It was two years ago, I was still sixteen, when my father
passed away. It was a cloudy and windy day. The night before, I
looked after him all through the night instead of my tired
mother, and I went to school from the hospital. As soon as I
arrived at high school, I heard my name called by the teacher in
charge, and he said, "Your father is in critical condition. . .
." I was very shocked when I saw my father. Of course I was very
shocked with his critical condition, but more shocking were his
looks. He was connected with many kinds of intravenous tubes and
many medical machines. The moment when the sight came into my
eyes, I thought he wasn't a man, only one miserable body. He was
kept alive by medical instruments. This incident made me think,
"What is genuine medicine?"
First, I think doctors must think about everything on the same
level as patients. There are many doctors who think their job is
only to cure disease. Therefore, their way of thinking gives some
kinds of pressure to patients. Can you understand? Thinking of my
father, he always seemed to be afraid of something and always
confused, because when my father asked the doctor about the
change of his disease, the doctor always gave him a vague answer.
The doctor understood everything about the disease but was
satisfied only within himself. He didn't know how large an effect
the attitude of the doctor has on patients and their families. Of
course I know that all doctors aren't like this, but it is
certain that there are some "heartless doctors." Doctors have to
consider their attitude toward patients to relieve them.
Certainly the skill of performing operations and giving surgical
treatment is necessary, but a more necessary and important skill
is to be able to understand the agony of patients and their
families.
Second, the sight of my father connected with many medical
machines and intravenous devices made me think about mercy
killing. I never hoped for my father's death, but it is not only
painful for patients, but also for the family. I think many
doctors who must save lives may disagree with mercy killing,
though it is necessary and it is their job to release patients
from pain when they feel the limit of their medical ability.
Actually my mother said to my father just when he passed away,
"You can be released from pain soon. . . ." It is a difficult
problem to decide whether mercy killing is right or not.
Therefore I hope medical skill can reach a higher level and that
it will be able to one day remove physical and mental pain.
Third, I would like to write about medicine for aged people.
This summer my grandmother passed away, after lying in bed for
many years. She couldn't understand what we said to her;
moreover, she couldn't talk by herself. That is to say, she was
in a second childhood. She was looked after by my aunt. When I
watched her taking care of my grandmother, it seemed very hard;
she had to give three meals, give medicine on time, make her take
a bath, change her clothes, cut her hair, and cope with fifth. I
think it is necessary to have patience and a warm heart in the
treatment of old people, to never get angry, even if old people
can't do what we had expected could be done easily.
Fourth, money is the most serious problem, I think.
Fortunately, my family is relatively rich, so we could put up
with the high cost. Especially in the case of cancer, it takes a
lot of money. I have heard of one American family who, because of
their child's medical costs, came to always have a quarrel, and
as a result, they got divorced. I think this case is very
particular, but actually the relation and atmosphere in my family
did become bad and dark. Whenever I did anything while my father
was dying (go to school, play with my friends), there was
something in my mind which couldn't be wiped out.
Furthermore, for poor people money is a more serious problem.
The government has to make a policy whereby people do not need
much money for medical treatment, especially poor people.
Finally, I want to tell you that there are many warm-hearted
people. When my father got a hepatic operation, there was
suddenly a lot of bleeding. At first a doctor called the Red
Cross to send some blood, but we could not get enough blood. The
doctor came to us and said, "Call your relatives and friends
whose blood type is A." Therefore we telephoned many relatives
and many of my classmates. One of my relatives has a connection
with a radio station staff. He called the radio station and the
fact was soon on the air. A few hours later, the lobby of the
hospital was crowded with many, many people. About 400 people
came to give their blood! Can you believe it? They didn't know my
father, and of course we didn't know them. I felt there were
still many warm- hearted people. I believe that my father is
gratified, satisfied, and smiling in heaven.
In conclusion, I think the most important thing in doctors,
patients, and family is "tenderness." It will take many years to
solve the mechanisms of incurable diseases such as AIDS and
leukemia, and to cure many patients of a disease perfectly.
Therefore, tenderness will be more and more important. Tenderness
can't cure a patient of a disease, but it can at least encourage
patients who are weak physically and mentally. The skill of
medicine will improve from year to year, but the basis of
medicine, "tenderness," will never change.
by Syuho Matsunoshita
