43 pages • 1 hour read
Atul GawandeA modern alternative to SparkNotes and CliffsNotes, SuperSummary offers high-quality Study Guides with detailed chapter summaries and analysis of major themes, characters, and more.
Surgical scenes appear in almost every essay in Complications. The scenes stand for themselves, in the sense that they describe what happened, but they also act symbolically, underscoring themes of fallibility, mystery, and certainty. Gawande’s descriptions of surgery aren’t purely mechanical or medical; instead, he sets the scene, develops characters, and employs other literary mechanisms to separate one surgical scene from the next and to give the stories depth and meaning.
In “When Doctors Make Mistakes,” Gawande uses repetition to underscore the urgency and uncertainty he felt performing a tracheotomy: “Finally, I took the scalpel and cut. I just cut” (52). In “Education of a Knife,” Gawande illuminates the concept of practice triumphing over talent by tracking his own ability in installing a central line. At first, he approaches his patient in clumsy terms: He “kept spearing his clavicle instead of slipping beneath it” (14). Later, however, performing the same operation, he says, “I felt the tip slip underneath his clavicle […] I was in” (21).
In “The Computer and the Hernia Factory,” Gawande describes Dr. Sang’s operation on a hernia patient at the Shouldice Hospital with a quickened pace that reflects the surgery itself. He stops at each step to say other hospitals might do differently to highlight Shouldice’s innovation. Emphasizing the hospital’s unique efficiency, he adds, “the procedure had taken just half an hour” (40).
In “Nine Thousand Surgeons,” Gawande showcases doctors in their off-the-clock mode, emphasizing their playfulness and their susceptibility to spectacle. Gawande uses word choice to emphasize the fun, rather than the seriousness, of an operation he watches on film: “the surgeon made getting it out seem like play. He plucked at fragile vessels and slashed through tissue millimeters from vital organs” (78). In “Final Cut,” Gawande also uses language to emphasize the crudeness of the autopsy compared to other operations, using verbs like “flayed” and “sawed open” and a simile to underline the mechanical nature of the procedure: “she lifted the rib cage as if it were the hood of a car” (189).
Paradox and contradiction arise as a motif in Complications. Gawande’s conclusions about fallibility, mystery, and uncertainty are riddled with contradiction. Making mistakes is part of medicine, as is the fact that doctors endeavor to achieve perfection. Innovation and research often lead to more mystery (as in the case with the gastric bypass). Uncertainty is often accompanied by split-second decisiveness.
There are also paradoxes in the treatment of illness. In “A Queasy Feeling,” Gawande catalogues a long list of antiemetics that work for one type of nausea and not another. There’s the paradox of a patient with nausea being technically healthy but desperately sick: “The patient, we say, is 'fine,’ but the suffering is no less” (143).
Cures are examples of paradox, too. A patient who suffered with humiliation and embarrassment caused by her blushing underwent an operation to stop her from blushing, only to find that she was then embarrassed about having had to resort to surgery at all: “People need to know—surgery isn’t the end of it” (161). There’s the paradox in making medical decisions, as Gawande argues in “Whose Body Is It, Anyway?” that patients are “glad to have their autonomy respected, but the exercise of that autonomy means being able to relinquish it” (220).
Gawande embraces paradox and contradiction in his arguments, rather than trying to arrive at black-and-white conclusions. As expressed in the title of the collection, the truths of medicine—and humanity—are complicated.
The many literary and historical references to illness, biology, and medicine in Complications create a noteworthy motif and speak to Gawande’s voracious appetite for information from all sources. His curiosity is a trait that drives his writing and gives momentum and excitement to the collection of essays.
Historical references also contribute to the reader’s understanding of various topics. In “Final Cut,” Gawande catalogues ancient autopsies to give a sense of the complicated, if ancient, history of the procedure; he references Julius Caesar’s “twenty-three wounds, including a final, fatal stab to the chest” (192) and the forensic autopsy of Pope Alexander V.
The literary figures quoted in Complications describe physiological conditions in non-medical terms that help to illuminate or amplify their peculiarity. Gawande quotes Mark Twain in describing the befuddling phenomenon of blushing: “’Man is the only animal that blushes,’ Mark Twain wrote. ‘Or needs to’” (149). He quotes Cicero in “A Queasy Feeling” to emphasize how “intensely aversive” nausea is: “Cicero claimed he ‘would rather be killed than again suffer the tortures of seasickness’” (133).
Historical references also touch on themes of mystery and fallibility, as many of science’s former certainties have been debunked or will be debunked. The Cartesian theory of pain, as referenced in “The Pain Perplex,” is one such example. The litany of outdated diets in “The Man Who Couldn’t Stop Eating” is another. These examples serve to remind the reader that medicine, with its modern advances and successes, exists on a time–culture continuum. Gawande keeps history in view as he writes, likely aware he’s participating in the same ongoing, fluid historical conversation.
By Atul Gawande