Sunday, September 5, 2010

Hippocrates Doesn't Know You Like I Do ...

Let’s say it’s Generic American Holiday evening, and I’ve just finished a savory slice of Aunt Mailsthepresents’ famous pie, drizzled with cream and warm as the love she knitted my latest sweater with. I sit back, content, and wipe a napkin at the stain on my jeans from the pie’s juicy berry insides. A few hours go by when my stomach decides it wants to sumo wrestle my lower intestine. I excuse myself and hope everything stays inside the wrestling circle. A few parts of an hour pass. I wipe the sweat from my brow and take a glance down. Those juicy insides will need more than a napkin.

Fast-forward a few hours and I wake up in a hospital bed. A guy in a white coat tells me I have a rare case of food poisoning. It’s terminal. Probably. He’s never seen anyone suffer total organ failure from expired rhubarb preserves, so he can’t be sure.

Dr. Badnews lets me hold his hand. I weep for all the terrible sweaters that will go without spineless, devoted nephews to wear them. I ask him if he believes in the afterlife. He shakes his head. Then he breaks all kinds of medical regulations by opening his coat, lifting his “Hawking Is My Homeboy” t-shirt and revealing a chest-hair-bearded Darwin tattoo.

Judging from a UK study of more than 3500 medical practitioners, published on the Journal of Medical Ethics website two weeks ago, I’d be within my rights to give the good doctor a pathetic nudge to the groin and loudly wheeze for a second opinion.
The article abstract states: “Independently of speciality, doctors who described themselves as non-religious were more likely than others to report having given continuous deep sedation until death, having taken decisions they expected or partly intended to end life, and to have discussed these decisions with patients judged to have the capacity to participate in discussions.”

Now, if UK people are anything like us, assisted bucket-kicking probably isn’t at the top of their bucket lists (despite their collectively superior sense of irony which any good test with beakers and scurrying lab students would overwhelmingly confirm). So if dying’s not on the itinerary, one should check the spiritual suppositions of the person administering care.

The difference between religious and non-religious respondents is a tad unexpected. Still, I can understand why a guy racked with nightmares of a student debt monster with thousands of hairy, sweating tentacles dragging his mortgage into an alley and beating it till it wets itself in the fetal position would have some bitterness issues. But come on, Doctor Who. Does rejection of the supernatural take away all reason to live? What about bagpipes? Marry Poppins? The chance to live in a castle haunted by the spirits of your warrior ancestors like every other decent UK inhabitant?

At least they bother to discuss things with their patients. If everybody’s favorite Irish philosopher and Bishop of Cloyne George Berkeley has taught us anything, it’s esse est percipi – to be is to be perceived. Those crushed, joyless UK physicians are being awfully considerate, and I perceive them to be gentlemen of the highest Kevorkian order.

Linkz!

http://scienceblogs.com/insolence/2010/02/report_a_bad_doctor_to_the_authorities_g.php

http://jme.bmj.com/content/early/2010/07/22/jme.2010.036194.abstract?sid=5d5ec2d3-855b-4f9f-a90e-ef4aaf3530fe

http://www.guardian.co.uk/society/2010/aug/26/doctors-religious-beliefs-terminally-ill

http://hubpages.com/hub/The-Great-Irish-Philosopher-George-Berkeley-and-His-Famous-Quotes

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