Brett Kosinski

Repair, it can Fail

Cancer creates cells. Cancer itself is an over reproduction of cells. It’s very nature is to make more cells, so shouldn’t cancer repair our body instead of damage it. Our body self-heals, yet at the same time it can internally implode due to illnesses. We try to repair people that have cancer, and sometimes we fail. It disturbs us when we fail, but it is also disturbing the extent we will go to try to repair people. As a race, we constantly try to attempt to repair or rebuild as much as possible, so isn’t it natural that the thing we cannot fix is ourselves. We can fix ourselves most of the time, but when a disease like cancer strikes, there is no room for repair. Even when a person overcomes cancer, the person isn’t repaired, the cancer is killed. People that get cancer or are affected by it are never truly the same, thus begging the question, when people are damaged in general, do they ever truly recover?

Humans, as a race, possess a desire to repair. We cannot watch as things deteriorate, because when people do, they feel guilty or as if they are not doing their part as a human being. This is a vital piece of the human condition. Other animals don’t feel the urge to repair that we do. This urge is instinctual, and for the most part does us well. It allows us to evolve and progress into the future; it also allows us to stay in touch with the past, and that’s something people crave. We need to feel connected to the future and past because it gives us meaning. There are times, however, that it would be a blessing to not have this urge to repair.

“The story of H. reparans throws into sharp relief how we humans have responded to the fact of being creatures who are inherently limited by the resources at our disposal, who are subject to the ever-present possibility of failure and decay, who sometimes seek continuity with the past, and who face the necessity of deciding whether or not to patch up relationships with our neighbors—in short, it reminds us of some facts about the human condition that perhaps we tend to find disturbing. (138–39)”. Spelman talks about how great repair is, and how humans need it and love it, but at the end of the book she talks about how repair can be disturbing. She talks about humans attempt to repair things at costs, and how we are built to fall apart but do everything we can to keep that from happening. Humans need consistency and need to stay in touch with the past and the future, and continuity allows us to do both. The bright side is evident in our lives, as repair is an instrumental part of the human condition. The dark side however, is evident to me all too well. My uncle was diagnosed with cancer when I was a freshman. I remember the day it happened, my mom’s whole family and everybody that knew my uncle was absolutely devastated. We all wondered why it happened to him because he was the healthiest, most vibrant, outgoing person we ever knew. He lived his whole life pushing the limits, as he was a ski instructor. On top of putting his body in danger for his job, he took part in challenging and activities like mountain biking, and mountain or rock climbing. Due to his adventurous lifestyle, his body was constantly in need of repair. Broken bones and scars never stopped him going out and living, but when cancer hit him, my uncle finally met his match. The cancer progressed rapidly, and my uncle began to deteriorate physically. Repair in this case can be disturbing because my whole family, myself included, at times I think forgot to appreciate the fact that my uncle was still around. We always hoped he would be repaired just like the countless times before, and this is where repair lets us down. There are so many resources we use to fix cancer patients, and none of them could help my uncle. The fact that we were all so accustomed to him being repaired successfully only made this ordeal that much more difficult. The thing is, though, my uncle was at peace throughout this whole situation. He knew he couldn’t be repaired this time and accepted it. Even though he was damaged, my uncle still went out and lived his life as he chose, still biking five thousand vertical feet, or climbing to the top of a mountain and then skiing down it. He didn’t need to be repaired because he overcame the societal belief that damaged objects, or in this case a person, need to be repaired. He instead just lived until his last day came. I think when dealing with true tragedy or adversity, this is the best route people can take, as it allows us to keep living instead of worrying about being fixed. Disturbing it may be, but repair was created by humans, so we have the ability to determine when it is needed, and when to bypass repair in order to remain true to ourselves.

Apology Unaccepted

Tragedy is brutal. When tragedy strikes, damage is done. Damage to this extent can be nearly impossible to repair, and all I receive is an “I’m sorry”. Really? I’m sorry, is that the best I can get? No, I’m sorry, but I refuse to accept your apology. Where is my payment? I need something tangible, something with actual value that has the potential to repair; I don’t need your words. I want to see action.

What happens now? We move on, that’s all you can do when an apology fails. If, and typically when, an apology is offered, there are two options: one, you forgive the apologizer and all is well, and two, you refuse to forgive the apologizer and then more damage is done than in the first place. I’ve been damaged and an apology has been offered, so everything should be back too normal, right? Wrong! Life does not work like that. It takes more than words to fix tragic damage. Apologies are feeble, apologies are weak. Apologies only work when the apologizer is sincere in their heart. Anything less will not suffice. A superficial apology only makes things worse. Superficial or fake apologies strike the wrong nerve with me. They achieve nothing. Spellman talks about how this proves true, as “one party’s offer of an apology is an attempt to repair the damage he inflicted on the other. He broke or weakened the connection between them, pulled hard at the fabric holding the larger community together, but the damage cannot be mended by his apology alone; without the forgiveness of the injured party, the relationship cannot be repaired” (85). Spellman explains that the apology must be accepted in order damage to be repaired. She talks about how the one receiving an apology is put in a tougher situation than the one doing the apologizing, as the receiver must make a decision. They cannot brush off the apology as if it is nothing, they must either accept or decline the apology. What makes it so challenging to accept an apology and move on is the fact that apologies do nothing. Let’s say a home is robbed and the robber not only damages the house but severely injures one of the family members living in the house. Now, if the robber then apologizes, should everything not be healed. Oh, he apologized, everyone forgive him. The robber said he is deeply sorry and meant no harm to the family or to anyone else. A problem here surfaces when the family or the family’s community refuses to accept the robber’s apology and forgive him. The robber has only offered words, not action. Actions speak louder than words. The robber needs to do more than offer a mere apology to fix the damage he conjured up. He needs to act. When actions pair up with words, then tangible, visible healing begins. The road to repair is still long and arduous, but signs of repair begin to surface as the road is being travelled.

E110 R1

“Though Willie has been working on Saabs, other vehicles, and farm machinery a good part of his life, he doesn’t expect any two cases to be alike”. Willie works on cases that could require the use of the same tools, but the reason behind why the tools are necessary always varies. The repair parts could change as well. The same could be said women, as if they do repair emotions and relationships, they have to understand the persons they choose to repair and mend. No two people are the same, so even if the women have the same mindset, the paths to rejuvenation can always differ from one another.

Throughout time, men have been raised to be tough, to not cry, because weak men cry. Strong, manly men do not cry as it would hurt their image. While this proves true, men do reveal their emotions more in our current era than they did even in the last century. The fact, however, is that men do have strong emotions, and they typically do not rely on other men to deal with those emotions. Men rip on each other when talking about emotions and relationships, which forces men to turn to women in order to have their emotional damage repaired. Like men, women must possess a mastery of their tools. Men master the physical tools, while women master emotions. It can be easily argued that the work men do varies, as even though the models of the cars, in Willie’s case, may be the same, no two pieces ever resemble one another perfectly. Willie must be a master of both the cars, and the pieces allowing the repair to be possible. The task at hand does not differ for women, only the pieces required to rejuvenate.

Just like cars, men are simple. The reason as to why men can connect and then repair cars is clear. The bond between man and car has been developed because the two are so alike. Through practice and time, one can learn cars inside out. The pieces do not change. Willie has needed his whole life to master the machines he repairs. People expect him to repair their machines. If he failed, they would be shocked. Men repair the physical because they master it. The physical world is not complex. Men fix the tangible because they can see and feel it. Their hands are extensions of their minds. Men’s minds work so that they can acquire the skills required to repair the physical objects: the cars, plumbing, carpentry, basic and complex machinery. If something needs fixing, people take it to men, not women. Men are built to repair. Being a rookie in the construction business myself, I observed firsthand the extent of the skills men possess and subsequently use in order to repair. I had no idea what I was doing or what tool I needed for what situation. My boss, however, set up detailed plans that laid out which tools would be necessary when and for what purpose those tools would be needed for. The experienced workers swapped the tools and pieces they used with such ease. It seemed as if they did not have to think, but they worked off reaction and gut instincts. As for women that worked while I did, well, actually, there were no women, proving again that women work with the intangible objects of repair, and men work with the physical world.

Women, they no do not understand cars like men. Instead, they understand people. When young kids cry, or feel sick or upset, they run to their moms. Children do this almost without thinking. They do so because women comfort them. Women understand the kids’ emotions, and can thus repair the damage. Women all use the same tools: compassion, caring, selflessness, to name a few. Women master their tools as they grow so that when called upon, they can reach into their toolbox and pick out the perfect piece needed for repair. No two people are identical, but women never cease to fix those in need. People who need repair flock to women because they know women will get the job done. No gimmicks, no flaws, women will repair what is necessary and then go further in order to rebuild the person’s damaged character. Women do this with ease. They work in the land of the intangible, and due to their mastery of it, they will continue to do until men step up and prove they are capable of the healing that women are.