The Question

In retrospect, I did something slightly dumb in the senior year of college. I had left my Writing Intensive class requirement until my last semester. Now, this is irresponsible for many reasons. First, I was in complete writing and editing mode for my Honors Thesis, so I was balancing a 70-page independent research paper with five other essays for my Writing Intensive. Second, Writing Intensive classes are usually viewed as one of the more difficult and time-consuming requirements at WashU. Third, because I waited so long, I had around five or six class choices, but only two of them worked for my schedule. This is how I found myself taking a class titled “Literature and Medicine”. 

I quickly learned on the first day of class that I was the only English major in the room, and I was surrounded by (mainly) STEM majors who were preparing to take the MCAT and go to medical school. I instantly felt out of place and questioned my role in the class as someone who only entered a hospital when it was time for her yearly appointments. However, I never shy away from a challenge! I am happy that I continued with the class because Literature and Medicine became one of my favorite classes from my undergraduate degree. \

For our final presentation in Literature and Medicine, we had to answer the following question: what is the role of the physician to a patient, to patients generally, and/or society? As an English major, I felt like this question was a little outside of my purview, so I went a little off script in my answer. Today, I want to give you my answer in hopes that it gives you a different point of view on healthcare and physicians. My answer reads a little literary; however, if this class has taught me anything, literature and medicine really do have an intertwined relationship. 

P.S. It is a bit of a twist of fate that I ended up feeling so out of place in this class since I thought that I would be pre-med! If you want to read more about why I ended up switching to English, you can read one of my past blog posts!

My Answer

Upon reflecting on what this class has taught me about what it means to be a doctor, I think that it would be remiss of me to not state that I am an English major who is officially attending graduate school for English in September. While this lens could cloud my ability to define what a “good” or a “bad” physician looks like in practice, I think that it actually allows me to look beyond the narrow definition of a physician. In each of our readings for class, I have always paid more attention to the characters who are not doctors by training or by practice, but still act as healers. Within Tolstoy’s The Death of Ivan Illych, Camos’ The Plague, and Saramago’s Blindness , there are characters who do not hold the title of physician but still provide services that I believe are at the heart of the role. It is a physician’s job to maintain their patient’s dignity and humanity, but that does not mean that this task should not be shared among a wide range of people. Through these characters, I believe that we are all called to be physicians because it is each of our duties to uphold one other’s dignity and humanity in times of illness, which can easily rob us of these qualities.

What is the role of a healer when medicine reaches its breaking point? As the daughter who continuously supports her father with an autoimmune disease and as the niece who watched her uncle waste away in the ICU over Spring Break, this question has been weighing very heavily on my heart. I wonder if this question was on Gerasim’s mind when he watched his master lying on what would become his deathbed during the second half of The Death of Ivan Illych. When all the professional doctors in the short story managed Ivan Illych like every other patient or a textbook case looking to be solved (and not treated), Gerasim saw Ivan Illych as an individual deserving of kindness. While Gerasim could not offer Ivan Illych a cure for his ailment or a long-term solution for his pain, he could offer him something much more important: empathy. Gerasim’s treatment was personal and compassionate. Ivan Illych stated that, “He saw that no one felt for him, because no one even wished to grasp his position. Only Gerasim recognized it and pitied him” (Tolstoy 138). The doctors did not want to understand their patient’s pain. Ivan Illych’s family even turned a blind eye to the suffering happening just a few doors down from theirs. Gerasim is also the one who “simply felt sorry for his emaciated and enfeebled master” (Tolstoy 138). By offering Ivan Illych empathy, Gerasim preserved his master’s dignity, allowing him to die as a more moral man. When the doctors failed to save Ivan Illych’s body, Gerasim’s empathy encouraged Ivan Illych to see the error of his ways. While he is not a physician in the traditional sense, Gerasim fulfills the moral responsibilities and ethical duties of a physician by providing empathy to Ivan Illych.

Should we allow our own wishes and desires to completely overshadow the suffering and death of other people? Rambert’s answer to this question drastically changes over the course of The Plague. In the beginning, Rambert was plagued with self-centeredness. When the plague first hits Oran, Rambert insists that he must leave the city to reunite with his wife in Paris. Even if this could spread the plague and cause unnecessary death, Rambert is unwavering in his request until Tarrou explains to him that Doctor Rieux’s wife is also outside the city. This becomes a critical juncture for Rambert where he must reconcile his personal selfishness and Rieux’s determination to heal. When asked why he decided to stay in the city to fight against the plague, Rambert honestly answers, “But now that I’ve seen what I’ve seen, I know that I’m a part of this place” (Camus 222). Rambert no longer centers his own feelings and humanity. Instead, he begins to look outside of himself and diligently engages the community when they need him the most. He centers the humanity of the townspeople in his plague fighting efforts by bearing witness to the horrors of the plague. Rambert goes beyond just fighting for the dignity of Oran’s citizens, because he allows himself to be changed by the suffering he has witnessed. Rieux comments that Rambert “has changed, the plague had put a distraction in him that, with all his might, he had tried to deny, and that nonetheless continued in him” (Camus 315). Rambert’s change upholds the dignity of the dead. The dead are not forgotten by Rambert, which sustains their worth. If Tarrou is to be believed that the plague is a time of growing, Rambert embodies that principle because he grows into the role of the physician when he becomes a witness for the people of Oran during a time of plague.

When the world has become blind to the innate humanity within all of us, how can we possibly fight against it? Blindness presents a world where it would be difficult, if not impossible, to create a new world order that not only upholds each individual’s dignity, but also provides basic necessities for survival. Saramago asks questions about what duty we all have to our fellow humans during times of plague. If we are to take the answer of the doctor’s wife, all we can really do is fight to the best of our ability for the people we love. This sense of responsibility follows the doctor’s wife around throughout the entire novel. She admits that, “Today is my responsibility… I shall do whatever I can to help” (Saramago 252). Even though the other characters naturally turn to the doctor for their dignity, as a blind man, he is unable to provide that for them. Instead, it is the doctor’s wife who steps up. She lives these words out by gathering food, guiding each character by the hand like a child, and protecting the women from humiliation and brutality at the hands of beastly men, even if that means she murders someone to accomplish this goal. The doctor’s wife is willing to do the unspeakable because “dignity has no price, that when someone starts making small concessions, in the end, life loses all meaning” (Saramago 169). The doctor’s wife is unwilling to compromise on the humanity of her husband and the other people quarantined in their ward. She resists the dehumanization surrounding them, even if that means hurting other people or leaving them to starve. The doctor’s wife is by no means a perfectly moral character, but she rises to the occasion and fights to maintain the humanity of the ones she cares about. This is much more than any other character in the novel can offer the reader. It is impossible for us to do everything for every single person. However, the doctor’s wife encourages us to do everything we can for those we love.

While not all of us can heal a person’s body, we all can uphold one another’s dignity and humanity when faced with serious illness. I will never be able to tie the perfect surgical suture, prescribe someone life-changing medication, or make split-second decisions that determine a patient’s survival. However, that does not mean I do not have an obligation to the health and wellness of my fellow humans. Like Gerasim, I can offer earnest empathy to people suffering from terminal illness and advocate on their behalf. Like Rambert, I can step up and bear witness to illness. Like the doctor’s wife, I can fight for the ones I love to receive treatment and care that defends their humanity when illness tries to rip it away from them. Through all of this, I can be a healer in my own right by executing the duties a physician has to individual patients in both my personal and professional life. It is up to each of us to answer the call to be a physician in a philosophical manner no matter what you study in college or do for an occupation. I firmly believe that an English major could become a physician, and thankfully, I do not need to go to medical school to accomplish that goal.

P.S. I write a lot about being an English major on my blog! Some of my favorite posts are A Bibliophile’s Guide to London as well as A Look Into the Literary Canon: My Favorite Major Required Books! Check them out if you are interested!