November 2, 1993
Chicago
Justice and truth are fled. Let the games begin.
Very heavy people are teaching people how to cook. The human heart comes in only one size, basically. It is designed to sustain the life of a medium to large size creature. It is never big enough to pump blood to a huge person; not efficiently, and not for long. Nature’s notion is to suit the pump to the job. Human beings ignore the rules. No other creature would—not on a large scale, at least.
Many people complain that they are overweight, that they can’t move around as freely as they would like, that they want to look better, meaning slimmer; that they have high blood pressure; that they are developing heart disease. The truth is that many people can improve. They can do it by themselves. The truth is they don’t want to improve; they want to be improved by someone. They ask doctors to give them something. They watch television broadcasts that show them how to prepare “low fat” foods, which are not low fat at all. The foods are not so different from the foods they have been eating all along, that any serious change need be made, or any sacrifice. Think about this. The complainer has a problem, for which the complainer could use a solution. The complainer looks for the solution, but settles for a solution disguised as different from the old bad habit which brought about the need for a solution in the first place—but which is not significantly different at all–it’s commonly, these days, a slight, that is, negligible improvement over the bad practice. The idea that the complainer has at least addressed the problem. The complainer is consoled that the problem has been faced and an effort has been made. When the new practice turns out to be useless, as it will inevitably be, the complainer reverts to the still most popular recourse: to a doctor, pharmacist, or surgeon who will prescribe a drug or mechanical procedure to fix the problem.
Complainers regard the changing of their eating habits as a drastic and difficult solution. They regard the hacking open of their chests and the cutting, scraping, sewing, re-routing, expanding, squeezing bloody acts of the trendy BYPASS OPERATION, as a conservative alternative.
It’s also unnecessarily expensive. Once the complainer has gone this far, the complainer is free. Having gone to this awful (and it leaves one truly in awe) extreme, having suffered this near death-dealing assault on the fragile human body (and the body is stricken almost beyond recall in most, if not all cases); the patient knows that the ultimate act has been performed, the ultimate step has been taken. The supreme sacrifice of fear, physical abuse, and severely high expense has been made. . . What more could a person do? Free at last, oh my, I’m free at last.
Wrong. Heart bypass operations are expensive temporary fixes. They amount to ineffective exaggerated first aid. They come down to a blind dedication to superficial mechanization that is designed to relieve a person from the responsibility or maintain and protecting one’s own life. That is a bad idea. Worse than that is incontrovertible truth that the surgery by itself will not solve the problem. What is required after the operation is the changing of eating habits that would have (might well have in many cases) removed the problem in the first place; making the surgery unnecessary. But now, the view is that the plumbing has been repaired, so we can let the games begin again. It was a close call, but all’s well again. Life has been cruel, but there is new hope, thanks to technology. The old eating practices may have been harmful, but the victim is reborn and ready to jump back into the coliseum and grapple with irresistible, provocative death food. Gladiators, as a rule, did not fare well in the arena. Human beings, who insist on grappling instead of foreswearing, fare no better today.
The surgeon has eliminated the need. I’m not sure who would rank as more negligent—the doctor who fails to send away the patient with proper instructions regarding the new diet that must be put into practice, or the patient who refuses to learn that it is necessary. Who is more negligent—the cook who truly does not know what constitutes low fat, low salt, and low sugar cuisine, but presents fraudulent versions as healthful to millions of viewers and readers, or the public who accept the fraud?
Truth is fled. But justly, the price will be paid. Self-deception is a dangerous and expensive game.