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Nitzan Rotenberg
University Writing
21 September 2017
Formal Draft
In his essay “A General Feeling of Disorder,” Oliver Sacks, a physician and a writer,
speaks from both the perspectives of a doctor and a patient, as someone who comprehends
scientific minutia and had patients with migraines and as someone who undergoes palliative
treatment for terminal liver cancer. Sacks establishes the expectation that these illnesses will only
have negative impacts upon a person’s life since the pain can be so severe that “death would be
preferable” (2). But he soon subverts that very expectation, as he describes the magnitude of the
euphoria and energy one can experience following such episodes of illness. Sacks ultimately
seeks to elucidate the relationship between our subjective experiences and our physical states.
As a physician, he recounts his experiences with patients and cites the self-descriptions of
others with migraines—individuals who indefinably but undeniably feel “‘something amiss,’”
Reymond then provides typical symptoms of a migraine, which can range from a slight pain in
the temple and a pale countenance to intense and death-inducing pains. Sacks quotes these
descriptions, not only because they are beautiful and precise, but because all migraines are
“permutations of [du Bois-Reymond’s]” (2). After presenting what he believes are the best
descriptions in the scientific field, Sacks immediately undercuts those same descriptions and
presents examples of individuals feeling “‘dangerously well’” (2) before or after a migraine,
examples that do not fit neatly or even at all into du Bois-Reymond’s descriptions.
This trend continues as Sacks moves into a much more personal discussion with his own
bout with cancer. In the aftermath of the embolization of the liver, his palliative treatment, he
experiences a similar general feeling of disorder except the displeasure is “raised to an almost
infinite degree” (3). The overaccumulation of fluids in his body causes his body parts to swell up
so much that they become unrecognizable, he becomes delirious, and he would be “hot one
minute, cold the next” (3). In short, he is on the verge of dying. Yet by the afternoon of the tenth
day, he has transformed into an entirely new person, “full of physical and creative energy” (4).
Sacks begins by introducing, defining, and describing what he calls general feelings of
disorder, setting up the expectation that the text will be constrained to those same descriptions.
However, he concludes each illness with some positive consequences that an individual has
illnesses not only describe how one feels but also can tell us who we are.
In fact, for some, these illnesses have somehow situated themselves into a central part of
their hosts’ identity. Sacks provides the example of one of his patients, a mathematician, who, in
the resolution of a migraine, experiences “a burst of original mathematical thinking” (2) and
“creativity” (2). This surge in the power of the brain has become so important to him that he is
willing to disregard the physical discomfort and decides to keep both the migraine and its
resolution. Ironically, his physical sickness has become his mental cure. The two are no longer
In addition to specific individual examples, the overall pattern of the text supports the
claim that sickness informs our identity. The beginning of the text establishes a clear dichotomy
between thinking and feeling: the central nervous system “tells one who one is” (1) but the
autonomic nervous system “tells one how one is” (1). Yet the fact that they are both body
systems that can influence one another indicates that, at the very least, who one is and how one is
are interrelated. Ralph Waldo Emerson also implicitly reinforces that dichotomy when he states,
“‘I have lost my mental faculties but am perfectly well’” (1) after he developed Alzheimer’s.
However, the division between thinking and feeling becomes blurrier as the examples
become increasingly personal. When Sacks refers to his recovery, he is unsure how much of it to
attribute to a natural “reestablishment of balance in the body,” “an autonomic rebound,” “other
physiological factors,” or simply “the sheer joy of writing” (3). By placing various physiological
factors, a type of feeling, in the same list as the joy of writing, a type of thinking that is central to
Sacks’ identity, as the causes for his recovery, he suggests that both how one thinks can be just
His personal examples of illness culminate in lessons for our species as a whole. He
concludes his essay with an excerpt from Nietzsche’s The Gay Science: “Gratitude pours forth
tomorrow” (4). By invoking a philosopher like Nietzsche in the very last paragraph, Sacks
advocates that his personal anecdote should not be remembered as a singular example but as
having philosophical importance for humankind at large. Feeling and thinking are
interconnected, as both the unexpected convalesce creates a reawakened faith in the future and
such a trust in what lies ahead paves the mental conditions for a physical recovery.
Nietzsche forwards that suffering is inevitable, and only by overcoming such suffering can we
satisfy our innate desire to expand our own power. Similarly, illness is inevitable, as we are
bound to eventually get sick. But instead of accepting illness as an unfortunate event that we
have to endure, Sacks asks us to actively reconceptualize illness as an opportunity to feel even
better and stronger than before after the illness has passed. Essentially, illness and wellness are