Lillian's 2nd Letter to Cecil

Dear Cecil,

We are all broken creatures. Every poor, lonely, confused human being struggling to make it to the next dawn with their sanity and will intact. Some of us hide the damage better than others. Some of us have ghastly scars on the outside that belie a robust repair beneath. Jeremiah's condition should have been enough to shatter both his mind and Martin's, but instead Martin has actually started living again, and Jeremiah is one of the sanest people I've met in quite some time.

So rather than dead, Jeremiah is alive. Rather than baroquely suicidal, Martin has hope. Rather than a crazy girl doomed to a life of isolation behind a “respectable” facade, I am saving the world, and saving others from having to do the difficult things that saving the world requires. Rather than a mechanic punishing himself for his past failures, you are… well, I suppose that is for you to discover. But it is not your fault that we live in a broken world full of broken people, nor is it your job to undo the all damage that has been suffered. You have profound talents to reduce pain, but you cannot end pain. Celebrate what you can do, rather than mourning what you cannot.

There is no end to pain this side of the grave. I find comfort in that, though I know it makes others sad. Pain is normal, pain is expected, pain is bearable, pain does not signify failure. And if the pain does become too great to bear, there is always the final mercy. And knowing that it is always available, we can find in that knowledge the strength to continue instead.

Do what you can for Jeremiah, and Edgar, and Douglas, and for yourself. In Jeremiah’s case, you have the comfort in knowing that you can hardly make things worse for him. Martin believes that any sort of life is superior to death, and he assures me that Jeremiah feels the same. Give him the best life you can. That is all any of us can do for one another.

As to Ms. Shelly’s novel, I will also note that I was always terribly disappointed by it. Dr. Frankenstein's sudden change of attitude at the climax of creation is a facile and implausible narrative device to create an intense moment of horror for the reader. Frankenstein has little to do with how scientists and healers approach the problems of alleviating pain and advancing human knowledge.

Ms. Shelly was my age when she was writing that book, and I think too many people overlook the fact that she was an educated young woman when considering her book. Victor Frankenstein becomes obsessed with his own potential to bring new life into the world, and his passionate feelings for the act of creation. Then at the climax of this generative act, he is suddenly overwhelmed with guilt and shame and fear at what he has done. He does not understand his own desires, and he is terrified of taking responsibility for the new life that he has brought into the world. Victor Frankenstein is basically a young woman dealing with her own sexual repression and fear and preoccupation with becoming pregnant.

I think that if Ms. Shelly had had a better sexual education and more considerate lovers, her novel would have been a much more interesting and insightful work of science fiction. Please don’t confuse her sexual panic for the anxiety you feel when contemplating Jeremiah’s suffering, or the difficult decisions that must nevertheless be made in balancing the risks to your patients vs the potential healing that may result.

We are none of us monsters, though we are all capable of monstrous acts, and sometimes find ourselves in situations where the least harmful choice available is nevertheless a horrible thing to contemplate. Cutting out a tumor is a bloody and painful and dangerous thing to do. It’s not an easy thing to recover from, and it can leave a terrible scar. Sometimes the patient dies anyway, and sometimes the cancer comes back. But it’s still the right thing to do.

What are we doing? We’re doing the best we know how. Please, whatever happens, remember that.

Love,

Lillian