Altruism

I have been thinking about this word lately, especially during this largest and longest Ebola outbreak in history. The Merriam-Webster dictionary defines altruism as feelings and behavior that show a desire to help other people and a lack of selfishness.

The first time I heard the word mentioned was from the urologist who performed my kidney surgery to transplant my kidney to my sister who suffered from chronic renal failure as a result of her systemic lupus twenty years ago.  When I made the decision to do so, it did not occur to me that it was an act of altruism.  To me it was very simply out of my love for my sister.  I wanted her to be able to be free from peritoneal dialysis and hemodialysis, being tied to a procedure which did not allow her to do the things that she loved. 

It was also my way of paying back as many years ago when I was accepted to Wellesley College on a full scholarship, my sister and her husband bought a one-way ticket for me to fly from Malaysia to United States so I could attend college.  It was a great financial expense for them.  Hence I did not see my decision to donate one of my kidneys to her as an act of selflessness.  My three children were young then.  They were in the hospital when my sister and I had our surgeries, she in the next room being prepared to receive my kidney.  They had a real fear of the possibility of losing their mother. I did not think of it at the time but now thinking back my decision to do so must have made an impression on their young minds that when one of their siblings or friends is in need, no matter what it is, they should step up to the plate. 

So in donating my kidney, I might inadvertently be performing a selfish act.  When my sister and her husband helped me to fly to the States, there was no way that I could have repaid them in monetary terms for they did that out of love for me and out of the desire to help me to pursue my dreams.  My children benefited from this act by learning to treasure family tie and sibling relationship in ways that I could not have done otherwise. I delved in the pleasure of dreaming of she and her husband gallivanting about Europe once she was no longer tied to a machine.  All these rewards after an act of so-called altruism made it difficult for me to see that it was a true act of altruism and not an act of selfish pleasure.

In years past, volunteering in medical relief as a doctor in various parts of the world in natural disasters, conflict, and war, helping people to feel a little better, the refugees in the camps to regain some degree of human dignity and in the process saving some lives, actually give me a great deal of purpose in life and deep happiness.  Indeed losing oneself in the immersion of helping others is exhilarating, addicting, and intoxicating.   Studies have shown that those who help others have a healthier life and live longer.  So I may be the beneficiary of these benefits. When helping others or performing acts of altruism, the pleasure center in the brain lights up in the same area as when we are loved, when we flirt, have sex, or enjoy life’s simple pleasures.  If altruism gives us such pleasures, is it then an act that lacks selfishness? 

In my cumulative three months of volunteering as a doctor in the Ebola Treatment Units in Liberia and Sierra Leone in the Ebola outbreak in West Africa, I was emotionally overwhelmed by the intense pain and suffering of the people and felt powerless against the unrelenting waves of deaths caused by the virus.  Even in this situation of “altruism” as a volunteer in the Ebola outbreak, my rewards were immeasurable.  My volunteering gave me a strong sense of purpose in life, and a wholesome dose of incalculable fulfillment and untold satisfaction that in some subliminal infinitesimal way I played a part in something greater than myself.  I bore witness to the greater triumph of our noble, kind, compassionate, caring part of humanity which again showed its capacity to rise to the challenge of this deadly virus by the willingness of our fellow humans to even give their lives to save another.  As a participant in this outbreak I bore witness to the resilience and courage displayed by both the sufferers and the helpers, and the brave and selfless acts of numerous nationals and volunteers who displayed altruism in the true sense of the word:  “Greater love has no one than this: to lay down one's life for one's friends”. 

In less than two days I will be heading to Nepal to offer medical assistance to the quake victims. I am sure my reward will be far greater than what I could give. 
If there is internet, I will try to blog nepalkwankewlai@blogspot.com

End of Quarantine

My daughter called and said, ”Congratulations, you’re free from Ebola!”

April 15 was my last day of quarantine.  I had never once developed a fever or any symptoms except some short periods of fatigue right after a brisk run and once in a while troubled by my migraine, but no aches and pain to speak of. 

This time around after my volunteering, I was quite confident that I was not incubating Ebola. My experience in Sierra Leone was slower paced and less intense than my experience in Liberia.  I also felt safe in our infection control practices in the ETC.  Of course there were the subliminal positive thoughts of family and friends and the protective “pink bubble” into its cocoon some of my Wellesley friends have placed me for the duration of my time in West Africa.  With the end of my quarantine, I can now emerge into the world without fear of infecting a vulnerable person.

I was never cooped up in my house, having long walks into the ever changing Habitat of Belmont now that spring is coming, running almost most mornings and spotting snow drops and crocuses peeking through residual snow and dead autumn leaves.  Soon there will be the bright yellow forsythia, soft pink cherry blossoms and my backyard is already covered with carpets of deep blue Siberian squill Scilla, all signs of spring that bring a song to my heart.  There are also bright red Cardinals with their less opulently colored partners, fat red-breasted robins, Canadian geese, and ducks almost always traveling in couples.  Woodpeckers peck furiously on dead tree trunks at such a speed that one wonders why they do not suffer from concussion. Once a rafter of six turkeys flew into my neighbor’s backyard rousing the interest of Grisela who pretended she was really not interested in them and skirted around them and finally made a move for the kill.  They lived.  Another evening I saw what looked like an osprey flying in the sky with its big wing span.

Siberian squill Scilla

Grisela Stalking the Turkeys

In our neighborhood there is a lone wild tom turkey which must have lost his mate for at least a year but he roams around here, occasionally making a display of his tail and his gobbles could be heard in the evening.  He must be a very lonesome creature.  My neighbor has observed Gri stalking the tom some mornings when she is not stalking the numerous squirrels here.  In the evenings there are the Belmont bunnies coming out to feed in the gardens.

The State Health Department was quite concerned about my cat being exposed to me.  There is also a myriad of animals and living things in my yard that I made friend with…

Figuring that I was no longer a threat to anyone on my last day of quarantine, I went to Wellesley College to watch the carillonneurs play the Wellesley Carillon: 30 bronze bells from England in Galen Stone Tower.  In the evening, I attended a talk by Nicolas Kristof, the Pulitzer Price Award winner about his recently published book “ A Path Appears”

Galen Stone Tower of Wellesley College

I sneaked into the Museum of Fine Arts early one morning when I felt the crowd would be thin to see the exhibitions of the internationally known Japanese artist, Katsushika Hokusai who was most known for his woodcut print “Under the Wave Off Kanagawa (Great Wave)”.  I was actually swept away by the enormous crowd in the MFA!

Hokusai Great Wave

I was not the best behaved person during the quarantine but I mourn its passing because now I have no more excuses but to resume the responsibilities out in the “real world”. 

William Wordsworth describes my mood best in his poem: I Wandered Lonely as a Cloud

I wandered lonely as a cloud

That floats on high o'er vales and hills,

When all at once I saw a crowd,

A host, of golden daffodils;

Beside the lake, beneath the trees,

Fluttering and dancing in the breeze.

Continuous as the stars that shine

And twinkle on the milky way,

They stretched in never-ending line

Along the margin of a bay:

Ten thousand saw I at a glance,

Tossing their heads in sprightly dance.

The waves beside them danced; but they

Out-did the sparkling waves in glee:

A poet could not but be gay,

In such a jocund company:

I gazed—and gazed—but little thought

What wealth the show to me had brought:

For oft, when on my couch I lie

In vacant or in pensive mood,

They flash upon that inward eye

Which is the bliss of solitude;

And then my heart with pleasure fills,

And dances with the daffodils.

The Inconvenience of a Quarantine

Starting week two of my quarantine. 

The last time I had a fever was when I got sick with dengue almost two years ago and I have not had a fever since.  I am pretty confident that I will not come down with Ebola.  In Lunsar ETC, I don’t recall any breaches or exposure.  The time I spent in the ETC donning PPE was miniscule compared to when I was in Bong ETU, Liberia when the patient exposure was intense and the crammed quarters made maneuvering among infected patients quite treacherous.  

Asymptomatic individual does not incubate the Ebola infection and yet asymptomatic volunteers are restricted in appearing in crowds which goes against evidenced based reasoning.  Because of that, I will be missing my daughter’s first one-person Art Show in Burlington, Vermont, this evening and the Harvard Law Review Banquet at the Harvard Club next week.  I don’t care that much about the banquet but I am sure sorry to miss the opening of the Art Show.  This will be her first since graduating from Rhode Island School of Design years ago. If anyone is in the Burlington area, do drop by and view her paintings.  Break a leg, Cara or as Grisela would say,"Break four legs!"

My brother and I always dabble in painting in our spare moments; when I was twelve my colored pencil drawing was chosen and made its way in a traveling exhibition in Asia along with a whole bunch of works submitted by other children.  My brother also submitted his painting bringing awareness to world hunger.  Now and then my daughter and I have our works exhibited at the Belmont Gallery of Art.  Last but not least, Cara’s great grandmother was like my brother and me, a self-taught painter, and sold her paintings on the weekends in Greenwich Village in New York. There may be some genetic components to Cara’s art talent but her styles and ideas are uniquely her own (www.cara-doo.com). 

Great Grandmother Amolia Selling her Paintings in Greenwich Village 

I might have harbored the wish to be an artist when I was young but the reality of a starving artist was looming too large for me.  I needed to be financially independent and I definitely had no desire to depend on a spouse or others for my survival; like my poor mother who did not have a choice.  Looking back I still think being a doctor is still the best decision I made.  In my next life if there was one, I would, without a doubt, choose to be a doctor again. 

My Painting: A Swan in Trent, Italy