabeza”
“Echó a correr
Y el padre lo maldijo pues
Cómo entonces iba
A probar su destreza”

“Guillermo Tell, tu hijo creció
Quiere tirar la flecha
Le toca a él probar
Su valor usando tu ballesta”

“Guillermo Tell no
Comprendió el empeño
Pues quién se iba a arriesgar
Al tiro de esa flecha

Y se asustó cuando dijo
El pequeño, ahora
Le toca al padre
La manzana en la cabeza”

“Guillermo Tell, tu hijo creció
Quiere tirar la flecha
Le toca a él probar su valor
Usando tu ballesta”

“A Guillermo Tell no
Le gustó la idea
Y se negó a ponerse
La manzana en la cabeza”

“Diciendo que no
Era que no creyera
Pero qué iba a pasar si
Sale mal la flecha”

“Guillermo Tell, tu hijo creció
Quiere tirar la flecha
Le toca a él probar su valor
Usando tu ballesta”

“Guillermo Tell no comprendió
A su hijo que un día se aburrió
De la manzana
En la cabeza “   

Orlando Vicente Álvarez

  

Wednesday, September 18, 2019

Phrase about Cuban Writers. SENTENCE: The Cuban writers are grouped into the UNEAC by the government and transformed into bureaucrats. Innovative writers who reflect the reality of the people are transformed into Dissidents. Dr Orlando Vicente Álvarez.


Phrase about Cuban Writers.  SENTENCE:   The Cuban writers are grouped into the UNEAC by the government and transformed into bureaucrats.   Innovative writers who reflect the reality of the people are transformed into Dissidents.    Dr Orlando Vicente Álvarez.
.......

Frase Sobre Escritores Cubanos.



 FRASE:

  A los escritores cubanos el gobierno los agrupa en la UNEAC  y los transforma en burócratas.
  A los escritores innovadores que reflejan la realidad del pueblo los transforman en Disidentes.


        Orlando Vicente Álvarez.

Tuesday, September 17, 2019

TO OUR GRANDCHILDRENS WITH LOVE.


TO OUR GRANDCHILDRENS WITH LOVE.

Image result for abuelo nieta

 TO  OUR GRANDCHILDRENS WITH LOVE.

  It must be seen that with the birth of our first child it seemed a blessing from God and a biological miracle. The same thing should happen to most parents.

  It seemed to us in large part a natural event fruit of the love of parents.

   We watched them grow, take their first steps and say their first words that were Dad or Mom. And it seemed to us the most natural thing in the world. We were young and so was life.

  Later, when they were older, more severe demands began for them to be organized and disciplined and future men or women of good, always in the religious beliefs of their parents.

  Years later, adolescence arrived, the period of rebellion that all the children go through in which everything changes, until it seems that we are no longer important in their lives and that our advice is from another world. 

  And we suffer, for not understanding well that it is a normal stage of independence that everyone has to go through many values that we have instilled.

  Then comes the crush and courtship. We think we lose a part of them and especially their love. We are selfish in appropriating the feelings of our children, until we resign. And we have to compete with a son-in-law or daughter-in-law who comes to divide us, almost always, as a family, especially in Cuba in which two or three generations live together under the same roof.

  And at the time of the arrival of the first grandson or granddaughter, what a love that renews us! It had existed as a pause in love that our children showed us. But the arrival of a granddaughter "pregnant" us grandparents too.

  Be careful to give many tips and notices to our daughter about pregnancy, despite having also been parents and have experience. Great care. 

  Children want to do things their own way, and they label us as old,  very intrusive in the process.

  When my granddaughter was born here in Uruguay by caesarean section because of an Eclampsia, the baby weighed 860 grams. I was at her side and cried like a kid. 

 The calm mother, in another room, hoped that everything would work out, that life was like that. Only left in God hands.

  MY granddaughter fit in one hand and was in an incubator for two months. The CTI doctor said that the baby was a fighter and that she would have a lot of character. She clung to life with all her might.

  Weeks later they allowed her to breastfeed and feed her with mother's milked milk. The father always trusted that the baby would get ahead. 

  So it was.One day, she was discharged from the Mutualist and what emotion I felt when I supported her against my heart as if she were a miracle of God. 

  I am a doctor, I saw in Nicaragua how premature babies died daily. But science had advanced for good and the discovery of the Surfactant for lung maturation had been miraculous.

  Now my granddaughter walks and calls me TATA instead of telling me Grandfather and has a very special language in which some vowels and pieces of songs that only the mother understands are heard.

  She is still breastfeeding and ate food. I feel so much love for the girl that I download in her what my children did not have in Cuba. Filling her with toys every time I see her in exchange for some attention and love. It is a mistake to buy so many toys. Only on special days of the year. Thus they learn to value things. But my daughter and son-in-law don't tell me anything.

  Another thing, when she has some diarrhea, the mother calls me alarmed at the cell and asks for advice: I tell her that her mother, my wife in Cuba, gave her an infusion of the fruit peel of Granada - which was a holy remedy - and salts of oral rehydration and that did not suspend the chest. But they don't listen to the advice from an old but experienced doctor and take it to the Pediatrician who advises the same except that he doesn't know the fruit of Granade.

 But grandchildren are another resurgence of the deep love we gave to our children, and a greening of the importance of having a close grandfadad who is only called Tata, still.

                                     Orlando Vicente Álvarez

DON'T GO TO THE PSYCHIATRIST. Freud, Jung., Methuselah-Syndrome, Mind-Political-Power, psychologist, Psyquiatric-Drugs-Ttreatment, Therapy-of-Mental-Illness


WITH THE ROPE TO THE NECK? DON'T GO TO THE PSYCHIATRIST.

Image result for psychiatric and patients

 WITH THE ROPE TO THE NECK? DON'T GO TO THE PSYCHIATRIST.

 Some time in consultation came a patient who taught me a role to present in offices of help to those in need of the government on duty

 .- And what is this saying here? I don't understand. The psychiatrist who attends to me wrote it to me-he said in a broken voice.

. I took the sheet in my hands and read it:"Diogenes Syndrome mixed with Narcissus Syndrome Type II"

  I was thoughtful for a few moments and said:

  -Better go to a Psychoanalyst who knows a lot about Hermeneutics and Exegesis, which they know more than a psychiatrist about this disease.

 - And what is that Doctor?

  -It is about the study and decryption of ancient writers, especially the Holy Scriptures, the Bible.

  - And what do I have to do with that, Doctor? I'm a calm man, I worked my whole life and now that the years have lifted me with a heavy load. I come with this?

  -Ahh. The psychiatrists, the psychiatrists! Go with the psychoanalyst, please, who are the best connoisseurs of mental illness. And they don't prescribe as many medications as psychiatrists that produce side effects and then more drugs come to counteract these. In the end, you look worse than when you first came in.-And I continued after a pause, -the problem with psychoanalysts is that they take their time to diagnose you- 7 or 10 years, it depends on your pocket- And they also fall asleep at times during the consultation and from time to time they wake up to say: "Please continue, continue, we are already making great progress" - and after another pause - "By the way: What time is it?"
 And you say: "But it's only been 40 minutes, Doctor!"

  And the psychoanalyst tells you with the greatest patience:

  -No matter the time if it is well spent. Until next week ... Ahh. Don't forget your credit card. A week ago my fees aren't paid by you

.-Ahh. Yes. That the psychiatrist diagnosed you with a metal disease that I already know.

-YES. It seems so Doctor. But he caught my attention  only once, a year and a half ago, he saw me personally in his office. Then he sent his secretary to repeat the medication, like this, without more or more.

  -And why didn't you complain?

  -I didn't want to bother them, Doctor. They work hard because this world is getting worse: people suffering everywhere.

  -But as you say here on paper you have a mental illness...

  -What mental illness, or mental illness! I only went to see a psychiatrist.

  The old man left the office with short steps as if life itself had been shattered.

  It wasn't like thousands of years ago when mental illnesses were treated by the sorcerer or the village spiritist. Or else, they stoned the individual as possessed by some evil spirit and ended the evil.   Or they stoned him, hanged him, exiled him or another form of torture

 .Then, over time the priests arrived who, with confession, penance, repentance and prayer as 28 Hail Mary and 40 Our Father, intended to cure the sick. If this didn't work then they called an exorcist of experience and all the demons - there were all kinds of evil spirits that tormented the psyche of the sufferer, and holy remedy. If they did'nt expel them, they locked him in a special convent with a closed cell and kept him in bread and water, until he died, thus they ended the evil root.

  I saw a documentary of the black AFRICA where a sorcerer sanctified in a tongue of his ancestors a young man, prostrate on a palm branch in the open air, to cure him of an Acute Appendicitis. Then he gave him a very old potion to drink. The young man stood or died - the evil spirit had triumphed - but in this case the boy was cured of his ailment. It was a matter of faith and cultural tradition.

  Then Sigmund Freud arrived who complicated everything with the psychoanalytic revolution. And he went to Greek mythology — it had to be the Greeks because everyone was crazy starting with Plato and his atomic theory.

   There arose several Syndromes that explained the complexity of the human soul: Diogenes, Oedipus, Electra-Jung-, Cronos, Ulises. Even Penelope Syndrome - yes Ulysses' wife who waited for him for 20 years being faithful, this type of female is no longer seen - was mentioned in psychoanalysis.

  But Freud didn't remain calm. The human soul was so complex - and he made a pandemonium of it - So, it wasn't enough with so many Gods to name mental illnesses. No. He didn't stay there.The Creso Complex, the Achilles Complex, emerged. And finally, not satisfied - the Greek Gods ran out - explained the Oedipus Complex that so many headaches brought to psychoanalysis - most specialists were already developing some of these Syndrome that is, they went crazy and invented the Complex  of Complex Sarah Bernard famous actress of the early twentieth century that mobilized crowds with her performances in the theater. SARAH BERNHARDT OFFENDS CUBANS in 19 October 1905
Alleged to have classified Islanders as "Negroes  in Dress Clothes." The reality was that a cuban creole had touched her beautiful ass in the crowd.

   Since it wasn't enough for those who had clearly explained the Doctor who revolutionized the approach to new mental illnesses, which had always existed but a man like him had to emerge to complicate things.

  Then the Phobias arose:

  Ablutophobia: fear of water and hand washing - in colloquial language: the Pig Complex.

  Acluophobia: fear of darkness - especially applied to children who want to sleep with a candle lit or more modernly, with an electric lamp. This is eliminated when the boy reaches adolescence, has a girlfriend and looks for a dark place in the street to satisfy his imperative sexual need. There the fear of darkness dissapear.

  Agateophobia, dementophobia or maniaphobia: fear of madness or going crazy: how things are going to that phobia we all arrive sooner or later especially the psychiatrists who already have some.

   And so many Phobias that psychoanalysts and psychiatrists confused them all: one who feared the dark was called Dark Phobia, those who feared bathing, DirtyPhobia, and so on.

  But Freud's most controversial theory was why human beings developed attraction to the opposite sex. He called the man "fear of castration" and the woman "penis envy" All to overcome the Oedipus Complex in his childhood. He didn't see that the human couple f... because yes, it is a natural and evolutionary instinct to preserve the species.

  That's why I say that Freud and Jung were already crazy when they wrote their treatises, especially Freud in "The interpretation of dreams" as a cartomantic that tells you that it means the dream that is usually that you are going to break a lightning bolt or fill your hands of money. 

   Also in "Toten and Taboo" that I shot hidden in the University of Cuba, and other studies that more than psychoanalysis or psychiatric seemed inspiration of a sensitive and observant artist. The cinema hadn't yet developed in all its fullness but would have been inspired by the form of the rockets, spaceships, zeppelin, etc.  to see a symbolic "phallus" in all of them, because man is increasingly sexually impotent and the proliferation of Gays make them see those symbols everywhere.

  A 92-year-old patient with a clear mind, who told me that she had never suffered a Depression in her life and had been very happy, went to a psychiatrist. The doctor was speechless. Some Syndrome had to endilgate the old woman. And he told her that she was carrying “Methuselah Syndrome” but she was not going to leave like that so much as a consultation. He prescribed a lot of psychotropic drugs so that the old woman wouldn't leave without a diagnosis and treatment. The poor woman wanted to be put to rest because she had lived long enough, had enjoyed life, her family had already died and she wanted the Lord to take her now, but with a little help. The doctor prescribed some drugs that bedridden her. Thus she died unconscious. This time the doctor had been very insightful.

  I also made my contribution to Psychoanalysis or Psychiatry when I was practicing in a city in Nicaragua.

  Inspired by the Judeo-Christian Holy Scriptures, I dared to invent the "Adam and Eve Syndrome.

  "When God made Paradise He saw that  needed a human partner: man and woman He created them. But He didn't know why He had put a phallus on the man and a cleft  between  the woman legs.

  The two human creatures didn't know what they were for either. God for the doubt that those parts of the anatomy were going to give him many problems later  said:

  -You might eat all kinds of fruits from the garden of Eden less that tree of juicy, bright and large peaches, you will not eat them because then my fury will spill on you and the utopia of Paradise will disappear, as before there was nothing.

   I don't believe in the legend of the snake gossiping the couple that they ate peach fruits. The truth is that a bad creature said Eva," took a fruit one day - women are always the first in everything, especially in that of sin - and eat it"

  She found it delicious and said to the man:

  -"Bite the fruit so you can see how good it is. If you like it, I'll make you peach pie later”

  Adam followed Eva's advice and ate the fruit of the forbidden tree. 

  Then, a fever seized them and an unknown impulse spread through the two bodies to the point that those anatomical parts that they didn't know what they were for were perfectly coupled, giving them the greatest pleasure of their lives.

  The Peach tree was left without a single fruit in a few days and even the leaves disappeared.

  God found out. The Archangel Gabriel, who was tremendous gossip and confidant, told the Most High that his prohibition had been broken. God came down from their heavenly mansions - the dictators of today have them with swimming pools and all the luxury that the people don't enjoy - and cursed Adam and Eve lose the Paradise that had cost them so much to build - in those times the mortar, beasts and birds had to be imported from all over the world, which had cost the entire heavenly court an immeasurable fortune that plunged into great spiritual inflation.

  Total. If they don't have those anatomical accidents Gog himself had created them to obtain offspring and the human species  disappeared. He never knew why He had forbidden them to use them. Was it because of the pleasure they brought, which He was deprived of?

  A reliable example of this Adam and Eve Syndrome that I discovered was provided by my consulting secretary in Nicaragua. She was a shy girl. Very well arranged and fragrant with perfume. One day she asked me that she wanted to ask me something. She said in a shameful and modest voice, with her face on and her head down:

 -Look Doctor. The problem is that my husband and I eagerly wish to have a child but we have been trying for a year and a half and nothing.

   My medical instinct told me that there were something wrong with the couple's sexual relations and I said:

   - Does he use condoms or do you take the pills or does the man spill his seed out of your gut? -I told her very tactfully.

   -I don't know, Doctor. If I have never seen him - the virile member - I haven't touched it or anything like that. Also, I don't take the pill and I don't know if I he uses a condom or not.

-So you don't feel pleasure?

-No Doctor. I feel like a green banana, long and hard, will destroy my guts every night.

   -What position do they make love in? -I asked.

   - On all fours always, as if I were a bitch.

   My mind lit up:

  - So your husband penetrates you against nature?

  - And what is that, Doctor?

  -He never puts himself on top of you and makes love to you from the front slit?

  No. Doctor. Isn't that opening to urinate and for a baby to 
  be born?

-"Virgin Mary," I said in amazement, "then you are still a virgin!"

-Oh my God. Do not mention our Dear Mother of Christ in this filth!

-I meant that you are still like a virgin for not making love as God commands.-I paused-Bring your husband to the office to talk to him. He is a donkey with two legs.That's why you didn't have a baby.

  My brain lit up with Adam and Eve Syndrome before the original sin. I explained some sexual techniques that I should carry out, etc. etc. As the girl was beautiful and very desirable I approached her to be more explicit. I was excited but I restrained myself. It won't be that if I put a hand on there would produce some Syndrome of those Maniacs and go outside screaming: "The doctor wanted to rape me!" or something similar. That's why I didn't touch her. 

  Currently, just to talk about sex even if you are a doctor with your female patient, they accuse you of sexual abuse or attempted rape. Although in those years it was usual practice sexual relations with more daring patients or between cuban medical and paramedical staff.

   In recent years, psychiatrists and psychoanalysts have had to modernize with the new pop generation of young people from music, television, film and other media. For example some already know:

   Jennifer Lopez Complex: here is a disorder of how girls feel in relation to the body. Everyone wants to have the butt of the singer and actress. There is a real mania to blow silicone or some other material on the buttocks and then go outside with tight jeans, or tight short closed to show off a succulent A... Is there already treatment for this?

  Rapper Complex: they are generally American negroes who have made millions with their raps and dress strikingly with overcoats of open mink skins, wide-brimmed hats and multiple Gold pierces on the ears and lips. Numerous jewels tangletheir neck. All young people, especially brownyoung men, wants to imitate them and since they don't have the millions of dollars, they fall into some type of depression that needs psychiatric attention.

WHITNEY SPEARS COMPLEX: adolescent who reached stardom with the image of a naughty schoolgirl - incitement to pedophiles - and golden hair. After, she had many millions she became rebellious, she rubbed hers hair, got pierced and neglected her two hand neglecting her two children, to the point that she lost custody of them. Then she fought to recover them. 

  Tell me psychiatrists do these mental dissorder has treatment other than pills and pills but psychotherapy, which is to talk closely with patients with a lot of patience and love, who try to imitate these figures? 

  We no longer have to resort to Greek mythology. Just observe the reality around. The times change. 

  Why our pulse accelerated, we were red and staring and an erection that broke our pants in our teens in front of a full-color and semi-nude photo of Marilyn Monroe. What was that syndrome that we all suffered and that made us feel guilty? We were just normal boys responding to a testosterone discharge as always, at all times, it has happened with humanity. 

   Now I hope you all don't call me Psychiatrophobic, you have some reason.

                Dr. Orlando Vicente Alvarez