Edward’s Diary Entry 145: On ICU’s

Life is suffering. Do we find peace in death? While waiting to find out, we avoid pain and seek pleasure, and hope to stay ahead of the game.

A visit to any Intensive Care Unit (ICU) is an intense learning experience, or an occasion to test out what we already know theoretically. Those who have no choice, and are sent to an ICU for disease, sickness or accident, often seem to cry and whine, shout and complain, even when sedated. Those who choose an elective surgery but nevertheless wind up here due to complications are also saddened, and if there is pain, they also remonstrate, complain and cry. Pain deadens the brain and makes life quite unbearable.

But an ICU unit in America is the absolute height of modern science and technology. There is nothing missing, nothing unavailable – all the devices, all the contraptions, all the equipment imaginable. The sheer array of sockets, outlets, plugs, pipes, tubes, cords, supplies and paraphernalia is mind-boggling. And yet… the temporary inhabitants of this place see it as so… normal. They just take it for granted. It’s almost like a right they can demand, with or without money, Medicare, Obama or Trump-care…

In 2015, there were some 316 million overnight stays in US hospitals, equivalent to almost one for every US citizen, just to get an idea of the sheer volume of attendance at these cathedrals of medical science. The installations are optimum, the care is continuous and always available, the staff are well-trained and professional. Yet one hears complaints from the “worshippers”.

If an ICU patient in America could imagine the situation of the population in Africa (1.2 billion), Asia (4.4 billion), and South America (422 million), where there may not be even one doctor per 1000 people, they might feel a little better, or tone down their criticisms. But it’s so hard when the body fails, isn’t it? Who cares about others when our innards are in turmoil, our pain-scale is nearing “worst possible pain ever”, or we plunge into the depths of depression and feel like dying… And our lives are quickly losing the little meaning they once had.

This is like being clapped into jail. To avoid that, you don’t wash your hands in muddy waters. Once you’ve done something wrong, you’re jailbait. Similarly, if you play the medical game and enter the realms of modern-day medical science as practised in the US and other “developed” countries where living standards are high (as they say), you’re pharma-bait. Once you’re in, you have to go through the whole process: blood transfusions according to protocol, pain killers, heart medication, vitamin complexes, more drugs and supplements, the whole works. It’s a fight for survival, with the rules now laid down by the great universities of medical wisdom, down the command chain from physician to nurse’s aide, not by the body’s own intelligence – that’s been mistreated too much in the past and now the price must be paid. But the outcome is often good, in a way. We are alive. Living, yes, but dependent on drugs, supplements, vitamins, just about anything that is being pushed by industry. We will have artificial joints, pacemakers, various other bionic appurtenances, and live on pain-killers and tranquilizers, and we will think we can be happy… Until the final pain comes, and others can see it’s really the end. Often there is little human dignity in this, no real solace, no courage, and very little awareness left… The final black-out for a pale grey life lived in the depths of low-consciousness.

One has to think and wonder: will I also have to go through this when my time comes? Or is there a better way to live and die?