Why Surgery is O.K. for Us

In preparation for Stake Conference, our leaders have asked us to record and recount a spiritual experience—so here you go:

One of the most important spiritual experiences I’ve been through happened during the end of D’s third year of medical school. I was pregnant with Roger, my 3rd, and D was trying to figure out what field of medicine he should go into. We had been warned and counseled by many, including D’s father, a cardiovascular surgeon, that surgery was not a field to take lightly—the work hours would always be exhaustive, pay was not on the rise, and years to train were longer than most residencies and those years would be guaranteed to be gruesome, at least 80 hour-workweeks and lots of, hmmm, difficult personalities to deal with.

D was torn—he had felt interest in surgery since he was young and this interest had increased during medical school. But he also knew he wanted to be a family man. He already had 2 children with one more on the way. How could he make a decision that would take him away from his family, especially when he knew he would probably be just fine following a less rigorous field of medicine like anesthesia. . . .What to do?

We had been discussing this issue pretty rigorously one Friday night. I told D I wanted to be able to support him in his decision to be a surgeon, but I was scared. My mind told me I wanted him to follow his dream, but my heart wasn’t sure exactly how I would react to weeks, months, and years with him at the hospital for longer and stranger hours than I’d like. I was afraid I wouldn’t be the stable support system for him that I knew he would need. I didn’t want to be the person who resented his decision—he didn’t want to make a decision that would impact me and our family so strongly without my full-fledged support. We’d been taught by our church leaders that any success in life can not foreshadow a failure in the home. I knew that for our home to be a ‘successful’ and happy place, I would need an okay from Heavenly Father that this was the right thing for us—specifically that I could handle whatever the years of training and beyond would throw at us.  That night we offered a heartfelt prayer to our Heavenly Father for an answer to these questions.

The next morning our Stake Relief Society had a fireside scheduled with the topic of ‘tender mercies.’ As I sat through the first few talks, my mind was rolling and thinking about the issues we’d discussed— Could I handle D’s surgical training? Could I support him? Could I be a good enough mom with him gone so much?

Then a beautiful talk began by a member of our stake. I wish I could remember her name. She began by recounting a recent and raw trial she had undergone: while in the hospital after giving birth to her fourth child, she had found a lump in her breast. The diagnosis was not good: breast cancer. She then shared the special and wonderful tender mercies that she had experienced during this trial that told her God was watching and aware of her. I was touched. She told of the oncologist who had visited her home to deliver the bad news. She told of the anesthesiologist’s reassuring words prior to her surgeries. She had been blessed by many friends and family as well.

But, my attention was riveted by the small experiences she had had with her physicians. In my mind’s eye I saw my husband away from our home. I felt the frustrations I would experience because of this, BUT a strong impression came to me that his absence from our home would be a noble work. He would be the practitioner making a difference to vulnerable patients—some of them mothers just like this woman with breast cancer. His time away would be work, yes, but also a great service to his fellow man—just like Christ. The spirit testified to me that although this was was HIS job, it would MY job as well. I felt strongly that Heavenly Father would support me in this endeavor. I felt that although I would only be an accessory to my his work—not a member of the medical team or staff-- my sacrifice and blessings would be as though I was directly involved. I felt assured that I could handle whatever was in store for us. I felt our answer was made. D could pursue surgery without regret. He could pursue surgery with my full support.

Now that we are 3 years into training, I have leaned upon this experience from time to time. When I am frustrated or tired and wishing D was just HOME or at CHURCH, I try to imagine the patients’ he is treating. I have been so blessed by his 'gift of gab' because he often shares some special moments he's had with me. When I am frustrated, I try to remember those impressions I had that wonderful morning. I thank my Heavenly Father for this wonderful experience I had and his answer to our prayer.  I feel so blessed because of it.