When this post goes up, I’ll be going down.
I was born with a severely deviated nasal septum. The large circle (ignore the smaller one) in the image gives you an idea of this. (Black is air. Grey is soft tissue. White is bone.) The big grey thing going down the middle should be straight.
Signs and symptoms of a deviated septum include: obstructed breathing, congestion, pressure, infections, dryness, snoring, mouth breathing, nosebleeds, facial pain, nasal asymmetry.
It turns out air going in through your nose is important. Go figure.
Due to the deviation, there is a coffee-stirrer sized tunnel for air to get through the left side of my nose.
Bodies compensate and adapt in remarkable ways, so my status quo feels normal to me. Perhaps this is a lesson in business and how you might feel about your current job(s) as well…
Sometimes it’s good to hire a an objective observer. I can’t appreciate the presence or magnitude of the deviation unless I occlude my right nostril and try to breathe through my nose, but any ENT who takes a look says “Woah!”
In a few hours, I’ll be treated to a septoplasty, inferior turbinate reduction, and nasal valve repair.
Since we opted for the open approach (for any of you ENT nerds out there), my surgeon will be able to use the otherwise discarded cartilage from my gnarly septum to give support to my floppy nasal sidewalls so they don’t collapse as much when I inspire (dang Bernoulli’s Principle; at least it helps get planes off the ground). Recycling at its finest.
I want to take a moment to acknowledge, recognize, appreciate, thank, and see all the surgeons and anesthesiologists out there who save lives and otherwise make amazing things happen for people who are suffering.
I’m a dermatologist. I never wanted to work in a hospital or surgery center. The sound of my pager during internship and residency still gives me anxiety. I’m not built for that stuff, and I don’t want anything to do with it.
Plus, you don’t want to see me when I show up to the ED and the person who paged me says “Derm? Oh! I didn’t think you’d come…” 😡
But, some courageous, smart, talented folks do take on this monumental, critically important journey.
The training is insanely long, especially for folks like neurosurgeons (THANK YOU! — you saved my Dad when he had an intracranial bleed that needed decompression), and I can only imagine the impact it has on one’s psyche, family, other aspirations, and so on.
The call is unpredictable and totally disruptive to living a “normal” life, especially if you have a family.
And the work is high stakes and high pressure.
So thank you.
I see you. I hear you. I applaud you. I try to empathize with how the unique nature of your daily grind must impact you and those close to you.
And, in the unlikely event that something terrible happens (general anesthesia does have its risks), thanks to everyone for reading — it’s been real!
