Under Borough’s knife

For almost half a decade, I refused to have the growing lump on my nape removed although friends teased I’ll end up looking like the "Hunchback of Notre Dame" if I didn’t. All because the surgeons I consulted told me it would take 13 stitches, at least, and heaven knows how much pain. I said, "No way!"

Being a lover of adventure, I’m more than willing to dive with a shark, grab a king cobra by the tail or rub heads with a full-grown tiger anytime than have a scalpel cut into my person. The truth is, I never had a single surgery in my life. Until now.

I had this horror of scalpels, hypodermic needles and hospital–the antiseptic-smelling, faceless walls with the funereal-looking doctors and the nurses rustling about in their immaculate uniforms.

So, when I gingerly placed one foot inside the Borough Medical Care Institute Ambulatory and Surgical Clinic, I was too awed to be terrified. I thought I have blundered inside an art gallery.

All the walls of the facility, from the front desk to the waiting rooms and the corridors winding down 18 fully-equipped consulting suites and four operating rooms displayed oil canvases ranging from landscapes of pastoral scenes to old Spanish houses, flowers, and abstract. They were all for sale, too, I learned later.

"My friend owns an art gallery," said assistant medical director Juan Heredia. "He has lots of painting he cannot display for lack of space. I just thought they will have all the room they need here."

The consulting suites were personalized as well. Borough’s pediatrician had hers decked in the sweetest baby pastels with matching bed sheets. A menagerie of soft, stuffed toys hang from the ceiling so that a child’s physical exam will be more like a trip to the play pen.

Then I met my young surgeon, Dr. Jeff Domino, who took time to explain what he intended to do with me in detail.

I had lipoma, a tumor of fatty issue. In the past, its surgery was quite an intrusive procedure because the fat was encapsulated in flesh. Doctors remove both the capsule and the fat deposit it encloses. Jeff said that it is, however, not necessary.

All he needed to do is cut through the capsule, work the fat deposit loose and remove it, although it is some three-centimeters deep and close to the spinal cord. Hopefully, the tumor will not grow again. It’s surely a benign growth but better off my nape for aesthetic purposes.

And no, I don’t need 13 or more stitches. He will make the tiniest incision possible and use surgical thread that will dissolve in a matter of days. No need to worry about big ugly scars running end-to-end like a guillotine blade that missed my neck. No need for suture removals and no extra trauma, either. And because I was scared to death of needles, he will use the smallest gauge available for kids. I won’t hurt. Well, perhaps a bit, just like an ant bite.

Come operation time, the nurses cheerfully attended to me. The colors of the surgical gowns were as happy as their faces. Everyone–doctor, nurses, and patient–donned cotton candy blue.

Because the lipoma was on the nape, Jeff instructed me to stretch out on the operating table on my stomach. "Just pretend we are out on a dive," he jested as he swung the huge, new overhead lights in focus while the nurses tucked a pillow under my chin and put a surgical drape over my head.

Under the drape, I could hear the clatter of scalpels being arranged on the instrument caddy above my head and the gadgets being wheeled in as we chatted.

No less than the assistant administrator and another lady doctor dropped in to keep me company. Wow! This is not a major surgery but I have three doctors and three nurses in the operating room.

It just so happened that my surgeon is a licensed open water scuba diver and all the rest are interested in the sport. So, we planned a whale shark encounter from the time Jeff gave me anesthesia shots until he closed the incision.

I was aware of everything throughout the procedure. The anesthesia did not make me groggy at all. It dulled the pain but focused my mind more clearly than ever.

The operation lasted over an hour. The lipoma was deep–three centimeters and lodged close to my spinal cord. My surgeon had to work it loose with his fingers. But I was greatly relived when it came off.

As soon as the nurses lifted the drape off me, I shot up from the bed, I was ready to go right away. I saw no need to linger or rest in the recovery room. After all, I have a news deadline to beat.

In a few minutes, a friend fed me a late but sumptuous Chinese lunch and had me driven home. I went to the keyboard straight away to write my story and beat my four o’clock deadline. Surprisingly, the surgery was not painful at all–except for the anesthesia shots. I didn’t even have any post-operative discomfort.

In fact, I felt like I didn’t go under the knife. There will be a little scar, my surgeon warned, but I can mask it with a tattoo of the diver’s insignia, if I want. Better yet, I can always say I finally got nipped by a shark. –JVillareal