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"Recently I had surgery on my lipomas (tumors, Dercums). This is a recurring problem, and I usually get them cut out every two to three years when they start to press on nerves or shut off the blood flow in my arms or chest. This time I had waited six years, and scheduled with a friend who's a surgeon in Mexico City. I like talking with surgeons because it opens my mind to what's really happening in my body. My semi-hysterical wife, scared about the fact that I have frequent surgeries, and my in-laws, who are frightened that their precious daughter will be a widow soon, all accompanied me. Normally I would go to the doctor's office alone, a sort of personal journey before the procedure, but they insisted on coming. The office was small, and after a little friendly banter, we started in. The first one popped out no problem, a round and normal lipoma. There were about fifty places marked on my body to be cut that night so I knew I'd be there for a while. The second was a fibroid tumor as well as the third, and we were joking and laughing as the procedure progressed. I was singing a song in Spanish, with the title changed from Besa Me Mucho (Kiss Me a Lot), to Corta Me Mucho (Cut Me a Lot), when we notice one suture bulging badly. As luck would have it, I had sent my wife and her family away to eat dinner at a nearby restaurant, since the operation would take hours. The doctor and I were alone, and had been joking back and fourth for some time, mostly doctor jokes, accompanied by some playful banter about the intelligence of poking fun at someone holding a scalpel. Shortly, the doctor realized that a major vein had been damaged during an extraction; due to the way the tumor had grown into it. I started losing blood rapidly, yet I did not feel panic nor fear. We rushed off to the main hospital, all the way making more jokes about how maybe I really shouldn't have told that last one about a doctor performing a breast augmentation on the wrong patient. When we arrived, my friend and another doctor quickly repaired the damage. I did not realize until much later, while talking with my friend the doctor, how very serious the situation was. If my prone-to-hysteria wife were there, or worse her mother, it would have been chaotic, with much screaming and anxiety. This would have then upset me, which as my friend explained, could have caused my heart to start pumping harder and faster, further opening the damaged vein and causing me to lose an even more dangerous amount of blood. Instead, because the mood was light and I was in good spirits thanks to all the jokes, I remained calm and was able to leave the hospital that same night. Humor saved the day!” |
- This is a true story
that occurred to
Dr. Jay Polmar in San Felipe Hospital,
Mexico City, Jan. 1 2008 9PM
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