Surgery Inspirational Quotes

Watching my parents I've learnt a lesson many do not recognize. True love is not signaled by romantic, candle light dinners, red roses glistening with dew, or even Valentine's day celebrations. While these things may accompany our feelings, love is truly more than all those! Love is being with your spouse even when its not pleasing. Sometimes, love is walking down the hall, with your spouse hanging onto your shoulders and walking at a turtle's pace down the hall, just because surgery made life a burden. Love is patient, love is kind, love is Jesus! May we always remember love is not always tied in bows!

There are jokes about breast surgeons. You know-- something like-- I've seen more breasts in this city than-- I don't know the punch line. There must be a punch line. I'm not a man who falls in love easily. I've been faithful to my wife. We fell in love when we were twenty-two. We had plans. There was justice in the world. There was justice in love. If a person was good enough, an equally good person would fall in love with that person. And then I met-- Ana. Justice had nothing to do with it. There once was a very great American surgeon named Halsted. He was married to a nurse. He loved her-- immeasurably. One day Halsted noticed that his wife's hands were chapped and red when she came back from surgery. And so he invented rubber gloves. For her. It is one of the great love stories in medicine. The difference between inspired medicine and uninspired medicine is love. When I met Ana, I knew: I loved her to the point of invention.

Remember, it is no sign of weakness or defeat that your manuscript ends up in need of major surgery. This is a common occurrence in all writing, and among the best writers.

The night before brain surgery, I thought about death. I searched out my larger values, and I asked myself, if I was going to die, did I want to do it fighting and clawing or in peaceful surrender? What sort of character did I hope to show? Was I content with myself and what I had done with my life so far? I decided that I was essentially a good person, although I could have been better--but at the same time I understood that the cancer didn't care. I asked myself what I believed. I had never prayed a lot. I hoped hard, I wished hard, but I didn't pray. I had developed a certain distrust of organized religion growing up, but I felt I had the capacity to be a spiritual person, and to hold some fervent beliefs. Quite simply, I believed I had a responsibility to be a good person, and that meant fair, honest, hardworking, and honorable. If I did that, if I was good to my family, true to my friends, if I gave back to my community or to some cause, if I wasn't a liar, a cheat, or a thief, then I believed that should be enough. At the end of the day, if there was indeed some Body or presence standing there to judge me, I hoped I would be judged on whether I had lived a true life, not on whether I believed in a certain book, or whether I'd been baptized. If there was indeed a God at the end of my days, I hoped he didn't say, 'But you were never a Christian, so you're going the other way from heaven.' If so, I was going to reply, 'You know what? You're right. Fine.' I believed, too, in the doctors and the medicine and the surgeries--I believed in that. I believed in them. A person like Dr. Einhorn [his oncologist], that's someone to believe in, I thought, a person with the mind to develop an experimental treatment 20 years ago that now could save my life. I believed in the hard currency of his intelligence and his research. Beyond that, I had no idea where to draw the line between spiritual belief and science. But I knew this much: I believed in belief, for its own shining sake. To believe in the face of utter hopelessness, every article of evidence to the contrary, to ignore apparent catastrophe--what other choice was there? We do it every day, I realized. We are so much stronger than we imagine, and belief is one of the most valiant and long-lived human characteristics. To believe, when all along we humans know that nothing can cure the briefness of this life, that there is no remedy for our basic mortality, that is a form of bravery. To continue believing in yourself, believing in the doctors, believing in the treatment, believing in whatever I chose to believe in, that was the most important thing, I decided. It had to be. Without belief, we would be left with nothing but an overwhelming doom, every single day. And it will beat you. I didn't fully see, until the cancer, how we fight every day against the creeping negatives of the world, how we struggle daily against the slow lapping of cynicism. Dispiritedness and disappointment, these were the real perils of life, not some sudden illness or cataclysmic millennium doomsday. I knew now why people fear cancer: because it is a slow and inevitable death, it is the very definition of cynicism and loss of spirit. So, I believed.

Health is normal. The human body is a self-repairing, self-defending, self-healing marvel. Disease is relatively difficult to induce, considering the body's powerful immune system. However, this complicated and delicate machinery can be damaged if fed the wrong fuel during the formative years. ... Healthy living with nutritional excellence throughout life can slow the decline of aging. It can prevent the years and years of suffering in ill health that is so common today as people get older and become dependent on medical treatments, drugs, and surgery. Nutritional excellence is the only real fountain of youth.

There once was a very great American surgeon named Halsted. He was married to a nurse. He loved her—immeasurably. One day Halsted noticed that his wife’s hands were chapped and red when she came back from surgery. And so he invented rubber gloves. For her. It is one of the great love stories in medicine. The difference between inspired medicine and uninspired medicine is love. When I met Ana, I knew: I loved her to the point of invention.

I was thinking of how sometimes, trying to say the right thing to people, it's like some kind of brain surgery...

As her mom had always told her whenever a new surgery was imminent, though, the only way to secure a better future was to tackle the hard stuff in the present. That was true on an interpersonal level as it had been for her physical challenges through the years.

He believed that a burger joint ought to look like a join, not like a surgery, not like a nursery with pictures of clowns and funny animals on walls, not like a bamboo pavilion on a tropical island, not like a glossy plastic replica of a 1950s diner that never actually existed. If you were going to eat charred cow smothered in cheese, with a side order of potato strips made as crisp as ancient papyrus by immersion in boiling oil, and if you were going to wash it all down with either satisfying quantities of icy beer or a milkshake containing the caloric equivalent of an entire roasted pig, then this fabulous consumption ought to occur in an ambience that virtually screamed guilty pleasure, if not sin.

The child's heart beat: but she was growing in the wrong place inside her extraordinary mother, south of safe...she and her mother were rushed to the hospital, where her mother was operated on by a brisk cheerful diminutive surgeon who told me after the surgery that my wife had been perhaps an hour from death from the pressure of the child growing outside the womb, the mother from the child growing, and the child from growing awry; and so my wife did not die, but our mysterious child did...Not uncommon, an ectopic pregnancy, said the surgeon...Sometimes, continued the surgeon, sometimes people who lose children before they are born continue to imagine the child who has died, and talk about her or him, it's such an utterly human thing to do, it helps deal with the pain, it's healthy within reason, and yes, people say to their other children that they actually do, in a sense, have a sister or brother, or did have a sister or brother, and she or he is elsewhere, has gone ahead, whatever the language of your belief or faith tradition. You could do that. People do that, yes. I have patients who do that, yes... One summer morning, as I wandered by a river, I remembered an Irish word I learned long ago, and now whenever I think of the daughter I have to wait to meet, I find that word in my mouth: dunnog, little dark one, the shyest and quietest and tiniest of sparrows, the one you never see but sometimes you sense, a flash in the corner of your eye, a sweet sharp note already fading by the time it catches your ear.

Never underestimate the potential of a person with a disability. You might be looking at a future author that will inspire the discouraged at heart.

Your body is baggage you carry through life. The more excess the baggage, the shorter the trip. -Arnold Glasow

Everything Is Everything And Nothing Is Nothing.

The sick suffer alone, they undergo procedures and surgeries alone, and in the end, they die alone. Transplant is different. Transplant is all about having someone else join you in your illness. It may be in the form of an organ from a recently deceased donor, a selfless gift given by someone has never met you, or a kidney or liver from a relative, friend or acquaintance. In every case, someone is saying, in effect, “Let me join you in the recovery, your suffering, your fear of the unknown, your desire to become healthy, to get your life back. Let me bear some of your risk with you.

If someone says, "You can make it!" down a vertical mountain when you don't ski very well, think about it before launching. This can be a turning point in your life. It sure was in mine when I slammed into the mountain. I wish I'd said, "F'getabout it, sucka," and gone to the Kiddie Corral. Would have saved a lot of pain and surgery. Think about this. What are you really up for? Is the thrill worth the cost?

At times he actually did perform marvels of surgery for the soldiers; but his chief delights were of a less public and philanthropic kind, requiring many explanations of sounds which seemed peculiar even amidst that babel of the damned. Among these sounds were frequent revolver-shots - surely not uncommon on a battlefield, but distinctly uncommon in a hospital.

With my renewed focus, informed consent—the ritual by which a patient signs a piece of paper, authorizing surgery—became not a juridical exercise in naming all the risks as quickly as possible, like the voiceover in an ad for a new pharmaceutical, but an opportunity to forge a covenant with a suffering compatriot: Here we are together, and here are the ways through—I promise to guide you, as best as I can, to the other side.

Yet the hunger to treat patients still drove Farber. And sitting in his basement laboratory in the summer of 1947, Farber had a single inspired idea: he chose, among all cancers, to focus his attention on one of its oddest and most hopeless variants—childhood leukemia. To understand cancer as a whole, he reasoned, you needed to start at the bottom of its complexity, in its basement. And despite its many idiosyncrasies, leukemia possessed a singularly attractive feature: it could be measured. Science begins with counting. To understand a phenomenon, a scientist must first describe it; to describe it objectively, he must first measure it. If cancer medicine was to be transformed into a rigorous science, then cancer would need to be counted somehow—measured in some reliable, reproducible way. In this, leukemia was different from nearly every other type of cancer. In a world before CT scans and MRIs, quantifying the change in size of an internal solid tumor in the lung or the breast was virtually impossible without surgery: you could not measure what you could not see. But leukemia, floating freely in the blood, could be measured as easily as blood cells—by drawing a sample of blood or bone marrow and looking at it under a microscope. If leukemia could be counted, Farber reasoned, then any intervention—a chemical sent circulating through the blood, say—could be evaluated for its potency in living patients. He could watch cells grow or die in the blood and use that to measure the success or failure of a drug. He could perform an “experiment” on cancer.

to love Grace unconditionally—to be blind to her condition. Bonnie had already reached that point. In fact, as she realized that our culture would not affect Grace in the same way as other girls, she began to see the advantage of having a daughter with Down syndrome. On the day of her surgery, Bonnie could not bear to be the one to hand her over to the medical staff. As I held Grace in the early morning hours prior to her surgery and then eventually walked down the hall to the operating room with her, my heart swelled with emotion. I was falling in love. Suddenly, I couldn’t imagine losing my baby girl.

Be big enough to offer the truth to people and if it short circuits them I think that's tragic. I think that's sad but, I will not strike no unholy bargains to self erase. I wont do it. I don't care how many people fucked up their lives. I don't care how many bad choices people have made. I don't care how much pettiness they've consumed and spat out. I don't care how much viciousness , rage, abuse, spanking they've dealt out. I am gonna tell the truth as I see it and I'm going to be who I fucking am and if that causes the world to shift in it's orbit and half the evil people get thrown off the planet and up into space well, you shouldn't of been standing in evil to begin with because, there is gravity in goodness. So, sorry; I have to be who I am. Everyone ells is taken. There is no other place I can go than in my own head. I can't jump from skull to skull until I find one that suits bad people around me better. I don't have that choice. So, be your fucking self. Speak your truth and if there are people around you who tempt you with nonexistence , blast through that and give them the full glory of who you are. Do not withhold yourself from the world. Do not piss on the incandescent gift of your existence. Don't drown yourself in the petty fog and dustiness of other peoples ancient superstitions, beliefs, aggressions, culture, and crap. No, be a flare. We're all born self expressive. We are all born perfectly comfortable with being incredibly inconvenient to our parents. We shit, piss, wake up at night, throw up on their shoulders, scream, and cry. We are in our essence, in our humanity, perfectly comfortable with inconveniencing others. That's how we are born. That's how we grow. That's how we develop. Well, I choose to retain the ability to inconvenience the irrational. You know I had a cancer in me last year and I'm very glad that the surgeons knife and the related medicines that I took proved extremely inconvenient to my cancer and I bet you my cancer was like "Aw shit. I hate this stuff man." Good. I'm only alive because medicine and surgery was highly inconvenient to the cancer within me. That's the only reason I'm alive. So, be who you are. If that's inconvenient to other people that's their goddamn business, not yours. Do not kill yourself because other people are dead. Do not follow people into the grave. Do not atomize yourself because, others have shredded themselves into dust for the sake of their fears and their desire to conform with the history of the dead.

Rest too long after an injury and your system powers down, preparing you for a peaceful exit. Fight your way back to your feet, however, and you trigger that magical ON switch that speeds healing hormones to everything you need to get stronger: your bones, brain, organs, ligaments, immune system, even the digestive bacteria in your belly, all get a molecular upgrade from exercise. For that, you can thank your hunter-gatherer ancestors, who evolved to stay alive by staying on the move. Today, movement-as-medicine is a biological truth for survivors of cancer, surgery, strokes, heart attacks, diabetes, brain injuries, depression, you name it.

For inspiration, I would turn again and again to Lieutenant Jason “Jay” Redman, a Navy SEAL who had been shot seven times and had undergone nearly two dozen surgeries. He had placed a hand-drawn sign on the door to his room at Bethesda Naval Hospital. It read: ATTENTION. To all who enter here. If you are coming into this room with sorrow or to feel sorry for my wounds, go elsewhere. The wounds I received I got in a job I love, doing it for people I love, supporting the freedom of a country I deeply love. I am incredibly tough and will make a full recovery. What is full? That is the absolute utmost physically my body has the ability to recover. Then I will push that about 20% further through sheer mental tenacity. This room you are about to enter is a room of fun, optimism, and intense rapid regrowth. If you are not prepared for that, go elsewhere. From: The Management.

I was proud of him, but I was also proud of myself. I'd had a minimal amount of time to get in shape to qualify for one of the hardest jobs in the world. It had been a demanding journey, with agony an ever-present shadow. Yet at thirteen weeks post-surgery, I rode my bike 444 miles. At eight months, I ran forty-eight miles in forty-five hours, and at nine months, I was challenging twenty-somethings in everything from running to rucking to pull-ups to hauling heavy shit a hell of a long way. But I wasn't out to take their souls. This young group inspired me. I wanted to push them like they were pushing me because they were the next generation of hard, and though I did like winning my fair share of runs and workouts, I liked it even better when they got me. p286

The majority of people with planets or the Ascendant in the 8th House are highly likely to face being abused by others (psychologically, sexually, physically, emotionally, and/or financially). But I want to share the good news : that this is also the House of First-Aid Help. Therapy Aid. Psychological Aid. Trauma Aid. The emergency Room. Rehabilitation Centres. The Surgery table. PLEASE GET HELP. Don't suffer alone... The same planets that have brought pain into your life, are also in the very same House of a powerful Transformative Healing. Let's get the inner healing going. Get Help today.

Be bold and stand out! You will be surprised how your healthy changes inspire others to do the same.

Nike’s policy of yanking best-selling shoes from the shelves every ten months has inspired some truly operatic bursts of profanity on running message boards. The Nike Pegasus, for instance, debuted in 1981, achieved its sleek, waffled apotheosis in ’83, and then—despite being the most popular running shoe of all time—was suddenly discontinued in ’98, only to reappear as a whole new beast in 2000. Why so much surgery? Not to improve the shoe, as a former Nike shoe designer who worked on the original Pegasus told me, but to improve revenue; Nike’s aim is to triple sales by enticing runners to buy two, three, five pairs at a time, stockpiling in case they never see their favorites again.

If those same scientists analyzed babies who are born with congenital heart disorders- who have to undergo open-heart surgery the moment they are born, whose tiny chests are opened and doused with icy water to paralyze their metabolisms, who are kept alive by machines and must have a series of surgeries as they grow-they might conclude those children would have worse outlooks than healthy children. Personally, I believe their lives are neither better nor worse, only different. We, on the mountain, and these children with their surgeries are sort of "abnormal," a kind of "mutant," because we both challenged our destiny and wrote a new ending. It's why I identify with them. When I'm with them, my life has meaning, and my heart grows. They are messengers of life, these children with voices made hoarse by the intubation that will often affect their vocal cords. In their raspy voices, they whisper to me that I was right to continue trudging over that mountain...

Steve McConnell helped us understand how poorly timed thrashing sabotages every failed software project. It turns out that the problem extends far beyond software. Any project worth doing involves invention, inspiration, and at least a little bit of making stuff up. Traditionally, we start with an inkling, adding more and more detail as we approach the ship date. And the closer we get to shipping, the more thrashing occurs. Thrashing is the apparently productive brainstorming and tweaking we do for a project as it develops. Thrashing might mean changing the user interface or rewriting an introductory paragraph. Sometimes thrashing is merely a tweak; other times it involves major surgery. Thrashing is essential. The question is: when to thrash? In the typical amateur project, all the thrashing is near the end. The closer we get to shipping, the more people get involved, the more meetings we have, the more likely the CEO wants to be involved. And why not? What’s the point of getting involved early when you can’t see what’s already done and your work will probably be redone anyway? The point of getting everyone involved early is simple: thrash late and you won’t ship. Thrash late and you introduce bugs. Professional creators thrash early. The closer the project gets to completion, the fewer people see it and the fewer changes are permitted. Every software project that has missed its target date (every single one) is a victim of late thrashing. The creators didn’t have the discipline to force all the thrashing to the beginning. They fell victim to the resistance.

Always remember to breathe

The voice sounded calm and sweet, but for the first time James felt scared. “It must be bad,” he thought. “If they’re like sending for a priest or something they must think I’m gonna die.” Ten minutes later James’ parents were standing over him and his mother was gently stroking his face. “Are you in pain, Jimmy?” she asked. “Yes, I need something, but they won’t give me anything.” James’ dad tried to sound authoritative as he spoke, “You’re just fine. They have to do a little surgery to repair your leg, but you’re just fine, son.

surgery can help to remove a damaged organ but only meditation and quiet time can remove emotions like anger and fear to calm and soothe a disturbed mind

If you change the way you look at things, the things you look at change. -Wayne Dyer

It's not just about losing the weight, it's about losing the lifestyle and mindset that got you there. -Steve Maraboli

Common sense is like a fresh, simplistic, non-prejudiced analysis of a problem that was otherwise considered complicated.

Although I owned a boat, I had no sonar, metal detector or any practical method of surveying the ocean bottom. With an incurable illness, no prospect of financial reward, little chance of success, brain surgery looming, and one child in college with another about to start, I was not in a position to spend thousands of dollars on a search. Still, desperate for a distraction, anything to pry my focus away from the disease, I decided—the hell with Parkinson’s. I’m doing it.

Star Struck Our group visited the laser light show, an attraction mixing music and beams of bright colors as they formed constellations and abstract shapes. An awe-inspiring performance, but as it ended, I noticed the stranger, eyes still focused on me. I turned away quickly. “Look--over by the door. There he is again.” I gestured for my friend to sneak a peek in the direction of the man. “Where?” She squinted, her head pointed straight at him. “I don’t see him--maybe he left.” Frustration tinged my voice. “He’s right there--hasn’t moved an inch. He’s almost smiling at me now. Please don’t try to say I’m imagining him.” Fear mounted in me. Was I being stalked? I tucked the thought away, determined to enjoy this time with my companions, to relax in the gentle warmth of the sun. As our excursion neared its end, I glanced to the left, at the wall of a building, devoid of gates or doors of any sort. The man leaned against it, looking at me. This time I stared back, determined to show a bravery I didn’t feel. Hidden in pockets, my hands trembled. A calm smile and deep compassion shone on his face as we locked eyes for what felt like minutes, but probably lasted only seconds. Then--I don’t know how to explain it--it was as though a burst of conversation swept from his mind to mine. “Everything’s going to be all right.” I felt an intense warmth head to toe, as though embraced in a spiritual hug from the inside out. “There’s work ahead.” I took a deep breath, maintaining the eye contact, listening. He continued to smile with his eyes. “I’ll be watching.” I nodded slowly, softly. I understood. And felt safe. A friend tugged on my arm, pulling me toward another monument. I turned my head back for a glimpse of the man, but he was gone. I scanned the building once more, searching for openings he could have exited through. There were none. I shook my head. I knew I’d seen him. And he’d seen me. I was certain he was real. I still felt his warmth. We headed for home, my mind filled with questions about the man, and the message I’d somehow received. Reason fought against intuition. He was just an ordinary guy. Or was he? In the months to come, I overcame my fears and visited the doctor. I underwent three cardiac catheterization operations, and a successful triple-bypass surgery. Through them all, I knew I’d be al right. Years have passed since that day. But the peace he projected has remained with me. God sent me comfort in a way I needed, in a form I could understand and trust--an ordinary-looking man. He gave me the courage and the confidence to take care of my health problems. My angel. And even though I can’t see him, I know he’s still watching. I know things are going to be all right. How can I be so sure? Because there’s still work for me to do. He told me so. -Nancy Zeider

Star Struck We headed for home, my mind filled with questions about the man, and the message I’d somehow received. Reason fought against intuition. He was just an ordinary guy. Or was he? In the months to come, I overcame my fears and visited the doctor. I underwent three cardiac catheterization operations, and a successful triple-bypass surgery. Through them all, I knew I’d be al right. Years have passed since that day. But the peace he projected has remained with me. God sent me comfort in a way I needed, in a form I could understand and trust--an ordinary-looking man. He gave me the courage and the confidence to take care of my health problems. My angel. And even though I can’t see him, I know he’s still watching. I know things are going to be all right. How can I be so sure? Because there’s still work for me to do. He told me so. -Nancy Zeider

Self-disruption is akin to undergoing major surgery, but you are the one holding the scalpel.

It was surreal to see such normalcy in the midst of my personal crisis. The horses still raced. The vendors still served food. The world did not stop because I had a brain tumor.

surgery, which would necessitate well-timed, perfect precision in execution.) Grow by purposefully contributing, connecting, and learning, with doses of compassion. Give your time and add real value in good causes. Communicate empathetically and clearly, and keep learning to do so. Inspire others. You will very likely end up getting more by giving. Over time, your good deeds will translate subconsciously to solid success habits. Keep at it, and you will find your identity and confidence enhanced. Without contribution and growth, you will not be fulfilled. Without fulfillment, you may not feel truly successful. Your biggest competitor should only ever be yourself. Avoid the trap of

Ayesha’s memories of Syria are fractured. She relives a feeling of constant exhaustion, of feeling unsafe, and then those moments before the injury. Her thoughts shift to the aftermath, the vision of displaced persons flooding over Turkey’s border and back into Syria, even while the conflict peaked. But even after endless painful and traumatic surgeries, Ayesha sits in bed with her schoolbooks and shrugs. “Never give in, never give up,” she stresses, scrolling through her toddler photographs — evidence of the life “before.” “Even when you think hope is lost, it will be back in you.” Nothing is permanent, I think to myself. We may not be able to alter the experience of what has happened to us, but sunshine eventually casts aside even the gloomiest days. If we are willing to ride it out, the prospect of betterment always returns.

That serves to illustrate there is this element of faith and this element of power. When you have people praying for you and you're praying yourself, coupled with the power of fasting, which makes you more humble and more teachable, you can learn things, even if it is given to you by revelation. ~~Russell M. Nelson: Father, Surgeon, Apostle by Spencer Condie

Rather than lying to ourselves that we are the best, I find it more commonsensical we accept ourselves the way we are. No amount of positive self-talk, expensive plastic surgery can remedy a broken self-image.

Beck Weathers was a Texan who worked studying diseases as a pathologist. He became fascinated with the act of mountaineering, or climbing tall mountains. He got really into it. Eventually, he found himself attempting to climb to the top of the tallest mountain on earth, Mount Everest. Unfortunately for Beck, he had eye surgery before his trip. As he kept getting higher and higher up the mountain, his vision kept getting worse. Although a blind person has made it to the top of Everest before, it’s really helpful to be able to see when you’re climbing mountains. Especially if everyone on your team isn’t expecting you to become blind up there. One wrong step can mean death on Everest. Rob Hall was a professional mountaineer. He was getting paid to take eight clients up the mountain and Beck was one of them. When you climb Everest, you do some of your climbing at night. As night fell, Beck’s vision got even worse. He knew that he wouldn’t be able to make it to the top. Rob told him that the safest thing to do was to wait where he was and the rest of the group would help him down after they had been to the top. They would meet back up with Beck on their way down. Beck was pretty grumpy about this but realized that he had no choice. His dream of getting to the top of the world’s tallest mountain would have to wait.

I sat on my patio watching the wispy clouds until the sky turned a soft shade of magenta and the sun dropped below the horizon. Over those hours, my mind let go of the day, which provided space for an unexpected message to be heard. ​The message was:  Embrace the journey. Embrace all of it, even the good and bad. You may not have chosen this journey, but it is, and forever will be, yours. I sat in silence a little longer, taking in the revelation. ​It's true. I didn’t choose cancer; cancer chose me. As much as I was desperate to skip past the chemo, surgery, radiation, and everything else that comes with a diagnosis, I needed to experience the lessons that would unfold along the way. I had to embrace it all to become a better version of myself. It was time to “embrace the journey” instead of resisting it.  ​I didn’t know if I could, but I’d try.

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You preserved your life because your life, your body, was as good as anyone’s, because your blood was as precious as jewels, and it should never be sold for magic, for spirituals inspired by the unknowable hereafter. You do not give your precious body to the billy clubs of Birmingham sheriffs nor to the insidious gravity of the streets. Black is beautiful—which is to say that the black body is beautiful, that black hair must be guarded against the torture of processing and lye, that black skin must be guarded against bleach, that our noses and mouths must be protected against modern surgery. We are all our beautiful bodies and so must never be prostrate before barbarians, must never submit our original self, our one of one, to defiling and plunder.

There are interesting trends developing in clothing, hair, cosmetics, beauty standards, and cosmetic surgery in North Korea. Those who consider such things trivial should think again: these trends are changing how some people feel about the DPRK authorities, and even inspiring a few to defect.

wanting to change a person who doesn't want to change himself is like cosmetic surgery on cancer patients

Kis for Knowledge. Unlike the old saying, what you don’t know will hurt you. You’ve got to acquire new knowledge. I don’t give you much chance for success after surgery if you rely on the same old information. If you continue to think that beef jerky is a good snack, then I foresee weight struggles in your future. If you keep hoping that “low fat” or “fat-free” will make you healthy, I only see more disappointments headed your way. You have to read new and better books, watch better TV programs, hang out with better people who will inspire you. You have to take the classes, learn new skills, and challenge yourself to be better.

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These neurological processes work similarly in almost every species, including birds and even reptiles. That is, fear responses aren't coordinated by the parts of the brain that allow us to achieve particularly human cognitive acts, such as writing novels or solving crossword puzzles, the frontal, temporal, and parietal lobes of the neocortex. This wrinkled layer of gray matter that's highly developed in humans and other great apes, as well as whales, dolphins, and elephants, helps coordinate complex cognitive processes. Our responses to fear and anxiety are different and probably originate in the subcortical regions of the brain, shared by most vertebrates and perhaps other creatures as well. Animals capable of complex thought may have more nuanced and coordinated responses to danger, perceived or real, once we sense it. Humans, and other animals with a lot of brainpower, can construct elaborate escape plans, for example, or develop sophisticated ideas about whatever is agitating or scaring us. But the emotional experience of the anxiety or fear might be similar regardless of intelligence. These similarities are one set of reasons that nonhuman animals have been used for more than a century as neurophysiology research subjects in the quest to develop therapies for people. In the mid 1930s, the Yale neurophysiologist John Fulton performed the first frontal lobotomies on two anxious and angry chimps named Becky and Lucy. After the operation Fulton reported that Becky in particular looked like she'd joined a "happiness cult." His results helped inspire other researchers to try the surgery on people. Electroconvulsive "shock" therapy was first developed in other creatures as well, not as a treatment for animal schizophrenia but rather to determine safe voltage levels for humans. Italian researchers induced seizures in dogs and, in 1937, visited a pig slaughterhouse in Rome where the animals were stunned into unconsciousness before their throats were cut. If the pigs weren't immediately killed, they experienced the kind of convulsions that the researchers hoped would function as psychiatric cures in human patients. By 1938, a schizophrenic man known as Enrico X was given eighty volts of electricity that caused him to seize, go pale, and, oddly enough, start singing. After two more sets of shocks he called out in clear Italian, "Attention! Another time is murderous!" Within a few years, ECT had taken hold of psychiatry, first in Switzerland, then sweeping through Germany, France, the United Kingdom, Latin America, and, finally, the United States. By 1947, nine out of ten American mental hospitals were using some form of electroshock therapy on patients.

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In 2024 I proudly joined the 'Women over 40' club, somehow arriving without coloring my hair, getting botox, fillers or plastic surgery. In today’s predominantly 'plastic cookie-cutter' culture, that’s a beautiful and rebellious statement— one celebrating authenticity and humanity in its purest form. Living long enough to earn wrinkles, grey hair and deal with an aging body is a privilege not all of us are granted. That is why I will always wear my age with gratitude and fierce passion.