Advance warning - the following contains themes of cancer and death.
Welcome to this weeks edition of Tuesday’s Rule.
It’s the final book in the 3-week mini-series on books I’ve been re-reading.
When Breath Becomes Air is the most impactful book I’ve ever read.
Paul Kalanithi spent over a decade training to be a neurosurgeon before being diagnosed with metastatic cancer. He passed away aged 37.
This book is his memoir.
After spending his whole life working toward achieving his goal, just as he was in touching distance, his life was taken in the most tragic of ways.
The book describes his journey to qualifying as a neurosurgeon, a gruelling decade-long commitment of long working days and intense study. From there, it describes his battle with cancer, a 2-year journey through pain and emotion, which he faced with unwavering dignity.
Paul doesn’t finish the book. But his wife, Lucy, picks up where Paul finishes with a wickedly powerful epilogue that would leave even the most emotionless dazed and crushed.
There’s a curious psychology in reading sad books, as I wrote about back in 2022. Re-reading When Breath Becomes Air a few years after originally reading it was no less difficult, and no less impactful.
Today’s post is a recommendation to read the book - not just for the emotion it exposes, but also for the beauty of Paul’s writing.
Below are the three main themes I took from it this time around.
Comprehension of Death
Paul spent his whole adult life battling with death.
Firstly, with his patients, and then his own.
As a specialist in head injury and illness, his patients included victims of severe accidents to those with brain tumours and various cancers. He and his team saved many lives but inevitably lost many.
As both a surgeon and a source of comfort to his patients, Paul saw all sides of death. The sudden, devastating impact of car accidents, to the slow, tragic march towards inevitability for terminal cancer patients.
Sudden or drawn-out, anticipated or shocking, Paul had seen all kinds. But it wasn’t enough for him to have worked it out.
“I was searching for a vocabulary with which to make sense of death, to find a way to begin defining myself and moving forward again.”
‘Memento Mori’ is a well-known Stoic mantra. It simply means “remember your will die”.
Those who believe in reminding themselves of their mortality express the power of creating priorities and meaning.
According to the Daily Stoic: "Death doesn’t make life pointless but rather purposeful. And fortunately, we don’t have to nearly die to tap into this. A simple reminder can bring us closer to living the life we want."
This is all true.
But it is also seemingly true that one can never truly comprehend the reality of their own death.
“I began to realize that coming in such close contact with my own mortality had changed both everything and nothing. Before my cancer was diagnosed, I knew that someday I would die, but I didn’t know when. After the diagnosis, I knew I would die, I just didn’t know when. But now I knew it acutely. The problem wasn’t a scientific one. The fact of death is unsettling. But there is no other way to live”.
The Curiosity of Legacy
Paul had a great passion for writing. His vision for his career was to spend 20 years as a neurosurgeon and then 20 years as a writer.
He achieved his goal of becoming a writer with a book that became a New York Times bestseller, selling over a million copies worldwide.
But it all happened after his death. The sales of the books, the acclaim, and the impact he had on all his readers. He wasn’t here to see it.
Even his career as a surgeon was about building toward something that would never bear fruit.
“Life had been building potential that would no longer be realised”
How should that make us feel about our own work and our own legacy?
I was thinking about this much of the way through the book. He’s created something that should have brought him so much pride that he never felt. So much respect that he never received.
But then, perhaps that is what legacy is?
In the epilogue, Paul’s wife describes the daughter that Paul left behind. Her trips with friends and family to where Paul was buried, the joy that brought her.
That felt like the most important legacy he could have left.
On the topic of legacy, I’m left with more questions than answers. But it is clear that the true essence of legacy lies not in accolades but in the lasting impact we have on the lives of those we cherish.
So Much Goes Unsaid
Paul's memoir is bookended with a foreword from Abraham Vergese and the aforementioned epilogue from his widow, Lucy.
As you can imagine, these pages are filled with love and praise for Paul’s character, him as a father, and for his writing.
Reading both, I thought, "man, I hope he knew people felt this way whilst he was alive". Reading the epilogue, it is clear how important this was to Lucy, but its significance still rings true to me.
You also get the impression that no one read Paul's words before he passed.
He talks about the impact his illness had on his wife and his family in a way that almost portrays guilt.
"She was upset because I'd given her one life and promised her another".
This is my most meaningful takeaway. It is so easy to think of things and not say them. It is easy to assume that people know how you feel about them, so do not feel the need to tell them.
It is clear lots was said in Paul's final days and weeks when things were becoming inevitable. Feelings were exchanged in the rawest way possible. He knew that Lucy was there with him. One of the most beautiful lines in the book comes in her epilogue:
I asked him, “can you breathe okay with my head on your chest like this?” His answer was “it’s the only way I know how to breathe”.
I'm sure it didn't take the situation for these feelings to be felt. But perhaps it did take the situation for those feelings to be verbalised.
If there's one lasting message we should take from When Breath Becomes Air, it's to not let things stay unsaid. To not let a change in circumstance be the catalyst for making sure our loved ones know how we feel.
When Breath Becomes Air is without doubt a wrenching read. But it is also a beautiful one. It highlights the importance of relationships and how life is completed by love. It’s a story about death and a guide on how to live…
Be ready. Be seated. See what courage sounds like. See how brave it is to reveal yourself in this way. But above all, see what it is to still live, to profoundly influence the lives of others after you are gone, by your words. (from Abraham Vergese foreword)
Thanks for reading, see you next week.