When the woman in labour is your cousin: professional fairness and the ethics of care
Its coordinates: 3.3.1 Bioethics and Medical Ethics
Last month my cousin came in to our district hospital to deliver her second child. It was a busy night: four other women in labour, one of them in difficulty, and only two of us on the ward.
Everyone expected things of me. My aunt expected me to stay at my cousin's side. The women from her village who came with her expected me to bring her first to the doctor. My cousin herself just wanted my hand. And the woman in difficulty, whom I didn't know at all, needed me more than any of them.
I did what the ward rules say: I went to help with the woman with the complication. My cousin delivered safely with the midwife. But she hasn't quite forgiven me, and part of me hasn't forgiven myself.
I've been reading Nel Noddings, who says caring starts with "engrossment" in the particular person in front of you, and Virginia Held, who says care is a full moral theory and not just a supplement to justice. I find them beautiful and true to my work. But on that night, the hospital's rule, which is impartial on purpose, was the thing that protected the stranger, and I think it was right.
Is there a way of thinking about care that explains why I owed my cousin something real, and also why I was right to leave her? Or are these two separate moralities that just have to fight it out at four in the morning?