Elective Surgery
November 8 , 2007

Last month, a very dear friend of ours had to go into the hospital for emergency repairs. His surgery was prolonged and scary, and his family sent out daily email updates on his progress. It's not my style to expect the worst (because, these days, as soon as we give in to hopelessness, the bastards have won). But for a few days there, although I would never admit it, even to myself, a teeny little voice at the back of my brain began to wonder if my next column was going to be in memoriam.

To our profound relief, and the delight of many concerned friends and colleagues, our friend pulled through his surgery like the champ he is. But a funny thing happened to him on the road to recovery. Since his experience with invasive surgery, he's found he can no longer stomach scenes of violence and torture in the espionage thrillers he loves to read. What's more, a lifelong movie fan and film historian, he's now creeped out by movie scenes depicting what he calls  "the cruelty that people do to each other."

This isn't the first time I've heard of this extraordinary phenomenon. Years ago, a neighbor of ours had to have extensive heart bypass surgery. He survived the operation in good shape, but this lifelong gun fancier, with his collection of prized firearms, discovered that after his surgery he no longer had any interest in going to the firing range. Squeezing the trigger, seeing the impact of the bullet, even on a cardboard target, was too intense for him. He had to put his guns away for good.

Me, I've never even had my tonsils out. The last time I stayed in a hospital overnight, I went home in a bassinette. But there must be something about dramatic, invasive surgery—monkeying around with one's vital organs—that imbues one with a renewed respect for the slender miracle of life. Not to mention the sanctity of the body; imperfect though it may be, the body is the vessel of our lives and requires tender loving care. When something traumatic happens to that vessel, (our friend reportedly had to have 60% of his blood replaced during the course of his surgery), maybe the brain instinctively recoils from the very contemplation of further damage. Maybe when something brings a person so close to the brink of death, the idea of death is no longer so comfortably abstract.

It seems to me there ought to be some practical application for this condition. Could it be the miracle cure for war that humankind has been searching for? Forget the arms race, pre-emptive strikes, the Star Wars defense, and other equally nutty so-called deterrents (that deter nothing but your hard-earned tax dollars away from health, education, and social programs that desperately need it, the programs of Life, into the programs of Death).

What if, instead of exorbitant military spending costs, the solution to warfare was so much more simple: require every world leader to undergo a few hours of major surgery. Make it a condition of taking office. Before they rise to power, they have to go under the knife. It's a whole new spin on the idea of elective surgery: first you get elected, then you get the surgery.

As we all know, the most rabid warmongering politicians, those most eager to mouth inane platitudes like "Bring it on," or boast of a title like "war president," have rarely experienced actual war themselves. But once their own vitals are put in jeopardy, maybe they'll find themselves at least physically (if not morally) repelled by the idea of ordering more "troops" (that is, thriving young lives) into body-shredding, soul-depleting battle zones from which too few will ever return. If the brain and conscience fail to intervene, let the body take over.

If Al Gore can win a Nobel Peace Prize for his campaign against global warming (and, let's face it, war and peace are both moot without a globe to wage them on), surely somebody ought to snag a Nobel for implementing mandatory Elective Surgery (for all world leaders, of course, not just ours). Think of the lives and money saved when governments adopt post-op, over pre-empt policies.

The nature of the surgeries could vary, according to circumstances. I'd vote for a lobotomy for George W, if it didn't look like somebody already  beat us to it. (Besides, that sort of operation requires evidence of functioning brain matter to be excised.) How about an infusion of compassion, replacing, say, 60% of the Texas Crude in his veins with blood that once pumped through an actual human heart?

Of course, this administration collectively is already too far gone in the crimes this procedure is intended to stop. Not even a combined Rove-ectomy and Rumsfeld-ectomy have been enough to save this particular body politic. Like all the most virulent, Code-Red cancers, the damage has already been done to the American spirit, morale, and reputation (to say nothing of our Constitution and civil rights).

But for the future (if there is one), perhaps its time to take a cue from the leech-happy medical practice of previous centuries. Where politicians are concerned, a little preventative bloodletting up front might save oceans of senseless bloodshed later on.