The best job I ever had was ward clerk on a Stroke and Neurological Rehab Ward. Prior to that I had been employed as an in-house temp at the same hospital. I would always take any work that was offered. Even if I didn't know what the job entailed, or how to do it, I always said 'yes'. If you said 'no' to anything, you would get bumped to the bottom of the list. The coordinators would wait for you to call them and ask for something, anything. They knew that you would. You needed the hours.
I worked all over the hospital. I built up an arcane knowledge of door codes, the names of secretaries, the cubbyhole locations of obscure departments whose existence was barely known. I knew how to prepare a blood sample for a cryoglobulin test. When a junior doctor sheepishly announced they had sustained a needle stick injury, I knew what to do. I brought all of that knowledge with me when I put down roots on the ward.
The position of Ward Clerk is not a good job. It paid something close to minimum wage. Even the long-serving clerks earned next to nothing. There were no real prospects for advancement. The work was overwhelming and never ending. At any one time, it felt like I was pushing multiple boulders up a hill. As the sole non-medical member of the staff on the ward, and the first point of contact for the families of patients, it was common for me to be berated by members of the public over issues that I had no knowledge of, or any direct control over.
Why work in such a role? I've had better paid jobs that were easier and less stressful, many to the point of being tedious. The draw of ward clerk was the discrepancy between the job description and the job as it was in reality. I was left to carry out my duties as I saw fit. I spent all day solving the problems of the ward. I made a point of never attending a single meeting. Doing so even once would have set an extremely bad precedent. The invitations that landed in my inbox went unanswered. I assumed anything integral to the operation of the hospital would be communicated to me. When a member of the public was shouting at me, I would stand there thinking, I am going to dismantle your anger. Ten minutes from now you will thank me. When the notes for a transfer patient arrived on the ward loose and in no particular order, I told the manager of the ward where they had originated to never send patient notes to us in this condition again. In a more comfortable and better paid job, I might have been more diplomatic.
I worked out around this time that I need conflict in my life – not the self-destructive, self-generated kind and certainly not anything ideological. It has to be necessary and lend itself towards some practical function. Pleasure is ultimately a void. I am capable of succumbing to languidity, but in the long-term it makes me irritable.
Many years ago I was walking with a friend along the fringes of the South Downs. My friend was on his way to becoming a professor of sociology. He is a very clever man; naturally intelligent and subsequently well-educated. As we skirted the town where he had grown up, we encountered one of his old school friends. This man had taken a more conventional path through life, finding work in one of the local factories. He was married and seemed happy with his lot.
After we had parted, my friend pondered at length on whether he would be more happy as (in his words) “a pig in shit”.
“You'd go mad and you know it,” I told him.
A lot of water has flowed under the bridge since then. My friend is on the cusp of early retirement, somewhere in Asia, having made enough from teaching in the middle-east to make such a thing viable. He is ready to step away from the battle and relax. I am meeting him in a few hours from now, in London, and I will ask him about it.
Acceptance - laying down my arms - is something I am not good at, probably because I don't want it. While I doubt that I am in any immediate danger of keeling over, health-wise, I am on a road with no exits besides the blinding white glare at the end. A couple of days ago, I received, in the mail, a blood test form that resembled a shopping list. Having worked in pathology, I know at a glance what many of these tests are for. I admire the grace of Roy Batty and I have seen it embodied by many when they were left with no choice other than to face their own human frailty. A better model for me would would be Harold Shand at the end of The Long Good Friday, baring his teeth at the world for the last time. It is important to me that, in my own small way, I go down fighting. Valhalla needs clerks.
As for diary to of a punter, you have more than enough intellect to see your way through this. You have grown since I started following you, Wiser as you say. I believe each day is a blessing, It's so exciting and. a privilege to be alive, even if you can't walk , climb or wash your bottom, your MIND is intact, and that indeed is the blessing.
“Did you know that the first Matrix was designed to be a perfect human world? Where none suffered, where everyone would be happy. It was a disaster. No one would accept the program. Entire crops were lost. Some believed we lacked the programming language to describe your perfect world. But I believe that, as a species, human beings define their reality through suffering and misery. The perfect world was a dream that your primitive cerebrum kept trying to wake up from. Which is why the Matrix was redesigned to this: the peak of your civilization." - Agent Smith
This is one of the most positive things you’ve written though.
Have you seen the TV show Devs? That also ponders a virtual life. I found it quite beautiful. And then there’s the holodeck on the Starship Enterprise. Surely that would mainly be used for sex…?
I think some version of this Matrix-style escapism is going on everyday with addictive tech-use, gaming, parallel Internet Universes and so on. If we imagine it as not an all-or-nothing choice but rather, gradations of reality, I think many people are escaping into fantasy worlds at the moment to escape the existential dread of imagining near future scenarios. The real world is scary and boggling but at least it's real.
I came here to say similar. People are addicts to drugs and alcohol to escape the horror of real life as it is. People are glued to doomscrolling, to binge TV and Gym life because in some way it makes them feel better. The world is scary and anxiety inducing. Yet I think humans know deep down that the struggles we face are part of what makes us human and would not step into the Matrix willingly.
Buddha encourages us to look at the suffering of human existence, acknowledge it and transform it through the power of our own mind, realising impermanence and the lack of inherent existence. I like the fact we are encouraged to create our own world through chosing the way we think and feel, chosing compassion over anger and so forth. Maybe creating our own world by becoming a Buddha and attaining Nirvana.
Paul, acceptance is really something, something very very difficult. I think if you are in that way of thinking it is a great state to be in and a courageous one. I read
Your words and acknowledge the courage behind your almost off the cuff remarks about UTIs and how life threatening these are. Paul, you are so brave in so
Many ways, in your every day life, in facing your challenges and in writing the truth about your life and feelings so eruditely. Well done, Paul.
I have started to write a comment quite a few times already this morning but keep censoring myself or asking myself is this appropriate to say such and such. Anyways what the post did bring up for me, amongst many many other thought paths, was the idea of unplugging from the machine such as we can do here in Canada with the right to die under medical assistance in dying, . I am a staunch supporter of medical assistance in dying and dying with dignity but your post made me wonder if indeed I would/ could decide to u literally or metaphorically unplug from the machine or hope for just one more day.
It is a conundrum I wrestle with every day. When I'm really struggling, I wish I lived in Canada. When I'm doing better, I'm glad I don't... because of what I think I would do on my bad days.
I have heard that having the MAID option in hand actually helps fortify some people in their struggle knowing that they have an exit if it all becomes too much. So that’s another angle.
Long time reader, first time commenter. Thanks for sharing this, as a climber and former philosophy student I've been following your journey with a kind of ghastly vicarious fascination. The grim reality you face everyday is something that any one of us could be facing and it is informative in terms of decision making and risk. Many of your posts have been hard to read due to their striking honesty (authenticity?) but this one came from a hard-earned perspective of wisdom and seems universally relevant. Thanks for sharing your thoughts and wishing you continued strength and endurance.
Agreed living in constant pleasure is not dying. I have also found that once you feel very medically compromised (like in ICU), you can seem to accept dying quite easily (once over a certain age perhaps) but then once you start living more actively again you start to mind if you die!
Know it? I’m practically plagiarising it! (I haven’t read it in probably at least a decade, though. Given how much it still shapes my thinking, I think that’s a testament to what an amazing piece of writing it is)
Oh yes, the matrix is absolutely stuffed full of spiritual/ religious allegory.
One of the great ironies of my accident? I actually think I was starting to move in the direction you describe prior to it. even more ironically, I was using climbing as a way of trying to dial down my ego and access what I increasingly was being persuaded was insight attached to traditions like Zen Buddhism. Unfortunately, waking up paralysed in a life destroyed is pretty much the least helpful situation to try and let go of the ego. The animal part of you screaming for survival is just too strong. But maybe one day, I'll be able to start trying to get down that path again.
The best job I ever had was ward clerk on a Stroke and Neurological Rehab Ward. Prior to that I had been employed as an in-house temp at the same hospital. I would always take any work that was offered. Even if I didn't know what the job entailed, or how to do it, I always said 'yes'. If you said 'no' to anything, you would get bumped to the bottom of the list. The coordinators would wait for you to call them and ask for something, anything. They knew that you would. You needed the hours.
I worked all over the hospital. I built up an arcane knowledge of door codes, the names of secretaries, the cubbyhole locations of obscure departments whose existence was barely known. I knew how to prepare a blood sample for a cryoglobulin test. When a junior doctor sheepishly announced they had sustained a needle stick injury, I knew what to do. I brought all of that knowledge with me when I put down roots on the ward.
The position of Ward Clerk is not a good job. It paid something close to minimum wage. Even the long-serving clerks earned next to nothing. There were no real prospects for advancement. The work was overwhelming and never ending. At any one time, it felt like I was pushing multiple boulders up a hill. As the sole non-medical member of the staff on the ward, and the first point of contact for the families of patients, it was common for me to be berated by members of the public over issues that I had no knowledge of, or any direct control over.
Why work in such a role? I've had better paid jobs that were easier and less stressful, many to the point of being tedious. The draw of ward clerk was the discrepancy between the job description and the job as it was in reality. I was left to carry out my duties as I saw fit. I spent all day solving the problems of the ward. I made a point of never attending a single meeting. Doing so even once would have set an extremely bad precedent. The invitations that landed in my inbox went unanswered. I assumed anything integral to the operation of the hospital would be communicated to me. When a member of the public was shouting at me, I would stand there thinking, I am going to dismantle your anger. Ten minutes from now you will thank me. When the notes for a transfer patient arrived on the ward loose and in no particular order, I told the manager of the ward where they had originated to never send patient notes to us in this condition again. In a more comfortable and better paid job, I might have been more diplomatic.
I worked out around this time that I need conflict in my life – not the self-destructive, self-generated kind and certainly not anything ideological. It has to be necessary and lend itself towards some practical function. Pleasure is ultimately a void. I am capable of succumbing to languidity, but in the long-term it makes me irritable.
Many years ago I was walking with a friend along the fringes of the South Downs. My friend was on his way to becoming a professor of sociology. He is a very clever man; naturally intelligent and subsequently well-educated. As we skirted the town where he had grown up, we encountered one of his old school friends. This man had taken a more conventional path through life, finding work in one of the local factories. He was married and seemed happy with his lot.
After we had parted, my friend pondered at length on whether he would be more happy as (in his words) “a pig in shit”.
“You'd go mad and you know it,” I told him.
A lot of water has flowed under the bridge since then. My friend is on the cusp of early retirement, somewhere in Asia, having made enough from teaching in the middle-east to make such a thing viable. He is ready to step away from the battle and relax. I am meeting him in a few hours from now, in London, and I will ask him about it.
Acceptance - laying down my arms - is something I am not good at, probably because I don't want it. While I doubt that I am in any immediate danger of keeling over, health-wise, I am on a road with no exits besides the blinding white glare at the end. A couple of days ago, I received, in the mail, a blood test form that resembled a shopping list. Having worked in pathology, I know at a glance what many of these tests are for. I admire the grace of Roy Batty and I have seen it embodied by many when they were left with no choice other than to face their own human frailty. A better model for me would would be Harold Shand at the end of The Long Good Friday, baring his teeth at the world for the last time. It is important to me that, in my own small way, I go down fighting. Valhalla needs clerks.
Valhalla? Are you Tamil? i like your response.
As for diary to of a punter, you have more than enough intellect to see your way through this. You have grown since I started following you, Wiser as you say. I believe each day is a blessing, It's so exciting and. a privilege to be alive, even if you can't walk , climb or wash your bottom, your MIND is intact, and that indeed is the blessing.
“Did you know that the first Matrix was designed to be a perfect human world? Where none suffered, where everyone would be happy. It was a disaster. No one would accept the program. Entire crops were lost. Some believed we lacked the programming language to describe your perfect world. But I believe that, as a species, human beings define their reality through suffering and misery. The perfect world was a dream that your primitive cerebrum kept trying to wake up from. Which is why the Matrix was redesigned to this: the peak of your civilization." - Agent Smith
This is one of the most positive things you’ve written though.
Have you seen the TV show Devs? That also ponders a virtual life. I found it quite beautiful. And then there’s the holodeck on the Starship Enterprise. Surely that would mainly be used for sex…?
Yes, it seems to me that Agent Smith gets something right. A friend recommended Devs to me the other week, I'll aim to start it tonight.
What do you think of Devs?
deus in machina! (I really liked it a lot)
Devs is really very good.
I think some version of this Matrix-style escapism is going on everyday with addictive tech-use, gaming, parallel Internet Universes and so on. If we imagine it as not an all-or-nothing choice but rather, gradations of reality, I think many people are escaping into fantasy worlds at the moment to escape the existential dread of imagining near future scenarios. The real world is scary and boggling but at least it's real.
I came here to say similar. People are addicts to drugs and alcohol to escape the horror of real life as it is. People are glued to doomscrolling, to binge TV and Gym life because in some way it makes them feel better. The world is scary and anxiety inducing. Yet I think humans know deep down that the struggles we face are part of what makes us human and would not step into the Matrix willingly.
Buddha encourages us to look at the suffering of human existence, acknowledge it and transform it through the power of our own mind, realising impermanence and the lack of inherent existence. I like the fact we are encouraged to create our own world through chosing the way we think and feel, chosing compassion over anger and so forth. Maybe creating our own world by becoming a Buddha and attaining Nirvana.
Paul, acceptance is really something, something very very difficult. I think if you are in that way of thinking it is a great state to be in and a courageous one. I read
Your words and acknowledge the courage behind your almost off the cuff remarks about UTIs and how life threatening these are. Paul, you are so brave in so
Many ways, in your every day life, in facing your challenges and in writing the truth about your life and feelings so eruditely. Well done, Paul.
I have started to write a comment quite a few times already this morning but keep censoring myself or asking myself is this appropriate to say such and such. Anyways what the post did bring up for me, amongst many many other thought paths, was the idea of unplugging from the machine such as we can do here in Canada with the right to die under medical assistance in dying, . I am a staunch supporter of medical assistance in dying and dying with dignity but your post made me wonder if indeed I would/ could decide to u literally or metaphorically unplug from the machine or hope for just one more day.
It is a conundrum I wrestle with every day. When I'm really struggling, I wish I lived in Canada. When I'm doing better, I'm glad I don't... because of what I think I would do on my bad days.
I have heard that having the MAID option in hand actually helps fortify some people in their struggle knowing that they have an exit if it all becomes too much. So that’s another angle.
Long time reader, first time commenter. Thanks for sharing this, as a climber and former philosophy student I've been following your journey with a kind of ghastly vicarious fascination. The grim reality you face everyday is something that any one of us could be facing and it is informative in terms of decision making and risk. Many of your posts have been hard to read due to their striking honesty (authenticity?) but this one came from a hard-earned perspective of wisdom and seems universally relevant. Thanks for sharing your thoughts and wishing you continued strength and endurance.
“The overwhelming response from students asked this question is ‘No!’”
What would happen to a student who said ‘yes’?
Exactly the same as the others: they now need to explain their reasons why, and defend them.
Agreed living in constant pleasure is not dying. I have also found that once you feel very medically compromised (like in ICU), you can seem to accept dying quite easily (once over a certain age perhaps) but then once you start living more actively again you start to mind if you die!
You probably know this: https://www.brmovie.com/Analysis/Picturing_the_Human.htm
Know it? I’m practically plagiarising it! (I haven’t read it in probably at least a decade, though. Given how much it still shapes my thinking, I think that’s a testament to what an amazing piece of writing it is)
Yes the long original version is really brilliant. Andrew Norris also did another Cavellian take on it: https://philpapers.org/rec/NORHCI -- and a youtube lecture: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uUrm3rXW1FU
Oh yes, the matrix is absolutely stuffed full of spiritual/ religious allegory.
One of the great ironies of my accident? I actually think I was starting to move in the direction you describe prior to it. even more ironically, I was using climbing as a way of trying to dial down my ego and access what I increasingly was being persuaded was insight attached to traditions like Zen Buddhism. Unfortunately, waking up paralysed in a life destroyed is pretty much the least helpful situation to try and let go of the ego. The animal part of you screaming for survival is just too strong. But maybe one day, I'll be able to start trying to get down that path again.