A few months ago I had the 2-Year anniversary of the first of two surgeries that were part of my Proctocolectomy with Restorative J Pouch operation. Right around my 25th birthday actually. It was a concoction of reminiscent ponderings and reveries that kept me preoccupied for a solid 48 hours. As I get older I realize that surgeries aren't uncommon. People break bones and have faulty organs. People go through some shit. I think for me, if the surgery was a one off thing, or the result of some localized issue that affected me for a year or two, it wouldn't have been so impactful. But instead, the surgeries were a culmination of a decade long struggle. They were supposed to be the final obstacle to overcome. They were supposed to fix the problem. And despite the life-long impacts that would accompany the surgery, they paled in comparison to the costs of not doing it.
I'm on the recipient list for the InflammatoryBowelDisease.net emails and a few days before that anniversary they sent me this: "A Letter to My Pre-Surgery Self." In the letter, a female patient talks about the struggles she faced, the things she missed out on and the optimism for a new life. She writes the letter to herself in retrospective fashion, wishing she could have calmed her mind and given herself more clarity prior to the surgery, perhaps more confidence. I can relate to some of that.
I didn't write a letter to myself the night before my surgery. But I did write two letters, one to my ex girlfriend and the other to my Mom. At 5 AM, just before I scrubbed myself down with pre-surgery cleaning wipes, I put the letter to Sam in the mail. I gave the other to my Mom 5 minutes before the doctors sedated me and I remember her trying to reject the letter as if it were my final words. Although it could have been and I'm grateful they weren't, my intention was for her to read my words as I closed a very long chapter on my life. In a way, I hoped they were final words with respect to that chapter.
In those letters I was honest, perhaps more honest than I had been in a long time. I talked about things I'd done wrong in my relationships. I talked about how intolerable I could be at times. How I would project my suffering onto others in the form of anger. Although I don't think I was ever this way for a sustained period of time, I could be that way in spurts, but I was always apologetic. I spoke to those two individuals about how I would pull back from life and make others solve my problems for me. Especially with my Mom, there were times when I abused her kindness and relied on her and my Dad too much. Although I took control of my life in the end, there would be times where I would recede into darkness and nihilism and they would have to pull me back out. I talked about how I wouldn't allow people in, who cared about me and just wanted to help or understand. Particularly my friends and my brothers. Most of that was Pride. To the outside world I always tried to maintain the external appearance of being fine. No weakness, to anyone, ever. I realize now I missed out on a lot of upside from relationships with others that might have helped me through those times. Ultimately, I talked about how I was grateful for those individuals in my life and what they meant to me. People don't always stand by your side when you're suffering. Especially if that suffering lasts years. Although Sam left and missed out on some of the hardest years of that long decade, I am grateful to her for being there during some very trying times. My Mom has been with me since the beginning obviously in a literal sense, but from a practical stance, I owe nothing more to anyone on Earth than I do to her. No mother should have to care for their adult child. It's cruel and heartbreaking. But she did it anyway. I talked about how it's rare in life to have unwavering support. I asked for forgiveness and I detailed my love.
If I could write a letter to my Pre-Surgery Self I don't think I would. The optimism that this patient spoke of in her letter became founded in reality after her surgery. For me, although things are better now, reality turned out to be much different and much harder, as life usually is. The three months I spent in between my first and second surgeries were some of the hardest months of my life. And the following 2 years since then have been extremely trying. Ultimately, I don't see the point in writing to a "younger me" and telling him it will be harder than he thinks or lying and saying it'll be all better after it's over.
I would however, say a few words as my current Post-Surgery self to anyone contemplating the heavy decision, to salvage what life they have left with a surgery like what I've done. Of course research the use-cases for circumstances like your own, and take a personalized approach to what options you have remaining, what you've already sacrificed, and what you have left to salvage. But in a more general sense, ask yourself what you're willing to live with. This is the question that provides the answer to the essential dilemma. Because life can sometimes be a a lesser-of-two-evils discussion. Ask yourself what you're willing to put up with. And ask yourself, if either path is taken, what does life look like at the upper extreme of good fortune and at the lower extreme of good fortune. Which ever extremes you're willing to live with determines which decision you should make. As is the case with most things, life generally falls into the grey zone, the middle ground, not at an extreme. But if you're going to truly understand what could be in store for you and come to terms with it, you have to consider the two extremes, especially the lower end. This doesn't mean giving up hope, it just means coming to terms with a potential reality. If that reality materializes, you'll be prepared. If it doesn't, you'll be grateful and happy. Either way, you cannot lose.
In summary, there's not much left to talk about. The past is the past. My line of thinking says there's no utility in dwelling on it, or contemplating what you would have told yourself, or living with regrets. Life happens. Move on, accept it, and make the best of it. Live with 0 regrets. Understand your mistakes and fix them. Tell people you love them and you're grateful to them. Tell them you'll be a better version tomorrow. And do it. Come to terms with life, your own life, and find the reasons to continue. Understand your history and yourself. Use it to be better for everyone around you. That's my advice, from my pre-surgery, post-surgery, or no-surgery self.
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