The Illusion of Control: When Medicine Fails
We’ve grown accustomed to success stories of people bouncing back from illnesses and injuries. With each triumph, our expectations rise, and we begin to believe that medical science will always find a way to conquer the next challenge. But what happens when the unthinkable occurs, and the incurable becomes a harsh reality?
Cancer, heart disease, and even a simple fall at an older age can be the catalyst for a devastating outcome. In these moments, a sense of failure settles in – for the patient, their loved ones, and the healthcare team. The frustration is palpable, and it’s not uncommon for patients to feel let down by the medical system.
A journalist’s poignant account of her battle with breast cancer comes to mind. Despite living with the disease for years, she was understandably frustrated as it progressed, exhausting all known therapies. In a posthumously published op-ed, she wrote, “The medical establishment tells me I have ‘failed’ a number of therapies. That’s not right: The establishment and its therapies have failed me.” This sentiment is increasingly common when problems aren’t fixed or diseases aren’t cured.
No area of medicine is immune to this sense of failure. Oncologists face incurable cancers, rheumatologists cannot cure lupus, and cardiologists still lose patients after heart attacks. Even dermatologists see patients succumb to melanoma. The feeling of impotence is overwhelming, leaving both patients and professionals searching for answers.
I recall a young couple’s distress after their third miscarriage. The husband’s question still resonates: “How can the medical profession do so little to prevent this?” All I could offer was a shared sense of helplessness.
Our society’s obsession with controlling our health has created an idol out of wellness. We need to rethink our approach, recognizing the limitations of our bodies and acknowledging wellness as a gift from God. Tragic experiences, though uncomfortable, remind us of our vulnerability and the limitations of medical science.
We often miss the darker side of our delusions: the corruption of science, the narrowing of reality to solvable problems, and the growing fear of uncertainty. We need a new narrative, one that can respond to the tragedy of cancer, the unfaithfulness of a spouse, or the birth of an imperfect child. We need a story that can embrace contingency, finding meaning in the uncertainty.
Ultimately, we must accept our dependence, frailty, and fragility. Only then can we find a way to make sense of the chaos and uncertainty that surrounds us.
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