musingsonwomenshealth.com

Reflections on 40 years as a doctor in Women's Health

Can a flower be a weed in disguise?


Over the years, I have learned to depend on many things I have never seen; I have to do that, I suppose, because not everything needs to be noticed, wants to be publicly accountable. Unlike, say, red Lamborghinis or Brioni suits, some things are offended by the light and manage quite nicely behind the scenes. I do not seek much light any more either, I hasten to add; at least since my senescence, I have not been in the light for years… if even then…

Sometimes, though, I suppose there may be good a reason for hiding; sometimes there is a benefit only realizable if there is no scrutiny, no awareness of what really lives in the shadows that follow us everywhere. So I have to accept a lot on trust -or ignorance- and marvel at the mystery that hides under the world we see; at any rate, underneath the world from which we have chosen to avert our eyes. ‘There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio, than are dreamt of in your philosophy”, as Hamlet says to his friend Horatio after seeing the ghost of Hamlet’s father.

There are some other things that I suppose we choose not to see, of course: a man sleeping overnight in a doorway, or an impoverished woman in a supermarket trying to shy away from notice. And some things which would make me feel uncomfortable: like going to a restaurant in shabby clothes, or with unkempt hair; and I would certainly not want to be a the person who has the inability to shower, or has perpetually dirty nails and needs to apply for a job. But, let’s face it Circumstances sometimes dictate our appearance, and Fate our origin stories; and when it comes to things that some of us carry with, in, or on us, they too are just creatures in the Great Chain of Being. Some have accompanied mankind from its beginning -like, say, mites, fleas, and tapeworms- and they, as befits the job of parasites everywhere, seek to benefit from us with no cost to themselves.

Of course, although an ick factor often prevents us from wanting to think about some tiny things like parasites too closely; others, like bacteria and many other microorganisms, are not parasites; they are symbiotic; they are mutualists for want of a more specific term, and they have established a beneficial relationship with us, giving as well as taking: for example the microbiomes in our gut as well as eating what food comes their way, help digest our food, send signals to various organs to regulate our health, and may even play a role in our mental states. And anyway, not all parasites are bad; we have not thought carefully enough about how some of them might also offer us hidden benefits… 

The term ‘parasite’ is often used incorrectly to describe someone, or something, that is inherently bad for us -something selfish and best avoided if at all possible. According to some experts though, we have created some of our most insidious parasites. Of course, many of these creations seem to garner little if any benefit for themselves -it’s the designers, and, of course, us who presumably benefit. So have the designers released leeches into our world… or gifts? Are the designers really to blame; are those who profit from their invented ‘parasites’ as bad as the things they’ve unleashed? Or must the rest of us also share in the blame because we are complicit? A difficult question…

As you must have guessed by now, one class of the things I’m referring to is our ‘smart’ phones, the knowledge keepers which (I almost typed ‘who’) we consult about our everyday world, and carry with us as accessory organs; bodily extensions like the pens that help convey what we are thinking; or the navigators that help us to get to where that knowledge will be activated.

In my darker moments, however, I have to wonder if I am also contributing to this world-wide parasitic meme. Although I am elderly and didn’t grow up with a smartphone in my hand, my sins may seem comparatively microscopic (as are most parasites, I hasten to add), but I have to admit to the occasional walk-on role nonetheless.

I blush to admit that I recently succumbed to an ad on Facebook (I know, only the elderly still have an active account nowadays). I ordered a hat that I’ve always wanted from a company that was desperately soliciting orders, because -reading between the lines- they hinted that without a larger sales base, they might have to go out of business. Okay, I thought it was rather clever advertising because I liked the hat, and was given to believe that it was now being offered at 50% of its original price; it was just the type of approach that might make some of us who at least occasionally consult Facebook to react with the same naïve compassion we might with any stranger begging on the street.

Wary of a scam, of course, I researched the company, and realized to my relief that it was apparently a long-established Canadian firm in a distant province. In the back of my mind I kept hoping that yet another iconic Canadian business like the Hudson’s Bay Company wouldn’t also have to go out of business because of declining sales. I grew up with an HBC store in every city where my parents and I moved. I realized that I just couldn’t let bankruptcy happen to another Canadian business (although unlike HBC, I don’t think the Facebook one was an icon.)

At any rate, I ordered online and thankfully almost immediately received an online thank you and receipt for my help. I was proud of myself, although I have to admit that moments after my somewhat rash decision to buy something I didn’t really need, I had second thoughts.

I thought about it, and continued to think about it all morning, and by noon, I had made a decision: I wanted out of the deal. I re-Emailed the firm and told them I’d changed my mind. I felt so guilty about it, though, I did a very Canadian thing: I apologized, eh? I mean it was a Canadian company, after all; they’d expect it from a compatriot.

I got a very nice return Email, thanking me for my interest, and cancelling the order, but I still felt guilty. I wondered if I had inadvertently tried to parasitize a trusting firm by seeking their product without giving them something in return; offering to bail them out of financial trouble with my order, and then just as suddenly, after getting their hopes up, withdrawing any benefit to them before they got the reward that would help to keep them in business. They, after all, had offered something I wanted and then, like a spoiled child, I had changed my mind; changed my role.

And, making me feel even more villainous, they, as befits the country’s pride, did not show any anger at my breaching the contract. It’s hard to know how I should feel with considerate hosts like them -how they would feel about foregoing the services I’d promised, but didn’t provide for them. I felt like a thwarted, infection; a wannabe but ineffective endophage – certainly not the helpful vaccine as I’d initially intended. Silly thoughts, eh?

I don’t think I’d be a very good parasite, though; ad maiora natus sum, I guess: I gave up before I got any reward; before I did any damage. After a restless night of guilt-dreams though, I contacted them again the next morning and re-ordered the hat.

I think we both feel better now…

gozzter

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