Wishing Every Living Person Could Receive Care and Love
February 11, 2021 in the Gregorian calendar, New Year's Eve in the Lunar calendar. I got up very early in the morning. After the three of us happily finished breakfast, I, as usual, picked up my laptop and went to my study to handle the various tasks of the day.
When I got downstairs, the front-desk property staff gave me a big smile, and we wished each other a Happy New Year. It has been five years, and I do not know her name, nor does she likely know mine. Although we have not talked much, whenever we see each other we always nod and smile; that smile brings good mood to both of us—no one can refuse another person's genuine kindness.
Once in the study, I opened WeChat Moments and quickly skimmed through; most people were posting New Year wishes. Among the many greetings, two were posting obituaries, and several WeChat friends were deeply grieved, mourning loved ones they had just lost this year. Some families rejoice while others grieve; on this day of reunion, the world holds both joy and sorrow.
My work has no such thing as annual leave; every day all kinds of patients develop new situations that need me to find ways to solve. This is a profession that stands guard over life. Although those of us who study medicine cannot solve all of a patient's problems, we have the obligation and responsibility to do our utmost to prevent death and to do our utmost to help patients escape suffering.
The first patient to give me feedback in the morning brought good news. This was a cervical cancer patient hospitalized in a Shanghai hospital. After radiotherapy, she had nausea, vomiting, diarrhea, persistent high fever, thrombocytopenia, epistaxis, poor appetite, and had not eaten for many days, sustained only by nutritional fluids. After a video consultation with me, I prescribed Huanglian Jiedu Decoction for her. After taking it, her symptoms improved: she no longer vomited, her fever came down, and although the diarrhea had not completely resolved, her stools had begun to form, no longer watery as in previous days, and she was able to eat. For many people, the happiness they need at this moment is the laughter of family reunion, but for such patients their demands are very low—they only hope not to suffer so much.
Why did I prescribe Huanglian Jiedu Decoction for this patient (Coptis 6 g, Phellodendron 6 g, Scutellaria 9 g, Gardenia 9 g; because it was inconvenient for the patient to decoct herbs, I had her family steep the herbs in boiling water like tea and give it to her to drink)? Because, from the perspective of TCM pattern differentiation, this patient's symptoms belonged to fire-toxin in the triple burner, requiring Huanglian Jiedu Decoction to clear heat and resolve toxin.
This may be an individual case among radiotherapy patients, or it may be a common symptom. Western medicine diagnoses such patients with radiation enteritis; from the TCM perspective, this is an iatrogenic triple-burner fire-toxin syndrome caused by radiotherapy. If other patients develop the same symptoms during radiotherapy and have no good way to resolve them, with no suitable TCM physician nearby, they may consider trying this method.
The second patient to give me feedback was also a cervical cancer patient. She was currently in Inner Mongolia and had already been feeling heat and profuse sweating for two months; over the last two days she had additionally developed a bitter taste in the mouth, dry mouth, and restlessness, so agitated that she called me on WeChat for over half an hour last night to pour out her troubles. Half a month earlier, I had already suggested she take Xiaochaihu granules and suggested she have a complete blood count checked at a local hospital, because I personally judged from her symptoms that she might have an infection—but my suggestion was not adopted. The doctors at the Mongolian medicine hospital where she was would not order this test, because they felt the patient had yin deficiency with effulgent fire and that there was no infection.
Today, the patient helplessly went to the hospital for another checkup; her white blood cells were markedly higher than usual, and the neutrophil percentage was also elevated—she indeed had an infection. From the perspective of TCM pattern differentiation, this patient belonged to the Shaoyang syndrome; the representative formula for treating Shaoyang syndrome is Xiaochaihu Decoction. This time the local hospital doctors agreed to prescribe seven days of Xiaochaihu granules (a Chinese patent medicine). I hope her suffering will be relieved in the coming days.
I am no miracle doctor; I have even long lacked confidence in my own medical skill, but occasionally I can indeed solve a few patients' problems. When people lose their health, the only people they can rely on are those of us who study medicine. I am grateful that some patients have not abandoned me; they regard me as someone they can trust, sincerely and faithfully seeking my help, and also show me sufficient respect. I have the responsibility and obligation to do my utmost to solve their problems. I am not a savior, nor am I an indiscriminately good person; I have my own life. But for patients who seek help with genuine sincerity, I am still willing to sacrifice my rest time to solve their problems.
A human being is one of the humble sentient beings. We live in nature, and besides sunlight, food, air, and water, what we need most is care and love. What I find most unacceptable about Buddhism is that it, completely against human nature, treats the most beautiful love between the sexes as a burden of life. The Buddha said: "Beware of union with the senses; union with the senses begets disaster," and also: "People are bound to wives, children, and home worse than to prison, for prison has a time of release, while wives and children have no thought of being left behind." Many of the Buddha's ideas resonate deeply with me, but this attitude toward love between the sexes and toward family affection is one I cannot easily agree with, which is why I have still not taken refuge in him.
Without the care of family and loved ones, I would feel life has no meaning. I admit that the great monks and masters are extraordinarily skilled in restraining their desires, but I do not envy such achievements in the least. I am willing to live in the care of others, and willing to care for everyone as best I can.
Einstein said that love is humanity's only redemption in this world. Nowadays, the shadow of the pandemic hangs over all humankind, and many people have entered a mode of "everyone hating everyone," with deep hostility in their hearts. If these people had someone who cared for them, and someone they cared for, perhaps they would not be so filled with hostility.
A couple of days ago, I waived the medical fees for several long-term patients who were both poor and ill. I told them to boldly continue seeking my help when problems arise, and not to feel uneasy about owing money. This is the most practical care I can offer to the world. My power is very limited; I cannot help everyone, but within the scope of my ability and vision, I am willing to use this way to bring a little warmth to some people. I know there are still many such patients in the world who need help, and I am glad that I have the karmic affinity to help a few. My mother taught me from childhood to have a heart of compassion for the suffering of others. Although my mother has left this world, her love and education have long since left a deep imprint on me.
Buddhism advocates cutting off love and abandoning desire. I can strive to be pure in heart and of few desires, but I simply do not want to cut off love—I secretly think that treating the cutting off of love as a noble conduct is sheer inversion of right and wrong. My life experience tells me that it is precisely ample love and being loved that have given me incomparable happiness; what I have seen and heard also tells me that only with more care in the world can people have peace and happiness. In this age, too many people are manufacturing hate speech and inciting emotion, and every year quite a few doctors are killed by patients or patients' families possessed by hatred; I have no intention of joining the ranks of these haters.
As always, I urge everyone to love yourselves, love your families, and, where possible, care for others, extending a helping hand to those in adversity. Once I wished I could kill with my own hands those who had hurt my mother, but as long as several years ago I forgave these people and let go of all hatred in my heart. I believe that my mother, if she knew in the underworld, would also understand and support my doing so. Hatred only creates more tragedy; only forgiveness and care can dissolve the hostility of the world.
So on this day when ten thousand families reunite, I wish that every living person could receive care. I wish that in the new year, everyone can give care to others and also receive care in return.