Care and Awareness
posted by Frank Pasquale
I’ve been offline for a lot longer than I’d expected. Given her battles with three types of cancer, my mother’s health has not been good for the past decade. 12 days ago she took a turn for the worse after getting pneumonia. She’s been in the hospital for some time, and has weeks of rehab to go. So I’ve been spending just about as much time with her as I can (except the past couple days, when I’ve been quarantined out on account of my own stomach flu!) My father died 2 years ago, and the rest of the family lives far away, so I’m the only visitor.
About a decade ago one of my colleagues (Margaret Gilhooley) wrote a piece called “Broken Back” in the Villanova Law Review, describing (in part) her response to the various insurance hassles that affected her access to care. I still assign excerpts of this piece to my students, because there’s a great deal that a first-person experience of the health care system can convey (over and above the statistics and economics that are the bread and butter of health policy analysis).
I don’t have many law-related thoughts on the experience just yet–though I’m sure some may come as we find out whether Medicare will be paying for the rehab. I’ve been frustrated by missing out on some things I love these past weeks–teaching, conferences (have fun at LCH, Dan!), writing, blogging. But there are some interesting philosophical voices that point out the human importance of this experience–either being dependent, or caring for another in their dependence. Feminist thinkers like Joan Tronto have long advanced an ethic of care, and Alasdair MacIntyre’s Dependent Rational Animals develops parallel ideas in a virtue-oriented tradition.
It may seem odd to invoke philosophy at a time like this, but an essay by Colleen Carroll Campbell provides some concrete examples of what Tronto and MacIntyre describe. Commenting on first-person accounts of dementia, Campbell notes that “They combine a penetrating self-awareness with an image of the ways that dementia erodes that awareness. And they reveal the ways in which the loss of some forms of consciousness may awaken new ones—new ways of being in and beholding the world.”
I’ve seen that process in gravely ill people I’ve known–a wisdom and perspective that can only come from a direct confrontation with the possibility of death. “Visiting the sick” is a corporal act of mercy in the Catholic faith; the visited not only give the visitor a chance to offer true compassion and assistance, but also provide a perspective on life that (with luck) we won’t know for quite some time. As George Steiner paraphrases Heidegger, authenticity derives from a “being towards death,” an awareness of finitude and mortality and a coming to terms with our true (and, ideally, best) selves. I saw this type of wisdom-of-care in the way my mother prayed devoutly, and kindly regarded all her caregivers, during the course of many difficult and trying treatments. I hope I can maintain something of this awareness as I continue caring for her, and reenter the maelstrom of professional life.
March 23, 2007 at 8:58 pm
Posted in: Culture
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Responses (3)
Patrick S. O'Donnell - March 23, 2007 at 11:17 pm
Frank,
I know it sounds trite, but I well understand what your’re going through and think this is indeed an appropriate occasion for philosophical reflection. When our mother was diagnosed with cancer and informed she had less than a year to live, we moved her up to Santa Barbara to be closer to three of her four sons and to better take care of her (near the end she had hospice care as well). Not long after her diagnosis, my father died of a heart attack (he was in poor health, but the swiftness of his death took us by surprise). So I (we) lost each of my parents in a short period, a ‘one, two’ knockout punch. And being the oldest of five children, I noticed how swiftly and attentively my brothers and sister looked to me for signs of appropriate attitude, response and behavior, which made me a bit uncomfortable, as I’m not sure they appreciated how this was not something I had been well prepared for either! But of course we realize in our heart of hearts what it is we need to do and we do it. It is unfortunate that for many of us it is only in such circumstances that we take time out to look at the proverbial ‘big picture,’ to appreciate moments of prolonged silence and prayer. It is unfortunate that it takes a literal confrontation with the prospect or reality of death: ours or that of an intimate relative or friend, for us to come to terms with our true and best selves, to see the value incarnate in acts of genuine compassion and love, to gain proper perspective and a glimmer of wisdom. The virtues that surface during such times need to find anchor in the busyness of our everyday lives which are routinely buffeted by the forces of extrinsic values expressing, if only by default and in collaboration with our ‘forgetfullness’ (as self-deception, a state of denial, or wishful thinking), nothing but contempt for anthing within the orbit of Arnoldian sweetness and light or ethical and spiritual virtues. While the entire post was moving, I was thus particularly struck by your desire to ‘maintain something of this awareness as I continue caring for her, and reenter the maelstrom of professional life.’
Orin Kerr - March 23, 2007 at 11:33 pm
Frank,
I’m very sorry to hear of your mother’s illness. I’m sure I speak on behalf of all of CoOp’s readers in hoping and praying for a full and speedy recovery. And good for you for being there for her; I’m sure you see it as obvious that you would be, but then that’s the point.
Orin
Laura Appleman - March 24, 2007 at 12:37 am
Frank,
Our thoughts are with you.
Laura
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