43 Projects

The Shadows of Surgery

Doug never thought his heart would betray him. A lifelong runner, marathon finisher, and generally active guy, he took pride in his outstanding fitness level.  But in 2005, his life changed unexpectedly. The diagnosis came suddenly, a mitral valve prolapses. A faulty valve between the chambers of his heart meant blood was leaking back into the atrium. It wasn’t urgent at the time, but Doug was warned that at some point, that valve would need to be repaired or replaced.

Time passed. Doug kept moving. He ran until his knee gave out and he needed meniscus surgery, then transitioned to lifting weights and staying active in other ways. His heart was still a concern, but nothing that stopped him from living. Then, in the summer of 2023, his body threw him another curveball: avascular necrosis. His left hip was dying, starved of blood supply, and a replacement was scheduled for fall.

Doug assumed that his breathlessness was because of the weight he’d gained and the limits of his deteriorating hip. When walking up a flight of stairs required a pause to catch his breath, he thought little of it. But at his next heart echocardiogram, he found out that his mitral valve had finally failed. His shortness of breath wasn’t just from his hip, but it was his heart struggling to pump oxygenated blood. Heart surgery couldn’t wait, even with his recent hip replacement. Doug, now 58, needed a valve repair before the situation would get worse.

There was no panic, just preparation. His wife Jenn, a nurse practitioner, and his sister Jan, a physician’s assistant working in cardiac surgery, were by his side, so he had a strong support system. They’d even lined up his surgeon, Dr. Bashir, who was calm, comforting, and one of the best in the Midwest.

In the days leading up to surgery, Doug made peace with the unknown, and was preparing for whatever outcome he might face. He wrote a letter to his family, to be opened if things went south. In his letter he wrote a few lines specifically for his daughter, Ava. The letter remained unopened, and remains in a safe to this day, but writing it gave Doug the closure he might have needed.

When the day of the surgery came, he was ready, mentally at least. Physically, the preparation was brutal. The rooms were sterile and cold. No eating before surgery, showering with antibacterial soap, and shaving the surgical area. The people around Doug would tell him that they were praying for him, and it wasn’t that he was ungrateful, it just didn’t resonate with him. He would say “although I appreciated your good intentions, it is a waste of time praying for me.” “Pray for the surgeon,” he’d tell them. “He’s the one who’s got to do the work.”

Surgery day unfolded in a blur of bright lights, sterile rooms, and quiet anticipation. Seven hours passed while Doug’s chest lay open, his heart stopped, and his life placed in the hands of Dr. Bashir. They discovered that Doug’s tricuspid valve was also failing, so they ended up having to repair both valves. But waking up was another story. The pain hit him hard, the doctors had told him that recovery through the ribcage might be quicker than a cracked sternum, but that did not mean that it was going to be easy. Tubes ran out of his body, oxygen, heart monitors, and a temporary pacemaker. His right side ached where muscles had been cut through, and each breath felt like a struggle.

Doug vividly remembers waking up from surgery, with the tube that was intubated during surgery still down his throat. He had to be awake when they removed the tube, and even though he was somewhat sedated, he still recalls the feeling of his arms being tied down with mittens to prevent him from pulling the tube out, and the ongoing gagging from the tube being removed. After they removed the tube, the doctors asked him a series of questions. “What is your name?” Doug (Last Name). “What is your birthday?” February 4th. “Where are you?” In a fucking torture chamber. He was actually in the University of Iowa Hospital, but they accepted his answer.

The first few days in the ICU were some of the hardest. The food was bland, and sleeping at night was difficult so he was pretty tired all the time. His sister and wife had tense words with the ICU staff when they believed crucial heart readings had been missed. Their argument on his behalf may have kept Doug safe, but the uncertainty made him nervous. He had assumed his wife and sister were correct because the head of the ICU came into his room and apologized. “I thought I could die,” he admitted later, reflecting on those moments post-op. He wasn’t the type to pray or look for divine intervention. Instead, his thoughts turned to what he’d miss, and all of the things he still wanted to do in his life.

Doug had a long road ahead of him, but slowly he recovered. Walking down the street with his neighbor, who’d also had a hip replacement, they both moved at a snail’s pace, laughing when they saw a man walking his three-legged dog approach. “Isn’t that ironic?” Doug said, using humor as his constant companion through the ups and downs of recovery.

Six weeks later, Doug was moving again. He’d gone from his hospital bed to a chair in his living room, where he slept for weeks because lying flat was impossible. Pain was a constant, but he knew that it was a part of the process. Friends and family were always checking in, filling the long, quiet hours with conversation and company.

Although Doug won’t ever be able to run a marathon again, this experience left him with a sense of urgency. He retired from his job earlier than expected, realizing he didn’t want to waste more time planning when he could be living. The hospital bills, mounting close to $300,000, were a reminder of his privilege that he had insurance, he was alive, and now, he had the time to enjoy what came next. But what stayed with him most wasn’t the financial burden—it was the realization that life, no matter how healthy or strong you are, can change in an instant.

Doug had a speedy recovery. Now he focuses on enjoying every moment with Jenn and the rest of his family. He’s returned to light weightlifting, his hip holding steady, though he’s mindful of his limits. Most importantly, he’s living with gratitude, thankful not just for surviving, but for the time he now has to truly embrace what comes next.

Disabilities and Identity within Families

The film CODA (2021), directed by Sian Heder, tells the story of Ruby Rossi, a teenage girl who is the only hearing member of her deaf family. As a child of deaf adults Ruby juggles her responsibilities as her family’s interpreter with her goals of becoming a singer. This drama, with moments of humor, challenges societal perceptions of disability, family dynamics, and individual identity. Through its narrative and character development, the film drives the audience to reconsider their assumptions about disability and understand the complexities of navigating through a world divided by communication barriers.

One of the central messages of CODA is to for the audience to rethink the limits placed on individuals with disabilities. The film emphasizes that deafness is not a weakness or deficiency but rather a different way of experiencing the world. Through the portrayal of Ruby’s parents, Frank and Jackie, and her brother, Leo, the film demonstrates the self-sufficiency and resilience of deaf individuals. Frank, the family patriarch, runs a fishing business despite the barriers he faces, such as the lack of accessible resources and support from the hearing world. Similarly, Jackie and Leo exhibit competence and independence in their roles within the family and community. By presenting these characters as multidimensional and capable, CODA resists the stereotype that people with disabilities are helpless or dependent.

A key scene that underscores this theme occurs during a meeting between Frank and the town mayor. Frank confronts the mayor about the inaccessibility of the fishing business for deaf individuals, highlighting the systemic exclusion faced by the deaf community. Although the mayor dismisses Frank’s concerns, Frank’s frustration and determination in this moment reflect the broader struggle for recognition and equality. Ruby, as her father’s interpreter, is caught in the middle of this confrontation, which illustrates the emotional burden she carries as the family’s link to the hearing world. The scene invites the audience to empathize with both Frank’s fight for inclusion and Ruby’s internal conflict, asking them to reflect on the societal barriers that have these tensions.

Another key aspect of CODA is its exploration of identity, and the sacrifices required to balance individual aspirations with familial responsibilities. Ruby’s passion for singing, creates a contrast with her family’s reliance on her for communication. The film wants the audience to feel Ruby’s tension as she navigates the pull between loyalty to her family and her desire for independence. This struggle is evident in the scene where Ruby auditions for music school. Her parents, who attend the audition but cannot hear her performance, experience a moment of realization when they see the audience’s emotional reaction. This scene challenges the audience to understand that communication and connection transcend hearing, as Ruby’s parents come to appreciate her unique talents and aspirations.

The film CODA asks the audience to understand the deep connection between disability and identity. The film portrays the deaf experience as a source of pride rather than pity, illustrating how deafness shapes but does not limit the characters’ lives. By focusing on the Rossi family’s dynamic, the film emphasizes that disability should not define a person’s potential or worth. For example, Leo’s frustration with Ruby taking on the role of the family’s primary interpreter highlights his desire for autonomy and his belief in the family’s capability to function without external help. This moment wants the audience to question their own assumptions about dependence and independence in the context of disability.

Additionally, CODA asks the audience to reconsider the role of language in shaping relationships and power dynamics. Ruby’s position as the family’s interpreter places her in a unique role of authority and responsibility, not showing traditional parent-child boundaries. The film explores how this dynamic affects Ruby’s sense of self and her relationship with her family. In the scene where Ruby tells her family about her decision to attend music school, the emotional impact of her choice is noticeable. Her family’s initial resistance is created from their reliance on her, but their eventual support demonstrates their growth and willingness to let her create her own path. This moment asks the audience to think about the sacrifices made by both Ruby and her family, as well as the importance of mutual understanding and respect in navigating these sacrifices.

CODA asks the audience to feel the joy, humor, and love that define the Rossi family’s relationships. Despite the challenges they face, the family’s bond is characterized by warmth and resilience. Scenes of the family joking and laughing together prove that disability does not prevent happiness or fulfillment. By portraying the deaf experience as many sided, the film challenges the audience to see beyond stereotypes and recognize the value of life within the deaf community.

In conclusion, CODA asks the audience to believe in the potential of individuals with disabilities, understand the complexities of family dynamics shaped by disability, and feel empathy for those navigating these challenges. Through its significant portrayal of the Rossi family, the film invites viewers to rethink societal assumptions about disability and embrace a more inclusive perspective. By highlighting the strengths, struggles, and aspirations of its characters, CODA proves that disability is not a limitation but a different way of engaging with the world.

Works Cited

CODA, Directed by Sian Heder, Apple Original Films, 2021