Anyone who knows me well (or has just met me for that matter) knows that I’ve been under the knife just enough to make me awesome. When I was a wee baby I had a congenital heart thing called Tetralogy of Fallot. So I was a blue baby (and no one ever pulled a Smurf joke until recently). A self-proclaimed super surgeon took my little baby body and fixed me right up, and then had to do it again when I was a slightly larger kid. Then, at age 13, my parents were like “…uh, sorry son, it’s surgery time again.” Now I realize how much more I could have gotten out of it, and how much more I can get out of it now. And so can you!
If you’re lucky enough to not have a life-threatening illness but still need pretty major surgery, have some fun with it. When I was a kid I struck gold with stuffed animals. I was like a kingpin of toy dinosaurs and this one kickass kid’s piano. Two heart surgeries? You can bet I made it rain building toys. Problem was, the operations messed me up a little, but no matter, I could easily cite my surgeries as a reason for my weirdness (“My doctor says that my trauma requires six extra puddings a day”). If you ever don’t feel like playing a boring sport in Gym, just say heart surgery. It always works.
Okay, so I know this doesn’t actually sound glamorous. Young men like Gym, and seven puddings a day will make you a tubby little bastard. But if you’re going to have surgery, then you should look at some of the perks. First, you get to have an out of body experience. Yup, those are kinda real. Second, you get to lounge about in eerie but fun pharmacological dreamlands. And third, scars. Scars are ridiculously awesome, and if you have a noticeable one, it’s a mark of pride.
Once I decided to be a slight jerk (but mostly a badass) about it, it became something rather useful. On a rare OKCupid date (we’ve all been there) I mentioned the surgery and the scar and the girl was really into it. Now, I’m not saying go whip out a heart surgery scar everywhere, but if you detect a little bit of crazy in the lady you’re out with, use it as a teaser to the rest of you. If she sees the scar and that lustful light comes into her eyes, you are in, my fine, operated-on friend.
And did I mention that, depending on the condition they fix, you can say that you are not 100% human? Somewhere in my heart there’s a little piece of bio-plastic-stuff. This is probably not a point to bring up on a first date, but it’s pretty sweet if you think about it. The next time some nerd comes over and says, “We’re all androids now with our Internet machines,” just say, “dude, I’m actually a cyborg.” I’ve never tried this on a nerdy girl, so, if that works, expect more on the subject.
But the real cool thing about surgery is that it’s yours. You get this thing on your life resume that says you made it, and you can brag about it, and that if the surgery was botched, you get to badmouth a surgeon. Have you ever seen a profession more filled with egotistical, god complex crazies? After my last surgery, the surgeon told my family I’d never have to have another one (I always imagine this being like that scene where the villain tells the hero to walk away), so it’d be kinda neat to get wheeled in and say, “I told you I’d return!”