I had operated on a brain tumour exactly a week before I was scheduled to travel for work to Uzbekistan. This 66-year-old lady had a tumour growing from her pituitary gland that was compressing her optic nerves and rapidly diminishing her vision. We removed it with finesse using an endoscope through the nose. The family was delighted that her vision had dramatically improved after surgery. The day before I was to leave the country, I saw her in the morning and asked the floor doctor to process her discharge. She was chatty and chirpy, and happy to be home soon. “I’m going to be travelling for four days, so I’ll see her after a week, as planned,” I told her daughter while conveying all the necessary post-operative care instructions. 

A few hours before she left the hospital, she collapsed in the washroom. Luckily, a nurse accompanying her prevented her from falling to the ground. When we rushed to examine her, her speech was slurred and she was facing weakness in the right arm and leg. She was having a stroke. Innumerable thoughts crossed my mind as to what could have caused it, as she was wheeled in for a CT scan after the medics ensured that her vital parameters were stable. In contrast, my heart rate and blood pressure were through the roof. It always happens… something always happens before I travel, I told myself. It is the experience of countless surgeons: Something goes wrong when you least expect it to. Or want it to. It’s nature’s way of keeping you grounded every time you plan on “flying high”.