As I write, Paul Kalanithi’s book When Breath Becomes Air sits atop the New York Times Bestseller List. I highly recommend it. It is beautiful.
This book was written by a dying man. All books are, I suppose, but this author knew with more certainty than most that his time was short. Paul Kalanithi was finishing a grueling neurosurgery residency and on the cusp of a brilliant career when he discovered he had advanced lung cancer. In this book, written during the last months of his short life, he tells his story, a story of his search for meaning. He initially looked for meaning in the study of words, as he collected degrees in English and history and philosophy. But he discovered that meaning is not just read about, but lived, lived in relationships with others. As he thought about relationships, words, minds, and the brains through which words and minds are expressed, he writes that he “couldn’t let go of the question: Where did biology, morality, literature, and philosophy intersect?” The answer wasn’t to be found, for him, in the classroom: “. . . I found myself increasingly often arguing that direct experience of life-and-death questions was essential to generating substantial moral opinions about them. Words began to feel as weightless as the breath that carried them. . . It was only in practicing medicine that I could pursue a serious biological philosophy. Moral speculation was puny compared to moral action.”
And this illustrates one of the great strengths of the book: the profound understanding that medicine is at its heart a moral practice.
The views, opinions and positions expressed by these authors and blogs are theirs and do not necessarily represent that of the Bioethics Research Library and Kennedy Institute of Ethics or Georgetown University.