The Bright Side of Surgery

published 4/12/2007 in the youngblood section of the philippine daily inquirer

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For the second time in my short life, I have to undergo surgery. Thinking about it depresses me greatly. So in the spirit of optimism, I'm trying to figure out if there is a bright side to surgery.

My doctor calls the procedure a "radical neck dissection". They'll be making a cut starting from below my left ear curving down to the base of my neck then back up to the other ear. Then they'll lift the skin off my neck and then remove bad lymph nodes they come across.

It occurs to me that the procedure makes me sound like a biology class experiment. I would be like that poor unsuspecting frog we plucked out from his happy corner of the marsh back in high school, for the education of future doctors and surgeons. That experiment had been an eye opening experience for me. It convinced me once and for all that I would never be a surgeon. Me wonders now how my surgeon did with his frog. I pray to God he did well.

To cheer me up, I try convincing myself that the procedure would be simple and straight forward. But when I first talked to my surgeon, he said the procedure would actually take twice as long (about 4 hours) and be more extensive than my first surgery. The word that caught my attention was "extensive". I never realized how an ordinary word can sound so scary. And 4 hours is long! The chances of things happening... I am totally screwed...

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After coming back to my surgeon for final scheduling, I received a nice shock about the risks involved. I had heard that as a side effect, the skin around my neck will lose sensation, maybe even for the rest of my life. When I asked if this was true, he said that was "part and parcel" of the procedure because some nerves were going to be severed when they lift the skin off my neck.

That was already bad enough by itself, really, but when I asked if there were other risks involved, he said that there was also the possibility during the operation (though uncommon) that the nerve allowing me to move my shoulders would also be severed. That hit me. What am i getting myself into? If the numbness was bad, this is a lot worse.

Am I scared? No, I'm not scared. Terrified? No, not terrified. Terrified can only describe half of how it feels (uhh... terrified x 2?). But f*ck it, I have no other choice. My only 2 options right now are a.) go through with the surgery and accept the risks or b.) not go through the surgery and face the possibility of me getting worse.

My mother has been telling me to take "herbal" supplements in the hope that it would act as cure. But let's face it, we really can't put our faith on those, especially when they start claiming that they can cure all deadly diseases known to man. That is clearly bullshit, money making schemes cleverly designed to hold our faith, give us hope, and take us for a ride, even if that ride is taking us straight to hell. Trusting solely on them is gambling with your health. I am not a gambler by nature. So it'll be the surgery then.

Then I asked if there were any more possible complications. My surgeon gave me a curious smile, and said no. I have this stinking feeling that he's hiding something. Maybe he just didn't think it wise to tell me lest I get too worried and call it off. Or maybe i'm just being paranoid.

As I sat there listening to my surgeon explain things, I wasn't even sure if I was hearing everything correctly. Part of me wanted to shout, to curse the world and to trash my surgeon's clinic. But another was slowly tugging me to a more passive yet highly curious state. I wondered what it would be like to shave with the numbness on my neck (No more sting when putting on aftershave! Yehey!). Or how to wear my backpack if I no longer have full control of my shoulders. Would that affect my game in basketball or pingpong? It's a defense mechanism, I think, a mental anaesthetic to numb our feelings lest the pain cause us to lose our sanity.

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Times like these make me evaluate the status of my faith, or can I really call it faith? I'm not even sure if I actually believe in what I say, so much more the Object of my faith. And now that my circumstances prevail upon me to call out and reignite my faith, I'm not even sure if it is right to do so.

You see, my motivations are suspect. Is it right to believe for the sake of my own sanity instead of believing purely for the sake of believing? Is it right to believe because it feels good to believe instead of believing because you are convinced of its truth? Is it right to believe simply because you fear the possible consequences of not believing, a.k.a. hell?

But that's what makes faith such a tricky thing. By its own Bible definition, faith, being "the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen", has an element of irrationality to it. You can believe (or say you believe) in something and either be considered a saint (if they agree with you) or a lunatic (if they disagree with you). Hmmm... saints & lunatics... same thing really.

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I've successfully kept the surgery a secret for some time now. And so far, only very few people know of it. After hearing of my 2 week leave of absence from work, officemates have been wondering where I would be going all that time. Speculations range from the benign ("You're going on vacation? Bring us pasalubong ha!") to the imprudent ("You're resigning? When's the despedida?") to the ridiculous yet highly imaginative ("You're getting married? Where will you be spending your honeymoon?"). Truly, man's imagination knows no bounds.

Upon hearing the truth, the default and inevitable follow up question is "Why?". But I hate answering all the questions, which usually leads to even more questions, so on and so forth, like I was some specimen under a microscope for analysis.

And there's always the chance that people will be looking at me differently, like I'm some side show freak; that the scar on my neck will become part of their definition of who I am.

But now that I think about it, what's the use keeping it secret? Assuming I do come out of it alive, people will eventually notice the scar anyway. I can't hide it forever. And I can't hide from it forever.

That's why, amidst the depression, fear, paranoia, doubt, and confusion, I need to find out if there really is a bright side to surgery, the proverbial silver lining in every cloud. Or if there is even a higher purpose to all this, real or imagined. I need to find a way to get through it with myself still intact. So far, I'm still figuring it out.

my first post for the year

not until 2 weeks after the fact did it really sink in: "holy crap, it's already 2007". and then the anxiety.

a sudden urge for iced green tea had sent me scampering to the neighborhood convenience store. after paying for a bottle, i took the first available seat in sight, opened the bottle and started sipping. one by one, cars stop by to refuel at the gasoline station outside as i ruminated over my drink. then the kids came.

there were 3 of them, 2 boys and a girl. they came into the store running and laughing, like everything was alright in the world. they played catch in between the shelves, got scolded for playing catch between the shelves, then picked some popsicles from the freezer and paid for them at the counter. then they went out of the store, still running and laughing like everything was alright in the world.

i watched their antics not without a bit of envy. i used to be like that, i thought. whatever happened to me? oh, right. i had to "grow up". oh, how far i have fallen. then it occurs to me: "holy crap, it's already 2007. yet i'm still wishing it were 1997".

friends seem to share the same anxiety. from our calculations, in a little over 5 years we'd be 30. and when you hit 30, a lot of things change. and even worse, when you're 30, you no longer have any excuse to even pretend to being a kid.

i finished my drink, got up, and went back home thinking: why would i wish to go back to being a kid again? is life really that bad? is at all really downhill from here?

i'm not going to advertise my troubles here again. we already have enough our own. and i don't think you'd need to know a litany of my own troubles just to confirm how shitty the world really is. you should already know that, unless you're a clam who's never gotten out of your shell.

and apart from our own troubles come society's demands. for every passing year, people tend to put more expectations on you; that you should be making this much money, that you should own the latest stuff, that you should be married already, or at least have a stable relationship, blablablablabla.

it sucks.

but as i remembered my friends' similar anxieties over the unassailable march of time, i felt a little better. just knowing they feel the same way at least confirms that i'm not alone in this.

just like that song from the musical avenue q that goes, "on avenue q, it sucks to be me, on avenue q, it sucks to be you, on avenue q, it sucks to be us, but not when we're together". i couldn't have put it better myself.

cheers to a better year.