Boundaries, eh?

I found the articles dissecting Oliver Sacks’ anthropo-literary style very intriguing. Throughout this semester, I have been struck by the boundaries I would normally assume to exist between patient and doctor being blurred and, in some instances, nonexistent as regards Sacks and his subjects. For the most part, I was happily surprised at the manner by which Sacks seeps into the lives of his patients and, comparatively, he he allows them to seep into his life. This reaction was especially prominent when reading sections from An Anthropologist on Mars, wherein he traveled to Pontito with his eidetic memory patient, Franco. In turn, seeing Sacks zonked out (for lack of a more apt term) on kava juice (?) as he explored Micronesia during The Island of the Colorblind. Indeed, Sacks provides his readers not only with a portrayal of his subjects, but also (as Couser points out in reference to Sacks’ films) “Sacks himself enters the frame; he, too, is available for visual inspection, as is his interaction with his subjects.” His presence is also repeatedly felt throughout his writing, wherein he continually analyzes how he feels about his patients, their dispositions, and his philosophical ideations.
There is also a part of me, however, that wonders about how much blurring of the boundaries between a patient and a doctor is appropriate. Should there be fine lines of demarcation? I know, in situations I’ve been involved in, there has always seemed to be somewhat of a dichotomy (involving power levels) between my status as a patient, seeking “treatment,” and the doctor’s status as the treatment provider. [I have, however, been known to foster somewhat dichotic views, and so perhaps more of my own perception may account for these ostensibly clear-cut delineations].
I wonder also, however, especially in light of all our readings for this semester (especially Joseph LeDoux’s), whether it is indeed better to have less rigid boundaries. In fact, when I call the Echo Maker to mind, it seems that conceiving of boundaries as fixed and inflexible entities is absolutely false—and one would be pathological to assume this as truth.
Indeed, as LeDoux asserts in our final reading of his “Synaptic Self,” though different brain regions are distinct in a cytoarchitectonic and organizational sense, to conceive of our neural structures as distinct, isolated entities is inaccurate. Each depends upon another to carry out its function, and thus illustrates the fluidity of perceived distinction.
Overall, then, it’s difficult to decide what my stance is on Sacks and his dealings with his patients. In no way do I agree with the authors who deem his interactions violating or reminiscent of freak shows. However, I think that his style of patient-doctor relationship certainly transgresses conventional lines. That said, I do believe this method helps bridge the gap between the pathological and the non-pathological. So much of Sacks’ work, I feel, results in a clearer image of what it might be like to be one of his patients. Indeed, a more integrative and holistic perspective is provided by all of his publications, wherein the reader (unless, like Cockburn, s/he decides to hate the man for no good reason) gleans a novel perspective, free from typically binary modes of thought (i.e. seeing a disorder only for its diagnostic criteria). And so, in conclusion, I would say that there’s a great deal of ambiguity here, which parallels the ambiguity Sacks introduces into his work. In turn, I feel that this ambiguity is a more accurate reflection of reality, in that conceived boundaries are, well, conceived. Changing. In flux. Not entirely solid or stable.
I appreciate this perspective, and recognize that it is not one to which I have generally adhered. Thus, as a result of reading Sacks, Powers, Skloot, LeDoux, and others (who have, in particular, seemed to promote the notion of flexibility rather than rigidity in their perspectives) my synapses seem to have done a little readjusting. Thanks, guys!