Journal of Medical Humanities最新文献

Research on the unrepresentability of death in Samuel Beckett's oeuvre abound in Beckett scholarship, but little attention has been given to the artist's representation of caregiving to the dying in his plays. With reference to Martin Heidegger's concept of care and Albert Camus's idea of the absurd, this article analyzes Endgame (1957) and Footfalls (1976) by attending to Beckett's dramatic representation of caregiving as undergirded by a sense of its absurdity. The almost 20-year gap between the writing of both plays highlights the development of an understanding that this sense of absurdity is never about the caregiver's questioning of one's obligation to the dependent but about how one chooses to respond to caregiving as an absurd predicament. The pertinence of such a representation of caregiving by Beckett lies in its poignant articulation of a complex experience that is often left unexpressed by caregivers who prioritize their dependent loved ones over themselves.

Bertolt Brecht's poem "A Worker's Speech to a Doctor" is frequently cited as a means to raise awareness among health workers of the health effects of living and working conditions. Less cited is his Call to Arms trilogy of poems, which calls for class-based action to transform the capitalist economic system that sickens and kills so many. In this article, we show how "A Worker's Speech to a Doctor," with its plea for empathy for the ill, contrasts with the more activist and often militant tone of the Call to Arms trilogy: "Call to a Sick Communist," "The Sick Communist's Answer to the Comrades," and "Call to the Doctors and Nurses." We also show that, while "A Worker's Speech to a Doctor" has been applied in the training of health workers, its accusatorial tone towards health workers' complicity in the system the poem is critiquing risks alienating such workers. In contrast, the Call to Arms trilogy seeks common ground, inviting these same workers into the broader political and social fight against injustice. While we contend that the description of the sick worker as a "Communist" risks estranging these health workers, our analysis of the Call to Arms poems nevertheless indicates that their use can contribute to moving health workers' educational discourse beyond a laudable but fleeting elicitation of empathy for the ill towards a structural critique and deeper systemic understanding in order to prompt action by health workers to reform or even replace the capitalist economic system that sickens and kills so many.

Ever since the global spread of the COVID-19 pandemic in 2020, East Asians across the globe have been ostracized, othered, pathologized, and subjected to numerous anti-Asian hate crimes. Despite contemporary China's rapid modernization, the country is still perceived as an Oriental and primitive site. Taking these cues, the current article aims to investigate the Sinophobic attitudes in the wake of COVID-19 through a detailed analysis of sequential comics and cartoons by artists of East Asian descent, such as Laura Gao and Lisa Wool-Rim Sjöblom. Drawing theoretical insights from Alexandre White's "epidemic orientalism" and Priscilla Wald's "medicalized nativism," this essay investigates how these chosen comics function as counternarratives through first-person storytelling. In so doing, these comics, while reinstating the dignity of East Asians, also challenge and resist the naturalized methods of seeing that justify violence and dehumanization. The article further argues that Sinophobia and anti-Asian hate crimes are motivated as much by the origins of COVID-19 in China as by the political, economic, and technological variables that have shaped modern China.

Talk therapy is, by definition, difficult, if not impossible, to represent materially. Whereas other scholars have sought to do so by referencing Sigmund Freud's drawings or the setting of his consulting room, this article looks instead to the use of cloth in Joanne Greenberg's 1964 semiautobiographical novel I Never Promised You a Rose Garden. The two main treatments given to protagonist Deborah Blau were therapy sessions with Dr. Clara Fried, based on Frieda Fromm-Reichmann, and the "cold pack," in which the patient was restrained and wrapped in sheets drenched with ice water. The two treatments, this article argues, can be considered in parallel, and through analysis of the material descriptions of the cold pack, one can learn more about the talking cure. Namely, this article analyzes the care in both cases as one of constraint, giving material form to the metaphorical "holding environment" of psychoanalyst D. W. Winnicott. Deborah uses the cold pack to endure her psychosis and return to reality. Similarly, Winnicott describes the ideal therapeutic space as one that, by its reliability, allows regression in service of finding a new self and distinguishing between fantasy and the outside world. The aim of this article is thus twofold: one, to further elucidate the role of cloth in treating mental distress, and two, to understand more fully the therapeutic relationship via the literal and figurative constraint of treatment.

This paper argues that the newspaper Notre Journal enshrined the importance of narrative in the revolutionary psychiatry of its founder and editor, Frantz Fanon. Anchoring my analysis in the interdisciplinarity of the medical humanities, I demonstrate how care at Hôpital Blida-Joinville in colonial Algeria was mediated by the written word. I examine Fanon's physician writing and editorial texts detailing the use of narrative approaches in the clinic. As an object of care, Notre Journal's promotion of psychic healing, social actions, and engaged professional practice shaped the interactions and experiences of patients and staff. Printed and distributed to the wider institution, the newspaper created community-during an oppressive French Occupation and at the outset of the War of Independence-in addition to nurturing creativity, curiosity, solidarity, and accountability. Still, Fanon would come to recognize the limits of narrative methods amidst cultural oral traditions, illiteracy, and divergent attitudes about narrating the self.

This creative-critical piece reflects on the practices of recording, communicating, and caring that took place on social media and in digital spaces during the COVID-19 pandemic. Using my own experience of contracting COVID-19 as a starting point, the piece looks at the ways in which epidemics have often been recorded in collaborative ways, with the personal, professional, and familial converging in historical texts that could be used as sources of medical authority. COVID-19 has similarly been immortalized across a variety of forms and by different communities. The piece particularly explores the ways in which collective epidemic experience has been represented online through autopathographical Tweets, TikTok cures, and group chat messages and the future purposes that such collaborative patient narratives can serve.

As someone diagnosed with severe chronic mental illness early in my adolescence, I have spent over half of my life feeling out of step with the rest of the world due to hospitalizations, treatment programs, and the disruptions caused by anxiety, anorexia, depression, and obsessive-compulsive disorder. The effect of my mental health conditions compounded by these treatment environments means I often feel that I experience time passing differently, which results in sensations of removal and isolation from those around me. The global shutdown caused by the COVID-19 pandemic seemed a way for normative bodies to experience the passing of time the way I always have. In this paper, I extend Dr. Sara Wasson's analysis of the ways in which chronic pain resists narrative coherence to my own temporal experience of chronic mental illness, specifically my embodied experience of the pandemic. I use that embodied experience as a case study for examining how the reciprocal nature of time and narrativity, as outlined by Dr. Paul Ricoeur, can create isolation for those struggling with their temporality due to chronic mental illness. To acknowledge and grapple with the ramifications of discursive and material privilege involved in such situations, I include an analysis of Robert Desjarlais's 1994 article "Struggling Along: The Possibilities for Experience among the Homeless Mentally Ill," in which he investigates a similar phenomenon of being outside of structured sequential narrative time in the residents of a Boston shelter for the mentally ill.