Lessons of the Heart, Part 5: The Wisdom of Surrender

 

                As I write this, it is just a few days before my open heart surgery on September 27.  It has been a journey of some five months to get to this point, and I can honestly say that I have moved to a place of being at peace with it.  There seem to have been several phases to the process.

                At first, there was resistance even to the idea of open heart surgery, and I did everything I could think of to avoid it and find some other less radical and invasive form of treatment.  One day, about 10 minutes in to talking to one of the surgeons who specialized in less invasive surgeries, it became clear to me that the heart problems I had could only be healed by open heart surgery—sawing the ribcage in half, stopping the heart for about two hour of cutting, then re-starting the heart again, then three months of recovery.  When this realization hit, I felt a powerful sinking feeling in the body, much as though I was in physical free fall.  Fear welled up in me.

                The next phase, maybe a month, was making my peace with the fear.  This phase has already been described in earlier posts. After that, the issue became deciding on exactly what the surgery should focus on, and which surgeon should actually perform the operation.  Looking back on it, I call this phase “doing due diligence.”  During this time I had two consultations with my cardiologist and five (yes, five) long consultations with the surgeon I was most interested in choosing.

                It is hard to put into words how happy I am with these two doctors.  Over a period of three or four weeks, Eric (cardiologist) and Nick (heart surgeon) and Sandy and I worked as a team of four to create a treatment plan that would get the best results for me with the least amount of risk.  Typically, doctors seem to operate by doing tests, then telling you what is wrong with you, and then telling you exactly what your treatment will be.  But it’s all cookie cutter medicine where the treatment is based on your affliction and tests rather than on what would be best for YOU based on your specific personal needs and concerns.

        Both people I have chosen are excellent doctors—thoughtful, respectful, very passionate about helping people, and excelling at what they do—and I also feel that they are trusted friends.  I felt grateful and blessed, and once we got to this point we could set a date for the surgery.  During this time I observed a gradual and spontaneous shift in my mind and emotions.  I felt a sort of spontaneous “letting go” of my apprehension about, and mental resistance to open heart surgery.  This happened spontaneously quite on its own without any conscious effort on my part.  I no longer am resisting surgery (seeing it as something to avoid at all costs) and in fact seem to be embracing it and feeling that it is a good and positive thing that I actually want to do. 

                I think this has resulted both from being exposed to new information about my situation, but more importantly, from putting myself in a state that Zen Buddhism calls beginner’s mind. Being in beginner’s mind means approaching each new experience, each new consultation with doctors, from the perspective of someone who has dropped everything he thinks he knows and wants and is simply open to all possibilities, approaching each new event with curiosity and as though it is the very first time. 

                Now, in the last few days before surgery, I realize that the next phase is the practice of surrender.  The word “surrender” has many negative connotations for most Westerners:  it suggests giving up, throwing in the towel, not trying to do anything about a bad situation.   But surrender means something different here.  Surrender means total acceptance of what is real in this moment.  It is surrender to the truth of the present moment.   This kind of surrender does not mean I don’t care about the outcome or that I don’t have preferences.  It means that I give up all attempts to control or deny what is true in this moment.

                I have found the metaphor of getting on an airplane very useful in feeling more at peace with the prospect of major surgery.  In taking a flight somewhere, first there is doing due diligence.  I might check out the safety record for the particular airline, try to arrange a good time of day for my flight, and check to see if I can get a bargain on my seat.  I might also check to see which airline has the best policies and equipment for protecting passengers from COVID and other infections. 

                Once due diligence is done, there is the actual flight itself.  Once I am on the plane and it is accelerating down the runway to take off, I must choose to practice surrender.  I hope the mechanics serviced the plane correctly, that the pilot is competent and does not have a heart attack, but basically I need to realize that I no longer have control over any of it.  I surrender to the truth of this moment, and the truth is that I have no control.  If I can do this, and just open to the experience of having the plane ride, everything is ok and I can make my peace with any lingering fear.

                Having major surgery is just like the airplane flight.  I’ve done due diligence in picking a surgery and a surgeon.  My job now is simply to show up, and turn things over to the doctors and other staff and trust them with my life.  The truth of this moment is that once we reach this point, I have no control.  I surrender to this fact, and try to open to the wonder of the experience and enjoy the ride.  Heading into surgery, I find this realization provides comfort.

                Having been hospitalized previously, I know that my stay in the hospital after surgery will be more of the same and call for an attitude of surrender.  There will be some physical discomfort, people coming into my room unannounced at all hours of the day and night, my butt will be hanging out the back of my hospital gown, and there will be little privacy.  If I cannot surrender to this reality, I will suffer, trying to make the hospital be something it cannot be.  If I can surrender to the way things are in each moment, there can be peace and there can be less suffering.

 

This is my last post before surgery.  I don’t know how I will feel during  the time I am recovering  so I don’t know how soon after surgery I will post again.  If I am able, I hope to continue to post during my recovery time.

 

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