I
Very little is expected of those who are ill. Their family wants them to simply stay in bed and rest, so as to not exacerbate the illness. They are no longer the caretaker; conversely, they are the ones to be cared for, in the same way as parents take care of their children, or of those who are of senile age.
A man who is truly sick is a man without obligation. He is a man free from all those responsibilities assigned to the healthy masses. He is not required to work and provide for his family, or even just for himself. Take Gregor Samsa, the protagonist of Kafka’s “The Metamorphosis”. Once he had transformed into a giant bug, nothing was expected of him anymore; he was left alone to crawl around in his room. His family still, obviously, loathed him for his existence as an insect and his inability to provide, but they never expected him to do anything about it. Is it not great, having no expectations imposed upon you?
All this, of course, is not to say that there do not exist scenarios in which the sick man is still working and supporting his family, despite knowing that he is ill and has no obligation to do so anymore. In those men, there exists an inherent persistence of a beast, mighty willpower, and unyielding determination to persevere no matter what. I applaud these men, but I could never become like them, as I have none of their characteristics, and do not wish to have them in the first place. Such a life of constant persistence appals me. I could never be Sisyphus; if I were to discover that I had to push a boulder up a mountain for eternity, I would stay supine at the bottom forever, too stubborn and indignant to move a muscle.
II
And that’s precisely why, gentlemen, I desire to be sick. As I lay there at the foot of the mountain, not wanting to push the boulder, I would feel all sorts of guilt and a sense of obligation to do it, as long as I am healthy. But if I became sick, say cancer, there would no longer be a reason for me not to lie there. I would finally feel free, free from the burden of my laborious existence.
However, is that really the case that I wish to trade my healthy life for a sick one? Who in their right mind would want that?
Well, as mentioned above, the answer to the latter question is the one who does not desire all the obligations that are characteristic of a healthy life. I do not wish to work, and I do not wish to provide for anyone, including myself. I do not want to put any effort into my being. But these wants come with a lot of guilt, because I feel responsible to do those things, I feel responsible to put effort into my life. As far as I am aware, such responsibility is inherent to human nature and is impossible to escape through any means other than being sick.
Very little is expected of those who are ill. Their family wants them to simply stay in bed and rest, so as to not exacerbate the illness. They are no longer the caretaker; conversely, they are the ones to be cared for, in the same way as parents take care of their children, or of those who are of senile age.
A man who is truly sick is a man without obligation. He is a man free from all those responsibilities assigned to the healthy masses. He is not required to work and provide for his family, or even just for himself. Take Gregor Samsa, the protagonist of Kafka’s “The Metamorphosis”. Once he had transformed into a giant bug, nothing was expected of him anymore; he was left alone to crawl around in his room. His family still, obviously, loathed him for his existence as an insect and his inability to provide, but they never expected him to do anything about it. Is it not great, having no expectations imposed upon you?
All this, of course, is not to say that there do not exist scenarios in which the sick man is still working and supporting his family, despite knowing that he is ill and has no obligation to do so anymore. In those men, there exists an inherent persistence of a beast, mighty willpower, and unyielding determination to persevere no matter what. I applaud these men, but I could never become like them, as I have none of their characteristics, and do not wish to have them in the first place. Such a life of constant persistence appals me. I could never be Sisyphus; if I were to discover that I had to push a boulder up a mountain for eternity, I would stay supine at the bottom forever, too stubborn and indignant to move a muscle.
II
And that’s precisely why, gentlemen, I desire to be sick. As I lay there at the foot of the mountain, not wanting to push the boulder, I would feel all sorts of guilt and a sense of obligation to do it, as long as I am healthy. But if I became sick, say cancer, there would no longer be a reason for me not to lie there. I would finally feel free, free from the burden of my laborious existence.
However, is that really the case that I wish to trade my healthy life for a sick one? Who in their right mind would want that?
Well, as mentioned above, the answer to the latter question is the one who does not desire all the obligations that are characteristic of a healthy life. I do not wish to work, and I do not wish to provide for anyone, including myself. I do not want to put any effort into my being. But these wants come with a lot of guilt, because I feel responsible to do those things, I feel responsible to put effort into my life. As far as I am aware, such responsibility is inherent to human nature and is impossible to escape through any means other than being sick.
