3 Things I Tell Every Patient Before Surgery

Surgery is never “just a procedure.”

It’s not just the incision, the instruments, or the sterile field. It’s not just the anesthesia or the stitches or the post-op instructions typed in neat Arial font.

Surgery is an emotional experience, whether it’s cosmetic, corrective, or life-saving. And behind every preoperative consult is a person—anxious, hopeful, afraid, curious, and sometimes a little bit in denial.

That’s why I never let a patient walk into the operating room without first hearing three things from me—not as a doctor, but as a human being who understands the quiet weight that surgery places on your mind and body.

1. “You’re Allowed to Be Afraid.”

Somewhere along the way, we’ve taught people that bravery means silence. That if you’re nervous about surgery, you’re weak. That if you cry in pre-op, you’re dramatic.

I’ve watched grown men tremble at the thought of going under anesthesia. I’ve held the hands of mothers having their fourth C-section. I’ve seen athletes, soldiers, teachers, students—all with different lives—grapple with the same thing: fear.

So I say it out loud. Every time.

“You’re allowed to be afraid. It’s normal. It’s human. And you’re not alone in that feeling.”

Validating a patient’s fear does more than calm them—it builds trust. It tells them that this sterile room, this hospital bed, this gown that makes them feel vulnerable—it’s still their experience, and they are still in control of how they feel through it.

2. “This Is Your Body, and You Deserve to Understand What’s Happening to It.”

Too many medical professionals rush through consent as if it’s a legal checkbox. I refuse to do that.

I look my patients in the eye and walk them through everything—what we’re doing, why we’re doing it, and what their body might feel afterward. I explain the risks without euphemisms and the benefits without overselling.

Because this isn’t about a form.

It’s about autonomy.

Your body deserves informed decisions. And I tell my patients this clearly:

“You have the right to ask every question, repeat every concern, and understand every single detail. This is your body. It’s not mine. I’m just a guest.”

And the truth is, people heal better when they feel respected. When they’re informed. When they were invited into the decision instead of being pushed through it.

3. “Scars Tell the Story of a Battle You Chose to Fight.”

Whether I’m removing a tumor or reshaping a nose, the aftermath often looks the same: a scar.

And for many patients—especially in cosmetic or reconstructive surgery—the fear of that scar runs deeper than the skin. It becomes a metaphor. A whisper of “What will people think?” or “Will I still be beautiful?” or “Will I ever feel like myself again?”

I tell them this:

“Your scar is not a flaw. It’s a signature. A reminder that you took control. That you faced something difficult and said: I’m going to do something about this.”

Scars are not shameful.

They are sacred.

They are stitched proof that healing happened. And if you ask me, there is nothing more beautiful than a person who chose to heal—even if it left a mark.

What I’ve Learned… Not from Medical School, but from Practice and Contact with Patients

Medical school taught me anatomy, pharmacology, and surgical technique.

It taught me how to diagnose, how to operate, how to calculate risk.

But it didn’t teach me how to stand still when a patient’s eyes fill with fear.

It didn’t teach me how to hold a hand without rushing.

It didn’t prepare me for the sacred, quiet moments that fall between the incisions—

the ones where healing begins not with a scalpel, but with human connection.

What I’ve learned, through years of practice, mistakes, and small triumphs, is this:

Patients don’t just want answers. They want to be heard.

They don’t always remember your surgical skill. But they never forget your compassion.

And healing isn’t just physical. It’s emotional. It’s spiritual. It’s deeply personal.

So yes, I’ll keep studying the science, perfecting the technique, and preparing for every procedure with precision.

But before any of that, I will always offer something else: presence.

Because no matter how advanced medicine becomes,

there is no substitute for humanity in healing.

And that…

I didn’t learn from a textbook.

I learned it at the bedside.