The patient that nearly drove me out of medicine

Can’t say I am big fan of literature that you find on certain forums such as reddit, but every now and then I find something that really catches my attention. This is definitely the case with The patient that nearly drove me out of medicine.

The first thing that struck me about the story is that it makes very good use of meta – especially when dealing with the writer and main character. As you go along it becomes more obvious and it covers other areas as well – it is very rare that you find such techniques in amateur authors but, alas, you can find it here.

The language is rather simple although it uses a decent vocabulary and tries not to repeat itself – the story is gripping and you can find yourself drawn by the plot – even if at some point it is rather predictable.

The story itself is a bit disappointing, mostly at the end – such a nice constructed plot deserved a better ending – one that might have begged the author to know more, an open ending perhaps.

All in all the story is gripping and enjoyable – some parts are rather outlandish and it hurts the overall feel of the story, but overall it is just a fun short read.

Book: Without Sanctuary

In certain aspects the human mind works in a rather simplistic way: we forget the wrong we did and we remember the wrong others have done to us. It’s evolutionary in a way, one starves depression and the other keeps us on our toes regarding the danger we might be in.

We also tend to forget pages of our history simply because we are ashamed of them. We’d rather not have the world, and new generations especially, be aware  of the mistake we have made in the past. We want to save face, even in the darkest of times and rather hide than face our errors and learn from them.

However, there are times when we have caused abominable deeds against fellow man, and while we can blame the region or the age we must also make a point of the fact that it was those exact regions and times that have started a movement in eradicating the horrendous acts altogether. We must open our eyes and see the damage people like us have caused and that we need to make adjustments, that we need to learn of our past and make sure the future never has to face the same tragedy again.

For many of us the end of slavery was the emancipation of African-Americans, but that is not the case as this book shows in dramatic footage what life was in the years after the thirteenth amendment was passed. Lynchings of innocent men and women without any trial – brute force taking lives in the night and killing them in grotesque fashion. People lined up by the thousands, paying small fees so they can discharge their guns into the corpses of the condemned. Journalists and photographers recording the scenes only to justify the act or make a profit out of the images taken at the scene. Law enforcement and politicians that do not object and let the mob’s animalistic behaviour take course in fear of losing jobs and seats.

This book is a part of history – one that we might want to forget or others might want us to not know about. A part of history that is very rarely taught at the full length that it requires. No review will do it justice as it offers an experience that is so traumatic and personal it will linger on with you for a very long time.

Book: War against war

Not an easy book to read, but although uncomfortable it is one necessary read and experience for someone who has never seen a war. While most anti-war books will speak mostly about the valiance of the winners and the atrocities of the losing side, this book spares no one. The message is clear and simple: war is hell and we must do everything in our power to never allow this to happen.

I first heard about the book while reading  Regarding the pain of others – Susan Sontag writes about the major impact this book had at the time and the fact that although it is quite brutal it seemed to have little impact during the time of its publication. Moreover, even the vivid description of what war causes  did nothing to change the views of its readership regarding war – the most brutal war of our existence, World war II, was just a few years away.

Having pictures of dead soldiers alongside captions of war propaganda, praising the valiance of soldiers, send chills down your body. The mutilations and horrid deaths do cause soul wrenching feelings for its readers and cause viewing war in another light. Even during the foreword the voice of the author send an outstanding message: men should not seek the glory of war and women and mothers should teach their children that war does not cause anything but pain and suffering. The page that instructs mothers not to buy their children toy soldiers for they cause a false feeling of justice and protection.

Today there is a museum that praises the pioneering of the author and truly sees the genius of the artwork he created – at the time of its publication the author was send to a mental asylum as his views were considered anti patriotic – yet one more example of how we see reason too late.

Book: Regarding the pain of others

Pain has always been a lonely experience – something that cannot be shared with anyone. No one really understands what you are going through. Sure, we have come up with a range of words and some medical tests that can give an indication of how that pain is felt and how severe – maybe come to some reasonable conclusions based on these depictions – but the true feeling of pain is left only to ourselves.
This is not a new topic – people have long discovered that other people cannot relate to their pain and have tried a large number of methods in demonstrating their anguish. Most artistic forms come from pain – it’s easy to understand that some of the worlds most famous paintings and sculptures describe someone in great torment. However, only the very great have made it possible that their afflictions cross centuries and, with them, generations.
Susan Sontag goes in depth about how we perceive pain through art – looking at war photos and other forms of illustrations regarding people in suffering. A remarkable essay on how the mind in agony tries the same methods of exposing itself. From sketches of Francisco Goya to the photos of Ernst Friedrich the only thing that is different is the technology, the device that records – a fancy camera versus the almighty pen.
Allusions to a series of books, photos, movies and other media are given, mostly all with the basic subject of how far we have come in describing our pain and how little we absorb from the pain of people around us. Also, to be fair to accuracy, she also exposes a series of artistic views that are only that – artistic. A great range of photos have been scripted and do not show that ever alluding shot of true feeling – however, this does not impact our reception of the pain the medium shows us, it only makes us feel closer and receptive.

Between confusion and misinformation

People took to the streets in the last few days in Romania to protest against an executive order that decriminalizes small time corruption – thus making an important number of dignitaries from the ruling party escape trial and a jail sentence. A law passed by corrupt politicians to help corrupt politicians escape the hand of the law. And they say there is no honor among thieves.

Quite unexpectedly, a portion of the Romanian people decided to start a small and peaceful protest against the idea of the bill before it was passed but, after the law was passed anyway, took to higher than ever numbers as the days kept mounting and the bill was not repealed. As it happens when more than half a million people start chanting and spend their evenings in public squares there started to appear a number of channels of communication from both sides that ranged from confusion to misinformation.

Confusion

People in the streets are leaderless and, to a certain degree, unsure of things work at a government level. Which things happen overnight and which things need a bit more time to develop. But this is not the biggest case of confusion – that comes when asking people of what they actually want. They want the law repealed, that is obvious, but apart from that there doesn’t seem to be a lot of consensus. Some want the government to resign, which makes sense in a way since they passed a bill that is specifically designed to keep corrupt dignitaries free. On the other hand, some want the government to stay in place and go through the promises they made in the campaign – somehow planning their fall as they have overpromised and would never deliver what they committed to. There is also a side that only wants the leader of the party to resign as he seems to be the driver of the law since he will be one of the people that benefit from the new law. On the extreme side you have the people that want to abolish the entire party – thinking that this type of premeditated plan is damaging to the country itself and they have lost all legitimacy of legal existence.

Confusion is a normal state during protests – they happen spontaneously and need a bit of time to get their bearings. People are overzealous and have the tendency of throwing their frustrations all around. What is the best solution? There probably isn’t an all-encompassing one to begin with, as with everything the middle ground is usually the best approach.

As the protests lose their steam after the law has been repealed we are left with most of the confusion. Maybe a spark will come from some place – people are already sending lists around trying to get the most of this unique situation. If some of their points will happen it will be a success, but there is always the fear that everything will die down and that would be a loss – the situation would become as it was before the protests thus making the entire scope of the challenge just a somewhat futile experiment of the ancient agora. Busy lives and the hardships of everyday duties make for lousy voters. The continuous effort of informing yourself and public discourse is what will keep the flame alive, not to mention it will dissipate most of the confusion. How it will play out is a mystery, but one that will reveal itself soon enough.

Misinformation

From a political viewpoint all countries are monstrosities when it comes to governing them – if we are to add a mottled population like the one of Romania things get pretty heavy. Balancing a vast audience of pensioners that are living hand to mouth to the uneducated and rural middle-aged people that society seems to have left behind to the overly educated and technological savvy millennials that make their bread in multinational enterprises is a task of leviathan proportions. On top of all this you have a regulated and deeply rooted culture of corruption – balancing political cycles with thieving sprees in order to maintain power and be kept out of jail. Even when just scratching the surface you get a problem that has so many ramifications it is nearly impossible trying to untangle yourself.

The best course of action from this type of political establishment is, and always will be, misinformation. Going from the other political parties to known business men that might or might not have any role in the uprising to blaming the multinational companies themselves for promoting such protests. It works to some degree as it puts multiple sides of the Romanian society against one another. Grandparents vs Parents vs Children. The only thing that comes out of this is a bit of time to try and correct the balance, but with every passing year it gets harder and harder. People are informing themselves, and while some are plugged in to the political bought media outlets that promote a certain doctrine or another the numbers are getting smaller and smaller as informed youngsters have acknowledged where the biggest threat is and have started informing their seniors on where the issues are and how they need their help in overcoming them.

The road to fighting corruption and having a clean and powerful political establishment is long and arduous, but glimpses of it appear every now and then. When the system is shaken it doesn’t stand and what is beyond it appears in the frame. The only weapons that are needed are patience and information – trying to discern one fact from another and arming ourselves with strength and civic valor – not budging based on our misconceptions, but acknowledging the array of multiple lines of thought and action.

The only thing that matters is that the flame that is alight not consume itself gratuitously and real power derives from it – only then will we be on the true path of redemption and be able to stand tall and proud of the choices we have made. It seems like it will never happen, but that is only the misinformation that engulfs us and while we are adamant in seeing disruptive change right away, a side effect of the confusion that comes with enlightenment, we most hold the fort and await the ever churning wheel of time.

Fire

Fire. So simple and elegant. So fragile and yet so strong. It has molded our lives in such a way that you cannot imagine our civilization without it.
From art to religion and science, it has engulfed our thoughts and shaped our minds.
A moment in the muzzle of a gun, a cry in the consummation of a pyre, the amazement that a Bunsen burner brings, the vivid imagination fire creates while it helps propel a spaceship to new horizons by devouring its fuel, the light it creates is the constant that has reshaped our knowledge and its speed is our biggest discovery yet, the feeling of peace while a big ball of fire crosses the sky day after day.
For me fire always represented the inferno, the place of anguish where our thoughts run like rivers, condemned to flow into eternity.

“Of four infernal rivers that disgorge into the burning lake their baleful streams;
abhorred Styx the flood of deadly hate,
sad Acheron of sorrow, black and deep;
Cocytus, nam’d of lamentation loud heard on the rueful stream;
fierce Phlegethon whose waves of torrent fire inflame with rage.
Far off from these a slow and silent stream,
lethe the River of Oblivion rolls her wat’ry Labyrinth whereof who drinks,
for with his former state and being forgets,
forgets both joy and grief, pleasure and pain.”
(John Milton – Paradise Lost)

Mourning is a time where we reflect on the lives that were lost and the ones we have yet to pursue. As a remembrance we light a candle, for nothing lasts more in our memory than a flickering light, making sure it will never let us forget.

Different

It comes and goes. Finally! For some it would be a small hell, for me it’s an improvement. Able to focus again, to give time and thought to things that are important. Less frustration, less anger, less fear. There still is pain, there still is uncertainty; but it is fading. Slowly. Going through things one step at a time, not rushing anything – my version of purgatory. It comes fast, it goes slow – always trying to remember that. It will take time.

Going after things in the checklist, trying to regain some control of what’s going on around me. More involved at work, more attentive to friends, more action on things that have been left unattended, but not forgotten. Things are progressing, but not at the speed I would like them to – but I cannot think about that now, I have to give time and space, less control and more acceptance. I keep on wondering if it will stick, who will I be once this is over?

Not everything is improving, not everything shows signs of healing. She still hasn’t come back, she is still in her world – but, again, I must not react; I must wait and try to let things come by themselves. It’s not easy, not when you know how great life once was – how there was hope; and love! She took that away; she says she didn’t mean it – but I am not so sure. There is a rift, a gap I cannot close, and I just can’t seem to let it shut off itself. Fear takes over once more. The itch, the twitch, and everything comes rushing again. It’s not the same, but it’s only a distinction without a difference – a different course of the same meal. I cannot let go, I cannot let things remain the same, I cannot get more involved. Stuck. Keep telling myself: leave it be! You will figure it out at a certain point, but not know. Now you must wait and face it, everyday. Let it consume itself and wait to see what is left. Regroup after the battle, not know.

I was not made for this, probably the reason I have it. People that are ready for it don’t it. It was bad and then it was worse, now it’s bad again. Going on better. Still so much to fix, still so much to go through. I will wait. Not that I have much choice. Curious to see where this will take me.

 

Out of the blue

It was scary. But they all are. It came out of nowhere, which was somewhat new. It usually tells me it’s coming. Not now. It just came. It was short, at least. Just in the beginning. I stopped it too fast and it didn’t have a chance to consume itself. No problem, it came back later. It took it’s time the second time. But I was in good hands. She did a good job, she let me have it in front of her for the exact time it was needed. Kept the session open for half an hour more after, just to make sure. The recovery was easier too, it lasted a lot less. Is that good news? Would have been better if it didn’t come again at all, but at least I handled it a bit better this time. Maybe that is progress.
I start worrying. Why is it still here? Why will it not go away? I know it will be a while, but every time it comes I feel like I am back at the beginning. But that’s not true. I handle them better. I got used to it and I know how to react. It’s still far from being fixed, but at least I know what it is. I know it by name and feeling and that helps.

Again

My jaw pops. Pressure installs. I have been here before, yet it feels new. How quickly the mind forgets the bad, like it never was. But here it is again.

The body reacts, much in the same way. But a little different, like it still remembers the steps. It has gained some minor coping mechanisms. I take a breath, I smile. It will be bad, but less than what it was. Little comfort to help me through. I’m not ready, but I am in a different league. I have guns now – knowledge of what it is and how to fight it, both of them.

I’m preparing myself, it doesn’t work very well. Still, it’s all I got. Will it be over soon? Will it be gone forever after this? Probably not, but I still have hope.

Together they pack quite a punch, but the blow has less of an impact. I feel tougher, but not stronger. This is what experience feels like – am I wiser? It still hurts, it still causes pain – is it less strong or have I gotten more stable?

Evening

I descend the three flights of stairs, I open the door and tell bye to the smokers outside while I exit the office. The trip is short, so I walk as fast as possible to warm up. Before I arrive I light a cigarette, it’s usually half finished when I get there so I catch my breath by the entrance until it’s done.

Locker room. Get in equipment. First, massage. It feels good, but I’d like it harder. The masseur always chatting about things, almost always trying to get a feeling of how much money I make. The service is expensive and he (or she) is probably underpaid, hence the curiosity. I engage in the small chitchat, but I’m really not that into it.

After the massage comes the exercise part. The first couple of times I hated it, but now I like it. I feel better and it’s worth it. I learned what I have to do fast so now they stare at their phones, minding me very rarely. I like it like that, so I try to go the full course as best I can.

Back in the locker room. New T-shirt and some deodorant. I light another cigarette as I leave. Feeling good, but tired. What course should I take? A taxi or the bus? This time the bus. I wait 4 minutes and it arrives. I get in and take my seat. My mind goes places, constructing ideas and speeches I will probably never give. The music is annoying me, I have been playing the same 20 songs for months. I should probably change them.

I get home. She is on the couch, watching a show. I undress and take a shower. We engage in some sort of discussion for a couple of minutes and then it’s over. We have things to say to each other, but we don’t. After years and years of being happy it’s time for misery. We acknowledge it and move on. Maybe we will be happy again, maybe we will never know happiness together – one way or the other, we were the most important people to one another and now we are not. Not replaced, just effaced. Life took a deep turn and we did’t have a chance to get back on track yet. Will we be able to?

I make a small gesture, just a hint of trying to correct the balance. I get dismissed and I feel like I went two steps back rather than one ahead. I give up and go to the other room. I take my kindle and I read for a little bit. When it’s time she comes by my side and falls asleep. No more words tonight. I wait until she alls asleep. She has nightmares at first, but then the exhaustion makes her sleep peacefully. I get up and go to the kitchen. I make some lavender tea and I have a cigarette while it’s infusing. With the mug in my hand I go back to the bedroom. I watch her while I drink my tea. I’m sleepy now, so I lay on my side and try to go to sleep. I feels like I’m crashing, it feels like I’m having the same nightmares as her, only I’m aware of them. Maybe she is too, but dismisses them. I am bad at dismissal, still trying to learn the basics and not jump in overthinking again. I fall asleep with a single thought in my mind: tomorrow is another day and I can try again, maybe I will get better at it. I have to.

Dacian