「尊嚴」的定義，是指「一個人不容侵犯的身分與地位，應受的尊重與合理的對待，亦即個體存在的價值與應有的重視。」

然而，當人老了、病了，尊嚴似乎就成了奢談。十多年前，我讀到樞機主教畢國璽自述，自己在彌撒中尿失禁，在看護面前大便失禁。他坦言：「這是天主開始治療我虛榮心的方式。」

那段時期，正逢我親眼目睹父親在昏迷數日後甦醒，卻也在護理人員面前失禁。那一幕，讓我對尊嚴產生難以抹去的警悟。

內心深處，不斷有「為自己定義尊嚴」的聲音。那幾年，我也正歷經創業失敗，在家人面前顏面無光。每當他們用輕蔑的眼神望向我，我更堅定守護尊嚴的決心。

但我很快意識到「有錢才有尊嚴」的說法是個陷阱，坦白說，我不喜歡有錢人趾高氣昂的樣子，更厭惡窮人在富人面前低聲下氣的窘態。

我從未與他人深談過自己對尊嚴的理解，連最親近的妻子也未曾傾訴，但我內心明白：尊嚴的重量超過了我的生命。

 

在手術房中看著全身赤裸的病人，在急診室中被迅速脫去衣物的患者，這些情境總是讓我難以承受，也無法容忍自己落入其中。

這也是我選擇不在醫療體系工作的原因之一，我不想成為那個環境的一部分。儘管醫療人員無意剝奪病患的尊嚴，尊嚴的喪失，卻是病人真實的感受。

病人的尊嚴理應與醫者無關，但當醫師展現傲慢時，那種不對等的尊嚴差距便無所遁形。

私密部位暴露事小，把屎把尿的無助才是真正的考驗。或許不是每個人都把這當成尊嚴的淪喪，但我相信，每個人都渴望守住那份最基本的隱私。

這樣的議題，終究得回到一個問題：如何與自己對話，並做出選擇？哪條路能讓尊嚴萬無一失？我一度迷失在神奇作物的自然療效中，直到我學會與自己的身體深度對話。

放下大腦的主導權，讓身體回歸本能，我才明白什麼叫「身體作主」；理解腸道的微觀生態，我終於了悟身體早已具備自癒與平衡的智慧。

 

疾病可以逆轉，尊嚴呢？當然也可以。但當尊嚴被踐踏時，我們可能找不到躲藏的角落，也可能找不到一塊遮蔽身體的布。

這種情境怎麼發生的？往往不知不覺，就在短視近利的選擇中，在唯利是圖的價值觀裡，在既得利益的舒適圈內，在對自己放任的那一刻。

我所見最普遍的人性潰堤，是被飢餓主宰的瞬間。而幕後的元兇，竟是我們驕傲的農業文明：大量種植的稻米與小麥。

這些主食造成身體劇烈的葡萄糖波動，進而擾亂情緒與食慾，讓人經歷那熟悉的一幕：身體不餓，嘴巴卻停不下來。

明知道是大腦在作祟，卻無法抵抗慰藉的衝動。

慰藉無所不在，只要面對食物，慰藉就會找上門，即使食物不在，腦門的記憶也有能力勾引強烈的慰藉。它潛入咀嚼的過程中，讓人在吞嚥後迎來一股強烈的罪惡感。

 

當身體意識甦醒，我們會開始反思這些「透過食物獲得滿足」的日常。看清滿足帶來的傷害遠大於好處，我們終於願意為自己按下「暫停鍵」。

更重要的是，當這種傷害延伸到尊嚴的淪喪時，停止，就成為一種迫切且深刻的養生行動。

其實，不必等到親身經歷尊嚴的考驗。只需觀察四周的個案，每一個案都可成為我們的鏡子。

尊嚴，是沉重的議題，也是極為務實的生命課題。「人必自重而後人重之」，當一個人需要看護協助日常起居時，往往已錯過了「自重」這門課的修煉。

課堂上，我常提到台灣平均八年的臥床數據，別說八年，光是八個月的臥床，就足以成為警鐘長鳴。而這一切，可能只是從一顆止痛藥、或一夜不眠的放縱開始。

常聽見「我就是懶」的自嘲，也常聽到「以後再說」的逃避。人人都有懶散的時候，也都有對未來的幻想，但我們更該思考的是：懶與尊嚴之間的關係，以及以後與尊嚴的距離。

 

慰藉總是勝過尊嚴，這並不是悲觀的結論，而是我長年觀察的人性總結。

眼界短淺是人的通病，不應是你我的常規。

尊嚴，從來不是未來的事，它是今天的事，是我們此刻生命中就該擁有的價值。就如同買保險，是為了保障，而不是為了理賠。

從結果倒推，先看見那個失去尊嚴的自己，我們會下定決心行動。

去做那些我們不會做、也不敢做，但必須做的事。

守護尊嚴，不能等待。

 

（當涉及到人的尊嚴時，我們不能妥協。）

 

Why Comfort Prevails Over Dignity

“Dignity” is defined as the inviolable status and worth of a person—deserving of respect, fair treatment, and recognition of their intrinsic value.

Yet, when one grows old or falls ill, dignity often becomes a luxury. Over a decade ago, I read a personal account by Cardinal Paul Shan Kuo-Hsi, who recounted experiencing urinary incontinence during Mass and defecating in front of a caregiver. He admitted, “This was how God began healing my vanity.”

At the same time, I witnessed my father awaken from several days of coma, only to suffer incontinence before the nursing staff. That moment etched in me a deep and irreversible awareness of what dignity meant.

A voice within me kept urging: define dignity for yourself. During those years, I was also enduring the shame of a failed business venture, facing my family with nothing but disgrace. Every time I saw their contemptuous glances, my resolve to preserve my dignity grew stronger.

But I soon realized the phrase “only the wealthy have dignity” is a trap. Frankly, I disliked the arrogance of the rich even more than the humiliating subservience of the poor in front of them.

I have never truly spoken to anyone about my understanding of dignity—not even my late wife. But in my heart, I knew: dignity weighed more than life itself.

Watching patients stripped naked in the operating room or swiftly disrobed in emergency wards—these scenes were unbearable. I couldn’t imagine being in their place. That’s one reason I chose not to work in the medical system—I didn’t want to be part of that environment. While healthcare workers rarely intend to strip patients of their dignity, the loss is deeply felt by the patients themselves.

A patient’s dignity should have nothing to do with the doctor. But when doctors display arrogance, the unequal divide in dignity becomes glaringly evident.

Exposure of private parts is trivial compared to the helplessness of losing control over bodily functions. Not everyone sees this as a loss of dignity, but I believe everyone longs to protect their most basic privacy.

Ultimately, the issue circles back to a single question: how do we converse with ourselves and make a choice? Which path can truly safeguard our dignity?

For a time, I got lost in the miraculous effects of certain natural remedies, until I learned to deeply dialogue with my body. Only by letting go of the brain’s dominance and returning to instinct did I begin to understand what it meant for the body to take charge. Through understanding the gut’s microscopic ecology, I finally saw that the body already possesses the wisdom to heal and balance itself.

Illness can be reversed—so can dignity. But when dignity is trampled upon, there might be no place to hide, no cloth to cover your body.

How does this happen? Often unconsciously—through short-sighted choices, self-serving values, the comfort zone of entitlement, or moments when we stop holding ourselves accountable.

The most common collapse of human dignity I’ve witnessed occurs in the moment we are ruled by hunger. And the real culprit? Our proud agricultural civilization—mass-produced rice and wheat.

These staples cause dramatic blood sugar spikes, disrupting emotions and appetite. We’ve all been there: not hungry, but unable to stop eating.

We know it’s our brain playing tricks, yet still succumb to the impulse of comfort.

Comfort is everywhere. The mere sight of food brings it, and even in food’s absence, memory alone can summon its power. Comfort sneaks into every bite and leaves behind a wave of guilt.

When bodily awareness awakens, we begin to reflect on this daily ritual of seeking satisfaction through food. Once we clearly see that the harm outweighs the comfort, we finally press “pause” for our own sake.

More importantly, when this harm extends to the erosion of dignity, stopping becomes a deeply urgent act of self-care.

We don’t have to experience the loss of dignity firsthand to understand it. Just observe those around us—every case can be a mirror.

Dignity is a heavy topic, but also a deeply practical life lesson. “One must first respect oneself before others will respect them.” And when one needs assistance with daily living, it often means the opportunity to learn self-respect has already passed.

In class, I often mention the average of eight bedridden years in Taiwan. But even eight months of being confined to bed should be a deafening alarm. And often, it all begins with something small—a single painkiller or a sleepless night of indulgence.

I’ve often heard people joke, “I’m just lazy,” or delay with “I’ll deal with it later.” Laziness is common. So is dreaming of a better future. But what we really need to consider is the relationship between laziness and dignity—and how far “later” truly is from dignity.

Comfort always seems to win over dignity. This is not a pessimistic conclusion, but a candid reflection on human nature.

Short-sightedness is a universal flaw—it should not be our personal norm.

Dignity has never been a future matter. It is a present one. A value we must own here and now. Like buying insurance—not for the payout, but for the protection.

Look at your future self—the one who has lost dignity—and reverse engineer your actions. Let that image drive you.

Do the things you wouldn’t normally do, might not dare to do, but must do.

To guard dignity, we cannot wait.