Admissions (memoir)

I can't remember exactly how I ended up with Admissions in my hand. I think I saw it on some recommended book list, maybe a Powells email? But I remember thinking that Henry Marsh would have a very different brain and life than mine (seeing as I'm not a brain surgeon). I was curious how his brain worked. I have enough performance anxiety and impostor syndrome for a desk job. How does a brain surgeon even function with that weight on their shoulders?

Imagine my surprise when the book kicks off with the very same (semi-obsessive) thoughts I have about the amount of time we suffer in our declining health before we die. My thoughts stem from a serious medical issue that knocked me out of commission for the better part of 6 months about 4 years ago. I thought I was going to die. I didn't want to be a depressive, weakened mess for years before I finally did. (Spoiler! I didn't die!) Marsh's thoughts stem from watching so many people suffer and suffer and then die -- and the fact that he's aging and grappling with what this will look like for him. He's had a front row seat to his potential future. And it scares the crap out of him. There's a lot of discussion around whether it's right to save people who will suffer or not have much of a functional brain. There's a lot of bitterly admitting we don't really have humane euthanasia. Why can't we? Obviously, fear and laws. You know, so we don't go around killing everyone old for fun? (Is that really the fear?) But the alternative is -- this. What we have now. People -- or their bodies -- hanging on in pain until their bodies finally fail. 

It was both comforting and alarming to have a brain surgeon echo my thoughts on this exactly. Remind me to move to a "right to death" state posthaste. 

This book reads like a memoir. At times there are not necessarily notable things -- like family history, relationship stories or retirement thoughts about purpose and usefulness. And at times there's specifics to brain surgery that are interesting. Like him going and sitting on a couch mid-surgery while another surgeon takes over. Is that a thing, brain surgeons?

Since I'm in the US and Marsh is in the UK, there's a lot of discussion about the NHS, which was novel to me. (And depressing. Because, America. Oh, America.) There's also a few chapters on Marsh's work in a Nepalese hospital and all of the cultural differences (strong family pride) or similarities (treat at any cost) that brings up.

Overall: It was interesting enough but not necessarily a page-turner.