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192 pages, Paperback
First published January 1, 1989
گمان نمی کنم بازگویی یک ماجرای دیگر از دید اول شخص درباره اینکه یک نفر چطور به وجود سرطان در بندش پی برده، بر آن گریسته، مبارزه کرده، تسلا دیده، رنج کشیده و قوت یافته به درد کسی بخورد. به همین دلیل تصمیم گرفتم کتابی خارج از فرم روایی صرف بنویسم و به ابهامها� پیرامون سرطان پایان دهم. کار نوشتن با سرعت زیادی صورت گرفت، زیرا نگران این مسئله بودم که هیچ مشخص نبود برای زندگی یا ادامه نوشتن چقدر دیگر زمان برایم باقی مانده است. هدفم مرهم نهادن بر رنجها� غیر ضروری بود
Of course, one cannot think without metaphors. But that does not mean there aren't some metaphors we might well abstain from or try to retire. As, of course, all thinking is interpretation. But that does not mean it isn't sometimes correct to be "against" interpretation.Somewhere and at some past in the history of the world, someone woke up to the news of the AIDS epidemic and was thrilled. It is no longer 1989, two years before my birth and therefor permanently irretrievable in the direct sense by my personal self, but there's still no sex education in the US. There are still mutterings of "the dark continent" during chapters pertaining to venereal disease. My generation went to elementary school to the tune of DARE and the War on Drugs, something for which I have finally puzzled out the reason for funding, if not reason itself. Health insurance has been bettered a bit, but the fears of "Gattaca" style stratification are still laughable while money is so acceptable a mulching of the sick and the unwell.
Abuse of the military metaphor may be inevitable in a capitalist society, a society that increasingly restricts the scope and credibility of appeals to ethical principle, when it is thought foolish not to subject one's actions to the calculus of self-interest and profitability.None of the pre-meds I interacted with during the course of my bout of university schooling are going to make very good doctors. Some have probably dropped from the grind since I last saw them (no room for fatigue when there's tuition to please), and those who are left are likely more than capable of expanding upon their MCAT back to front and then some, but where exactly will they pick up that deep and unyielding compassion for the human beings they treat? Where in the curriculum is the part about stigma, socioeconomic influences, the emphasis on the bottom line rather than the standard of living? Religion and empathy are the wave away reassurances for that, both of which as susceptible to influence as any ideological structure or biological formality.
Part of the self-definition of Europe and the neo-European countries is that it, the First World, is where major calamities are history-making, transformative, while in poor, African or Asian countries they are part of a cycle, and therefore something like an aspect of nature.I'm not as enamored with philosophy as I was in my youth. Perhaps it is a side effect of my previous era's supreme focus on specialization, but I am annoyed by a "stretched too thin" sense in Sontag's writing, similar to my disparagement of late 20th century philosophers who failed miserably at conjectures at, in their time, already mapped out neurological chemistry. There is also the matter that Sontag's exhortation of the reader to follow the best plan of treatment is absurdly optimistic, as complete and utter deprivation of metaphors from all senses of "ill" will not remove the barriers of economics, accessibility, and the poor training of doctors when it comes to combating bias. The problem with this, of course, is how often the displeasure crops up in classes on history, psychology, anthropology, you name it it glosses and passes and sidesteps; this, unlike those, does not come with midterms, so I set my scientific perturbations aside and took what I could get. As previously stated, experience with facts does not prepare oneself with engagement with how ideologies embrace the biological in the name of "survival of the fittest."
The people who have the real disease are also hardly helped by hearing their disease's name constantly being dropped as the epitome of evil.I have no experience with cancer, AIDS, or any other disease that sounds in public as a death knell. What I do have experience with are the socially sanctioned definitions of insanity, a field Sontag touched upon with great if infrequent emphasis. The reason I am comfortable with talking about my major depressive disorder online is this and this alone: none of you will ever be in a position to report me for purposes of putting me away. As popular as it is to decry technology, many forms of it allow me to avoid the conclusion of various calls to action birthed in those who surround me. What metaphors you hold me by, I will never know, and am all the better for it.
No one wants a plague, of course. But, yes, it would be a chance to begin again. And beginning again—that is very modern, very American, too.Back in my day, jokes about efficiently fatal retroviruses applied on the scale of Armageddon were common currency in the halls of Bioengineering. Who doesn't love a good post-apocalypse?