I’m a New Person

This is an archived post that was originally published at beyond-terminal.com

In this post, you’re going to learn that I actually went ahead and got an endoscopic thoracic sympathectomy, the surgical procedure I swore I never would consider because of all the potential complications.

Thank goodness the procedure was a success. As happy as I was about this, I had quit grad school before the procedure was done and now had to reinvent myself…once again. I decided to look for a job. With dry hands, I finally felt like I could forge a successful career.

Those discerning readers will realize that, while I had tackled one important barrier, I continued to avoid a couple of critical components – that damning inner narrative and all of those flashbacks.

__________  

In this passage, I’ve just finished a semester of grad school. Not surprisingly, I encounter many of the same challenges that I did when I was at Northwestern University.

I lasted a semester before I uttered a word that hadn’t been part of my vocabulary since getting sick as a child at the age of 11. “Enough,” I said. “Enough.”

I quit graduate school and moved back to Minnesota to reevaluate once again.

I was done living this way, and I vowed to myself that I was going to do something about it. What was I going to do? I was scheduled for an endoscopic thoracic sympathectomy, the surgical procedure that I swore I never would consider, not on your life.

But I was desperate. I couldn’t have pens sliding out of my hand when I was trying to write, not if I expected myself to hold down a respectable job and be independent. 

So, in a twist of fate, I was back at the Los Angeles airport, flying into the exact same place I would have been if I were still attending school. But this time my mom and I were only here for a three-day stay so I could get the surgical procedure done.

I knew where we were going. I had the commonsense to do the research this time. So I knew that we would pass by the LA hospital, since the procedure I was having wasn’t mainstream enough to be done at a hospital. 

I grappled with my mixed emotions. I had told myself that I never would set foot in a hospital for the rest of my life unless I was on the verge of dying, yet I also had to acknowledge to myself that procedures done at hospitals seemed more legitimate and that maybe, just maybe, I wouldn’t feel as anxious if we were headed to the building that was now behind us.

“Where is this place?” My mom dragged her fingers through her hair.  

I didn’t respond. Anything I said wouldn’t give my mom comfort, for I knew that we were headed to a small, two-story clinic that was across the street from a run-down strip mall.

To ease my anxiety, I started repeating to myself the patient testimonials that I had read online. My life has been changed forever as a result of this procedure. I now can do anything I want. I feel like a new person.

Before being administered anesthesia, I pictured in my mind my spine with all of its spiky knobs jutting out. I pictured all of the little round discs between my vertebrae. And I pictured all the nerves branching out from my spine. I focused specifically on my nerve tissue at the T3 vertebral level along the main sympathetic chain. This is the one that needed to be severed. Very carefully.

It was a mere forty-five minutes later when I felt my mom’s hand on my shoulder, and I was stirred awake.

“How are you?” 

I sensed her scrutinizing my face. “Do I have a droopy eye?” 

“Thank God, no,” my mom replied before embracing my hands in hers. “And your hands? How are your hands?”

I rubbed my hands against each other. They were dry. Completely dry. I am a new person.

__________  

At this point in my life, I really thought I was in the clear, that I truly could put the past in the past.

Have you ever been at a similar crossroads where you felt as though you’ve done the work you needed to do to “get over” a traumatic situation?

I have friends who have been through divorces and, when the last paperwork is signed, they feel like finally – finally – they’re done. But then these friends and their ex-spouses will need to communicate about one of their children, there will be an argument, and the past is dragged back into the present.

I also have friends who are therapists who have lived through traumatic experiences and have been placed in a position where they need to counsel clients who have lived through similar experiences. Needless to say, these friends of mine are triggered at the same time they’re offering help to their clients.

How do you get through these difficult moments? It’s by giving voice to them. By saying this happened, and it was really hard.

You do not need to bottle up these experiences and hold on to them. I thought I was brave for toughening out everything and keeping it to myself. It turns out that it took way more bravery to learn to be vulnerable and share what was locked up.