Hit Me, Baby, One More Time: My PEG Tube Diva Saga
Life really has a flair for the dramatic, doesn't it? Just when I thought I'd ticked off another medical follow-up like a routine item on my to-do list, boom! Plot twist. What was supposed to be a simple follow up medical appointment spiraled into yet another PEG tube insertion, complete with anesthesia, post-op surprises, and yes—more expenses than my wallet was emotionally prepared for.
I already sensed something was off before the appointment. In fact, this appointment was urgently brought forward from the initially proposed date as the tube wasn’t feeding smoothly into my stomach—it only worked if I sat in a very specific position. The moment I stood up or tried walking, everything stalled. Totally abnormal. The tube is like a dick—unpredictable and unreliable. You just can't trust it. That popular uncertainty? It mirrored my life a little too well.
Going through another PEG tube procedure wasn't just physically taxing; it was a whirlwind of inconvenience. Plans were thrown off track, and unexpected expenses piled up like uninvited guests.
This time, the end of the tube attached to my stomach had slipped out, causing food to bypass its intended route. To make things more complicated (because why not?), few discharges appeared near my abdomen, jamming the tube and raising the stakes. That tiny leak wasn't just annoying; it was risky, teetering on the edge of infection. Cue the antibiotics.
But what truly amazed me was the mindset I carried into this ordeal. Through a Buddhist lens, I began to see this body not as "me" or "mine"—but as just a body. A vessel, doing what it needed to do in the face of change and uncertainty. It wasn't detachment out of denial, but a grounded presence in what was real. Before the operation began, I sent a quiet, intentional message inward: "You do your thing. I will let go of this body so you can do what you need to do." Repeatedly till I lost my conscious.
The plot thickens or should i say accumulated? They had to extend the tube 5cm deeper just to get around the discharge. That means even if the discharge clears up, we still need another procedure to readjust the tube length. If it doesn’t clear? Yup, another operation to drain the discharge. This body is a Diva!!
And yet, amid all this, something extraordinary happened. Half way the surgery, I can hear what's going on even when I'm unconscious. I felt like I was listening what was happening from a third party. There is a sense of clarity. My mind, strangely lucid. My heart, surprisingly calm.
That sense of equanimity was my anchor. No resistance, just surrender. Even when I woke up to the realization that my Vesak trip to Seoul had to be cancelled—a trip I was really looking forward to—I stayed grounded. Bangkok would be home a little longer, and I accepted that with grace.
Sure, the medical bills are another saga entirely (this body is seriously high maintenance), but even that couldn't rattle me too much. Because in the grand scheme of things, this experience reminded me of something powerful: my resilience, my clarity, and my deepening ability to hold space for uncertainty without crumbling under it.
So here's to the body that demands the best. Here's to the mind that shows up clear-eyed in the fog of surgery. And here's to doing it all over again, with a little more humor and a lot more space.
Comments