Step away from the mirror

My dad had a knee replacement in December of 2018. It was a surgery with a difficult recovery, but he was doing well. Because of his surgery, we didn’t see him the week between Christmas and New Year’s, as we usually did. I didn’t think much of it.

Four months later, he died.

Now I couldn’t stop thinking about everything that had happened in the last five months. Scans showed cancer in his liver, lungs, bones—everywhere. How could the surgeon have missed this? Did the orthopedic surgeon do a chest xray before his knee replacement? What did he miss?

I had more questions than answers, and my anger grew exponentially. I hated that surgeon. He screwed up, I was sure of it. I hounded my mom with questions about tests they had done or not done? She couldn’t remember, or maybe she wouldn’t tell me. I wanted the orthopedist’s name. I wanted to ruin his life…so I figured the best option I had was to sue him. Again, my mom didn’t tell me his name. She told me I was being ridiculous and should stop. She even said my dad would never want me to pursue this.

I couldn’t stop.

I didn’t even want to.

A simple Google search led me to the orthopedic surgeon. I stared at his office phone number. I was so angry. If we had known about the cancer, I would have taken my family to see my parents after Christmas. I would have done things differently. I felt cheated. Someone needed to pay for this! I could hardly think of anything else. I stewed in my hatred. It was like I was walking around with a mirror right in front of my face at all times. My anger was constantly reflected back to me. The woman I saw was full of contempt. Her eyes were lit with loathing and abhorrence.

It was an ugly period in my life.

Unfortunately, I kept the mirror right where it was. I couldn’t see a different perspective. I KNEW I was right. The surgeon had done something wrong. I had the moral high ground. My contempt was justified—even necessary.

However, as time passed, I got a bit tired of the angry woman in the mirror. She was exhausting. My dad had died, and I needed to move forward. I stopped looking at the mirror. I stopped thinking about the orthopedic surgeon in Idaho. I didn’t sue anyone. My anger was still there, but it was more like a slow simmer underneath the surface.

A few years later, my husband (who is also an orthopedic surgeon) was doing a knee replacement on a good friend from church. Everything went well during the surgery, but afterward was a different story. Our friend had complication after complication, and he was not recovering as everyone expected. Brian spent hours with him, talking and encouraging, answering all the questions his family had, and helping the best he could. Sadly, our friend died last year.

Brian and I went to the viewing at the funeral home. As we started talking with our dear friend’s wife, Brian told her he felt so awful about ever doing the surgery on his knee. His wife was so gracious and told him no one blamed him for anything! Instead, she was full of gratitude for Brian. After we talked for several minutes, we left to go home. It wasn’t until the next morning, when I was driving alone, that I realized what I gift I had been given.

I had a full circle moment.

The mirror that was obstructing my view was moved for a moment, and I got to see so much more than my own perspective. I saw how troubled Brian was about his friend. I watched Brian study and prepare for all his surgeries, and I imagined my dad’s surgeon did the same. I was filled with compassion for both doctors. I listened to a friend, in the depth of her sorrow, extend grace to my husband. She wasn’t angry. She didn’t blame him. Right in front of me, I had an example of handling the hard things in my life in a better way.

That moment in my car was an impactful one. The simmering anger dissipated. Tears of grief, gratitude, relief, and forgiveness fell for a long time. I could step away from the mirror, and truly see.

We all have mirrors in front of us. What are you seeing in yours? What is being reflected back at you?

Let my story be a cautionary tale. I had so much anger for a really long time. Trust me on this—it is good to step away from that mirror, and see things as they really are, or as they really could be.

The choice, like always, is yours.