As we only had one class this week, I apologize if my post emanates a bit from the same theme as Ryan's.
Undoubtedly, we all have different lenses through which we view the world and in turn communicate with one another. We live in a society that, as Ryan stated, is predominately tolerant of our varying outlooks. While this dissension creates barriers in our language and ability to fully understand, it is important that we continue to strive to reach one another.
I am taking Foundations in Communications this quarter and the parallels between this class and the communications class are abundant to say the least. In communications we are studying Levinas who prescribes to a philosophy claiming that humans have a need to cry out and be answered. All humans question, "Where art thou?" and are looking for the response, "Here I am" by another individual.
With this is mind and without permeating any personal boundaries, I think it would be good to hear what you have to say after the response of "Here I am." How has this class changed the way you think about illness? Or has it? Which readings do you connect with the most? Can you identify with some of the emotions we've discussed? If you have volunteered at Project Angel Heart, has it altered your view of human morality, of disease patients, of human fellowship? Especially if you have volunteered more than once, is your lens beginning to change? Can it change without suffering from disease itself? What are you thinking? What would you like to just come out and say? We've talked pretty openly in class but I think it's important to get everybody's take on the subject and this blog provides a great forum to do so. Let's try to share our lenses as best as possible.
16 comments:
Kirsten, your post dovetails nicely with Ryan's. Whereas he has prompted to think on an abstract or bigger-picture level, you're asking to bring these back to a very individual level, both intellectually and emotionally, which is extremely important for our well-being as students, scholars, teachers, and just plain old human beings.
The questions that you posed from Levinas are quite profound, and continuig to situate ourselves more precisely as our course unfolds is a useful act. As a teacher, I have found my questions for you all answered in such powerful ways that I have begun to shift my own perceptions and understanding of material that I've been thinking about for a long time.
So far you've all surprised me in ways I don't think I expected. I fully anticipated intense engagement and determination from you all, so the surprise has not been in those qualities that have manifested in our first weeks. But the integrity with which you approach discussions of illness, sexuality, and privilege has made these discussion much richer and easier than I imagined. Ten years ago, I don't think students would have been prepared for or in the right place to read poetry, prose, and fiction from folks like Mark Doty and Audre Lorde. I think issues that I grew up with as controversial have shifted somewhat. Maybe Ryan's correct that the majority of folks tolerates most everyone else now, but I think that our culture has transformed in powerful ways that make it possible to discover new ways of knowing out of perspectives long denigrated in our nation's history.
This, for me, will require intense reflection on my assumptions about what's appropriate or productive to teach in a first-year writing course. Now it may be that you're all a unique bunch (and you are, don't get me wrong), but I have a sense that your peers are also full of such capabilities. As a professor, these realizations have been inspiring.
AIDS for me has always seemed so far away. Don't get me wrong, I knew it existed here in the US and even in Colorado, but my "focus" on the issue was always far away in Africa. It seems to me that our society tends to push the problem to Africa almost as a way to keep it from being so visible here. There seems to be a constant discussion about the AIDS epidemic in Africa, the problems that it is causing, the orphans that it is leaving, the families that it is destroying.... But here, when we are experiencing the same issues, the same problems, the same consequences, the same discussion does not exist. It baffles my mind that we can be so concerned about those in a different country and yet spend so little time caring for those right outside our door.
My work thus far with Project Angel Heart has helped me to better grasp the reality that there are many people even just in Denver who are suffering from life-threatening illnesses like AIDS and they need our help too. I realize that not everyone that PAH serves has AIDS, but they are still in a similar situation and their struggle deserves to be recognized.
Our discussions and service is helping to bring my lens into a closer focus of my immediate surroundings and although I'm sure that it is still distorted to some extent, I also believe that it is beginning to encompass a larger more realistic view than it had a few weeks ago.
Similar to what Laurel said, AIDS was always an issue I felt distanced with. Although I haven’t learned more about the specifics of the disease from this class, I feel that I have gained an understanding on a different level. I am the kind of person who tends to see things in black and white, as statistics and in a utilitarian sense. Because of this, I cast morals and individual perspectives into shadow. By studying AIDS in the manner we have, I feel like I have finally adjusted my lens (to continue the metaphor) to see illness in a more individual light. My focus has not been on the numbers or the effects of the epidemic on millions but rather what an illness does to one person at a time. I can’t say, at this point, if this new viewpoint is a change I admire or even one I will continue; however, I do realize that gaining a new perspective is always helpful to better understanding myself and how I fit in the world.
I have only volunteered once with Project Angel Heart so far and that experience has solidified the thoughts I just mentioned. Volunteering in this manner enforces the sense that I am engaging in a more individual and personal connection with the idea of illness than I would if I simply read up on it.
Throughout the past four weeks of class, my “lens” has changed quite considerably. In fact, the reason ties in nicely to our discussion on Wednesday about how people in different fields tend to adopt different perspectives and world views. As a science major, I had virtually always considered illness in medical and clinical terms: What is the diagnosis? What are the symptoms? How can the illness be treated most effectively?
Audre Lorde’s text The Cancer Journals, however, opened my eyes to the alternate, humanistic view of illness. Her writings are so raw and passionate—while I was reading the excerpt, I could sense the deepest anguish and heart-wrenching isolation that she attempted to convey. I would say that these authors—Lorde, Doty, Mars-Jones…--have influenced my “lens” and view of illness because they have shown me the faces of illness, if you will. Though the biology is important, I have realized that the stories of those individuals affected are far more meaningful.
This afternoon, I participated in the food delivery shift at Project Angel Heart, and my experience there today directly affirms my new perspective of illness. The clients I met today were so cheerful and outgoing. In fact, one woman was even standing at her front door as we pulled into the driveway, waiting for us; her desire for “human fellowship,” as Kirsten termed it, was evident. But this fellowship is far from a one-way street. To have been such a welcome visitor was the most rewarding part of the afternoon.
From the readings and dialogues we have had both in class and on the discussion board, and the work that I have done with Project Angel Heart, my lens has changed considerably in the way that I view people with AIDS. Prior to taking this class, I had the notion that a diagnosis of AIDS was a death sentence. I had the tendency to view people with AIDS as one step away from the grave. As morbid and politically incorrect as this may seem, it is the truth. I only heard stories of people who had died from, or were not far from dying of this disease. I had never read any literature or heard any stories of people who were actually living with the disease.
The term that PAH uses to lessen the severity of the title for their clients is “people living with AIDS.” It is the use of this term that enlightened me to the reality of the disease. The reality is that millions of people live with AIDS every day, and I shouldn’t sign them off immediately as just another mortality statistic.
The idea of moving illness away from detrimental metaphor is obviously an important one to consider, I don’t deny that this is a sensitive issue for many people. We have discussed this topic in depth for many weeks now and I just don’t know how much more I have to say about it. We have shared our opinions, decided why the stigmas persist, tried to understand the reasons behind the fallacies and the hardships behind the truths, tried to view illness through the eyes of the sick and death through the eyes of those who loved them, we have discussed ways in which we could perceive a change, there have been dialogues about our own experiences with illness, as well as how we feel the service project is coming along, and frankly, I’m just spent. Perhaps I am the only one who feels this way, and for that, I apologize for coming off as a jerk. When we were talking about lenses in class, however, it did make me wonder what experiences in each of our lives define how we see things. I know that probably two or three different events in my own life are what dictate my views, actions, and opinions. Is this the same for everyone? Can we all look at ourselves and say, “Well, I said this because I believe in that, and I believe in that because I experienced the other”? I am so interested to know what events in everyone’s lives helped to define their personality and ideals. What happened to us to make us, us?
Not only has this class altered the “lens” through which I view illness, it has also surprised me with new awareness of how I viewed illness prior to my involvement in this class. I have not yet been on the delivery shift at Project Angel Heart, and so have not yet been able to connect with people with a life-threatening illness in that way, but the work we’ve done so far in class and in PAH’s kitchen has made me realize that I have always tried to distance myself from illness, both mentally and actually. Our reading and discussion in class, reinforced by the monotonous reality of packing vegetables into Styrofoam containers (containers that someone will open, microwave, and eat from while reading a magazine, watching television, sitting alone in silence or talking to someone) has pushed me far out of my comfort zone.
I think illness has always been embarrassing to me because it violates the “norm” of good health – the ideal. As I realize just how many people are affected by illness, in so many different ways, I’m beginning to think that health is not the “norm” by any means, and that emotionally and physically harmful illness is not something that happens to “other people” “someplace else.” It’s amazing how much that small change in thinking has done to remove the embarrassment and make me feel comfortable shortening the distance I once placed between myself and the idea of illness.
Walking on eggshells. Tiptoeing through the subject. Always finding ways to avoid putting the word out there.
Before I had considered these illness related words "taboo". However, they were avoided in my head for a reason other than one might suspect.
It wasn't because I had the "out of sight, out of mind" mentality. If I didn't put the word out into the universe, it quite possibly might not exist. No; I used to not say it because I was afraid of what it might do to them, not me.
What if I said the name of their illness in front of them, and they hadn't thought about it? What if I pulled them out of their peace, by uttering the word-that-need-not-be-spoken. I didn't want to be the person who carelessly walked through a room of soundly sleeping people with a stack of glass plates. I used to think that by saying their disease or illness, it would be like I dropped those plates and shattered their peaceful sleep.
However, now I feel no "taboo" towards it. My lens has slowly warped. I now realized that I had mistakenly made a direct connection between the condition of an ailing person's body and their soul.
I have now found that instead of trying to comfort the weakness that I see on a person, I should encourage the strength within. For me, this has been a great switch, of which I am very proud.
It is like seeing the glass half full, instead of half empty. So, as everyone reads this, I wonder if they question why I still have not typed the name of the illnesses.
I could announce clearly and crisply the name of every life-threatening disease known to man.
I could shout it out at the top of my lungs, but does that physical act change anything more than if I kept my silence?
This is the question that clings to my new lens.
As always, reading memoirs and stories of personal encounters with disease has had an impact on me. The writings we have examined illustrate how devastating diseases like HIV/AIDS and cancer can be to the person afflicted and the people who love him or her. This has shaped my lens concerning illness in giving me more secondhand knowledge of other people’s firsthand encounters. As Travis mentioned, the experiences in this class have helped to make illness more individual, through both volunteering and the personal stories. This type of approach has genuinely helped to narrow the focus of my lens to those individuals who are suffering, rather than the entire context of the diseases, as I had viewed them in the past.
Interestingly enough, I feel that I have gained the most perspective on disease from the texts which I enjoyed the least. Upon introspection, I know why I did not enjoy these texts: they made me uncomfortable. Not in the sense that I could not handle the subject matter, but the frank and almost preachy quality to the diction of Illness as Metaphor and The Cancer Journals left me with a bitter aftertaste. Why be so self righteous about a disease? Why be so defensive?
I did not immediately recognize these pieces as cathartic outlets, but upon further review it became obvious. These authors (at least those that are not Sontag) are not indignant at the world for misunderstanding their disease. They are indignant at the disease, and the mode in which they approach its discussion is a reflection of these emotions. These methods are simply human means of coming to terms with a devastating circumstance -- not a consequence -- and it is important that we take each one as an individual creation, not another representation of a huge generalization with which healthy people can not even begin to emphathize.
I have yet to complete a delivery shift at Project Angel Heart, and I feel that this will allow me to achieve an even deeper and more involved perspective on disease and its effects on the individual, not just physiologically, but emotionally as well.
Two aspects of this class have actually impacted me greatly. The first is how illness should be regarded. I can contribute this to the essay's by Susan Santog. Santog's position against the military metaphor and how she poised the patient were extremely intriguing. It was such an enlightenment because of how she empathized with the patients and yet at the same time said "Don't you feel sorry for them, they are no different than you." This fine line is something that had never before crossed my mind and is something that could be taken into many other arenas. Secondly, while volunteering for Project Angel Heart, I found it very interesting how they limit their volunteers. For example, the contract does not allow you to help them in any way, talk to them for an extended period of time, or even take them to the emergency room if necessary. I realize that these regulations are for the safety of the volunteer, but the question that came to my mind was. If the people receiving the service have the potential to harm in of the volunteers, why aren't they under a federal program or assisted living? I really felt obliged to have a conversation with some of the people that we delivered to, as it said in the video that we watched in class on Jan. 28, sometimes the only visitors that people see are the ones delivering their food. I feel that volunteers safety should come first, but these regulations were a bit over-stretching in my opinion.
A few weeks into the class I realized something fairly important, I never saw cancer as a metaphor. Friends' moms have had cancer, my grandfather died of it, I've been intimately connected with the disease and never thought of it as anything but another sickness. I doubt that many of the other students my age have ever felt the stigma either. I almost feel cynical towards the cancer section of this class because it just missed the bus with my age group. As far as the AIDS metaphors though, I have clearly felt those through my life. Now however, I do not think that they are nearly as prevalent in among the people I know. I am not sure if this is just because of an increasingly liberal and anti-religious entourage or an actual change in the way that American perceive the disease. It is very apparent that we do not care enough about the epidemic in Africa, but stateside the conditions have notably improved, at least in my eyes, in the last decade. Whatever the case, I sometimes have trouble taking some of Sontag's bleeding heart claims for fact.
Here's Sarai Glass's comment:
This class has brought many new perspectives on illness. I had never that language can be a demeaning weapon on those with illness when illness is used as metaphors for such corrupt things as war. If I had that illness I would for certain not appreciate being compared to a war or a plague. It’s hard for me to identify with these emotions. As I’ve shared, I am so fortunate in that my friends, family, and self have been blessed with good health. It is hard for me to understand what that is even like, and when I hear a metaphor like “cancer” being used, I can only imagine a short range of emotions that would or even could entail. I think my lens can change. As bad as communication can be, there is a chance of at least decent communication, and I believe my lens could even be further changed with experiences. As far as my lens of human fellowship goes, working at Project Angel Heart has made me realize that at the heart of life, humans have a good nature. Why else would people
give of themselves as they do for other humans, that they know nothing about other than the fact that they have a life-threatening illness, upon volunteering? I think that there are of course the do-gooders that are serving just to get a better reputation for themselves, but I didn’t experience that at all at Project Angel Heart. I felt a true sense of people wanting to genuinely help other people.
For me, I have seen plenty of death and illness. I once attended the funeral of my father's lieutenant, who was shot by a deranged man bent on killing himself and whoever was close. My dad could very easily have switched places with his lieutenant. Further, my dad is constantly running into burning building and risking his neck. This fear of death I fully understand. In fact, losing him like that would probably be the most devastating thing in my life.
I have also attended funerals were the victim was stricken by some illness. My great grandmother, for instance, died of a combination of cancer and Alzheimer's. I was fairly close with her. But when she died, and when I saw her suffering it was hard to really understand what happened. She had always been weak since I had known her, and as terrible as this may sound, I simply could not cry then or understand what the big deal is.
I suppose this comes from my distance from it. I have never been really sick, and therefore I have no personal bridges to the subject, just second-hand ones that others have already created. I am able to connect with more visible, physical injuries, though–I all ways have some sort of sprain or gash or burn of some sort, and I know better what that feels like. With my dad, though, I think I would feel his death all the more pungently because I have an inkling of what it would feel like to die from that.
Hopefully I never have to go through that, but I feel I could use a lot more empathy for those suffering from a disease. But from I believe, I won't be able to truly identify with it by merely reading accounts of terminal illness. Instead I need to first feel it to build a stronger bridge into that realm. Until then, I suppose, I get to remain blissfully ignorant in that regard.
i will probably, once again, come off as a bit of an insensitive jerk with this comment. and i promise, once again, that this is not how i am or what i am attempting to portray - i'm just being honest.
this class has exposed me to some very interesting commentaries about disease, many of which really have forced me to reevaluate and truly consider some of the beliefs/reactions i have to say, AIDS. but overall, i haven't felt a lasting impact. my "lens" hasn't really been altered, hasn't really become "re-prescribed" if you will. and i feel the same about the work that i've done at Project Angel Heart - i really enjoy working to help people who need it the most, and i'm glad that i am making, if even the tiniest bit, a difference in the world. but to me, it just feels like such an obligation. i don't wake up in the morning excited to go prepare hundreds of trays of food. and maybe that just makes me incredibly selfish. maybe not. but i just hate feeling obligated to do something that in any other situation i would really love to be doing.
after that rant, i wanted to talk about the Levinas philosophy that Kirsten brought up. i find it fascinating, but i'm not sure if i agree with it. it seems too simple, too easy to really be applicable to all human beings. if we were all to ask "where art thou?" and we all received the response "here i am," how would this in any way solve any problems? wouldn't this simply bring up new questions such as "what now?" and "well, why are you here?" my personal take is that as many times as one asks the question "where art thou?" the only real response that that individual is looking for is completely internal. hearing "here i am" from another individual may be soothing and may qualm the basic human fear of being alone for a short period of time, but it can do nothing more. it cannot complete one or bring a sense of deep personal happiness or peace - this is something that only the individual can accomplish, and it is something that must be accomplished completely on one's own.
can you feel the existentialism dripping from my comments?
I apologize if this post seems a bit brief, but I'm afraid I haven't much to say on this subject. I have never gotten much out of Philosophy--I have often said that it can be defined as the stubborn belief that we know nothing, and we aren't going to let anything that we know tell us otherwise. My outlook on life has always been very simple: I believe that there is right, and there is wrong, and humans generally instinctively know the difference, so there isn't much use trying to define it. Forgive me, therefore, if I skip past the Levinas bit, but there is a reason that I dropped that class.
As for my own personal lenses, I can't say they have changed so much as they have expanded. The readings always seemed a bit redundant to me as I have always been of the opinion that social stigma are detrimental to society. I can say, however, that this class as a whole has allowed for a bit of self-reflection; I have, I realized been a tad hypocritical about such things. I have preached against social stigma for years, but--I realized--I have to a certain extent been guilty of it myself. I'm not sure I can truthfully claim that I have been changed by the class, but I can say I have been humbled--you don't need to be on the soapbox all the time, as I now realize.
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