Medical Psycho-Bio-Socio Ontology, its Epistemic Construction, & on the Phenomenological Nature of Remission
I BECAME INVOLVED WITH HOSPITALS SOMEWHAT early on in life (although I suppose that is undeniably true for most of us). And now, whilst studying part time, I have accrued a half decade or so as a medical assistant (MIA), working hospital diagnostic imaging.
One of the things that struck me most profoundly, from the start, was how the majority of people who saw these very things every single day, interacted with no more adeptness of finesse then would some virgin eyes, plucked from the street, who, upon seeing these sights for the very first time, were commanded to engage in whatever they thought to be the most appropriate dynamic interplay.
So rehearsed and polite for such genuine concepts. Very possibly the only ones in their category. A shared, dual reinforcing, common pretense. A “don’t mention the war” style mentality. A mere extension distortion of the common outer shell. But HERE?
Of course, it wasn’t all common. They didn’t faint at the sight of blood for example (mostly), or become repulsed at vomit or excrement (mostly). But philosophically speaking, their existential growth was, if not stunted, at least not as naturally advanced as I had hoped.
They were no more aware of this moment, they still took the base names, their own names, in vain, and they gave time unnecessarily to abstracts; abstracts that were incapable of appreciating the sacrifice.
They seemed intent on living out the same day, eating their own liver without so much as a solitary fava bean or half decent chianti; only to find the organ had grown again the very next day. But push on with their meal and tasks they would. Stone and eagle both, it was the choice that most perplexed me. Out there, sure. I’d seen it, come to expect it. But even here? Where HE lived. That wasn’t possible.
A dual punishment for dual opportunity squandered perhaps.
I had come to study what was called “death”, here at the “death petting zoo”. Where the spectre looked you in the eye, perversely, as it whispered uniquely menacing things in each visitor’s ear.
Making promises of threats and threats of promises; and no one knowing which, or if all, of what, or none, would come to pass.
But with each active form still cognisant enough to repeat every trembling word to the many chronicling boatmen who fortune fed immune. In shifts, unbroken, they circle and scribe, observe and devise, remove and apply; and all based around a comfort cage on wheels.
Collectors of secrets. Scribes from the edge, of which I would be now be one. Allowed to learn, to share, to access and up-keep a grand library. Duty bound to perform group rites of stay; but never to interfere in the final exchange, nor hear the last word spoken.
But it would be only the last beyond earshot; nothing else would be forbidden. Indeed, with everythingness at stake, the rest would not be contained. It dared not! It could not. An impossibility of nature.
And when all of the books, between us, found themselves full, cover from cover; we, the initiated, could predict that final word. With or without the permission of Death, predict it.
Perhaps not completely. Perhaps not easily. But by letter.
Letter by letter, if need be. Use it to empower ourselves, to bend the rules of the universe. To find strength from frailty. Remove fear or pain; or restore them. Cause them.
To stay indefinitely, or at least know the “when”.
And potentially, just maybe, by the very act of knowing, I mean, there was at least a chance: could we inadvertently unmake the very natural order?
When remission, or remission’s omission, or vice versa, became the state of affairs for any single form, what would become of the whole?
Perhaps, just perhaps, these notions were a tad romantic for hospital life. In hindsight.
Ed5. First Published J.J.R (2013).Medical Psycho-Bio-Socio Ontology, its Epistemic Construction, & on the Phenomenological Nature of Remission (1). In Source (Winter Issue).