A Better MCF

I started writing a long response to Rey's genetic engineering post, when I realized I had the basis for a post of my own. He discussed genetic engineering, the pros and cons of manipulating who our children will be before they're born, and the medical and ethical risks that might entail. I think it's matter of defining the boundaries of what we should change when we find we can change things preemptively.

I've been a neurotic bundle of wishes throughout my life, although I've settled and accepted a lot in the last decade. There was a time when wanting certain things or wanting to be a different person kept me up at night. I wished I was taller, thinner, more athletic and logically, more popular. Throughout public school, Catholic high school, and college, I was always surrounded by superkids. I was in the “smart” classes, yet my classmates also played sports. I was in the band, yet other musicians also sang in the choir and acted in plays. I struggled to get my homework done each night, often taking three hours or more to get it all done. I couldn't understand how the other kids handled the same assignments and multiple extracurricular activities. My folks would occasionally remind me that all I did was play in the band whenever I'd complain about having too much to do.

The strange thing about me--ok, one of the strange things about me--is my pendulum nature of extremes. I've settled into a much tighter arc as an adult, but most especially during my school years I'd either think I was the worst or think I was the best. Mostly, I struggled with low self-esteem and wallowed in self-pity, but if I got a taste, just a taste of things going right, of being good at something, it went right to my head and I became an egomaniac. It never lasted long before someone knocked me right back down again, sometimes literally, but it took me a while to master the art of quiet self-satisfaction. Knowing that now about myself, I wonder how different a genetically “perfect” MCF would be. I'd have had a lot more friends, but would they be quality friends? I'd be good at everything, but would I be a good person? Would I have compassion for the outcasts, or would I be one of the one keeping them down? If I was bred to be taller, thinner, faster, and good looking, I would have turned out to be a real jerk.

How much control do any of us have over our own fates? I'm not simply talking about my belief that God has an ultimate plan for us all, but the simple ripple nature of cause, effect, and probability. Life is like that highly addictive game Boomshine. Yes, we can click and be proactive, setting a chain of events in motion. But we're individuals in a sea of individuals, all clicking and setting events in motion. Our actions influence those of others, and are influenced by others. We can speculate and make educated guesses with reasonable accuracy, but we do not possess the ability to predict any outcome 100%. This ties in nicely to a point Rey's brother Testpig brought up. When we alter genetic code to fix one problem, how do we know it won't cause or create something brand new?

The dilemma here is the nature of defects. There are cosmetic things which have an impact on how we interact with one another in society. “He's too fat.” “She's too flat.” “What the heck is that?” In these instances the problem lies not with otherwise healthy individuals, but with how we see each other and how others see us. But what of actual defects, problems that could become life-threatening? When I recovered from abdominal surgery to remove my birth defect, my surgeon informed me that he took out my appendix “while they were in there”(sorry B13; hope you're not reading this at lunch again). I've had varying reactions when sharing this story, from understanding nods to shock and disapproval. Honestly, I was relieved when he told me I had one less thing in me that could go wrong. Why go through another abdominal surgery later in life if it could be avoided? But by that same logic, what if surgery could have been avoided entirely before I was even formed? Wouldn't it be better if I'd been born without that defect, or an appendix, or even my wisdom teeth? There would have been a lot less blood and missed days. I hope I never need surgery to remove a dime-sized mole on my back, but I worry about it from time to time. Doctors have always said it wasn't cancerous, but that it wouldn't be a bad idea to remove it and avoid cancer down the road. Wouldn't it be better if I never had it to begin with?

I've been a victim of many things in my life, but more importantly I've been a survivor(a ”survictim”). I can't change who I am or what I've been through, nor do I want to. The blessings outweigh the curses, even when they're outnumbered. I wouldn't change the bad things in my past at the risk of losing any of the good ones. All that remains then is the future. Would I spare my own children any of the things I went through? As Rey pointed out in his post, “if you love your kid, would you want him to have the same issues so that you can bond?” I could help a little geek, let him know that things get better, let him know that some of the things he's self-conscious about are actually assets, and he shouldn't listen to kids that might just be jealous. But if I altered the child before birth, engineered a little jock, not only would we have nothing in common, I'd risk my own son trapping me in a locker. That wouldn't be good for anybody. Even without genetic tampering, there's know way of knowing how my son or daughter will turn out. I might have a jock or a cheerleader anyway, in which case I'd better hope their mother has more experience in those social circles. As for the medical ordeals, while I personally think I'm better for the experience, I wouldn't wish that pain on anyone, especially my offspring. If they could be spared as early as possible, so be it. If the consequences are too great though, the best I can hope for is my own experience will allow me to encourage them to go to the doctor sooner, and that I can remove some of the fear of the unknown through my own experience.

Experience is important. Before my operation, I found a nurse who said she'd been through surgery, and told me what to expect. It was reassuring to know someone else had gone under a knife, that it would hurt when I regained consciousness but that it would get better. I don't know if removing experience is such a good thing, especially for future generations. There is no better MCF than the one my experiences have engineered. If there was, he'd be someone else entirely, and you probably wouldn't have anything to read right now.