After putting on the hospital gown, I sat on the hospital bed waiting for the nurse to come draw my blood one last time before the surgery. The smell of antiseptic wafted through the air, inescapable in a place like this. My stomach was in knots, my eyes tearing up. Coming back to the hospital for another procedure was harder than I thought it would be. It was a minor surgery, but a surgery all the same.
For Stephen Hauss, his surgery was anything but minor. As the director for pharmacy admissions and recruitment, Hauss has been plugged in at Union ever since he was a student here, which was when his symptoms began that ultimately led to his heart surgery.
Hauss has hypertrophic cardiomyopathy, also known as HCM. Essentially, this means that there was abnormal thickness in Hauss’s heart before he had the surgery to remedy that.
“I don’t love to talk about my heart because that’s my vulnerability,” said Hauss. “But at the same time, I told God, ‘if there’s anything good that can come of this, I’ll do it.’”
So Hauss began his journey of surgery and healing. After getting a pacemaker put in, his doctors decided they would need to go in and remove some of the excess muscle of his heart.
“Looking back, I think, ‘wow, that was a big deal,’ but also it went so well,” said Hauss.
Due to the potency of the medicines given for surgery, he couldn’t remember anything following being wheeled toward the operating room, which ended up being a blessing in disguise.
Being in an operating room makes the rest of the world melt away, but not in a good way. All that is left is this moment, this terrifying moment, where you wonder what the doctors will do while you’re unconscious and what the world will look like when you wake up.
Something like Hauss’s surgery can be life-altering, leaving him in the ICU for ten days followed by weeks of recovery. For Hauss, however, the hardest part was before the surgery, not after.
“That was a dark time. But it led to a lot of good things in life, and I think God blessed me through it and despite it,” said Hauss.
If you know Hauss, you might not know that he has this diagnosis. He used to work in undergraduate admissions; he was my admissions counselor when I came in as a freshman, and I had no idea he was going through this.
“I didn’t tell my story in detail to everybody, but I tried to communicate that to every student that if you come here, there is a community of people who will support you,” said Hauss.
Hauss has used his experiences to pour into others, whether they have been through something similar or not. As a youth table leader at his local church, Hauss had the opportunity to connect with a young man who also had a looming surgery. He was able to show this student his scar, bringing a huge smile to an undoubtedly downcast, anxiety-stricken face.
“That was cool to really be able to reach out to him and say, ‘I’m in the trenches with you,’” said Hauss.
As I sat there listening to Hauss speak, I couldn’t help but think of my own different diagnosis I received almost two years ago. Although my ailment was treatable and essentially may be cured, I will always be looking over my shoulder wondering if it will come back or cause me issues in the future, just like Hauss must be wondering. There’s no guarantee that we have tomorrow, but whether you’ve received an unfortunate diagnosis or not, that is the reality for everyone.
We need people who are willing to sit with us and listen, who have been through similar journeys and can be with us in our pain. While this young man Hauss spoke to is no longer with us, Hauss still had the opportunity to offer comfort during a time of anxiety and to use his own circumstances to help others with theirs.
Although there are times that our stories can bless others and bring hope, that does not mean that we always want to carry the burden of our past with us.
“There’s moments where I try to forget that I’m different,” said Hauss. “But it’s very evident a lot of times.”
Scars mark us forever as a physical reminder of what we have been through. Other people may notice them, and we may feel self-conscious. And while those moments are very real and need to be validated, we can use those moments to share our story or remind ourselves of what we have made it through. When people like myself reach out to Hauss, he wants to commit to sharing his story.
“When opportunities like this arise, I’ve made it a point to say yes, even if I don’t want to, just because I know God brought me through that, and I think that’s something college students can learn from: when the worst happens, God’s still there,” said Hauss.
After my own surgery, it felt surreal. It was the end of an era of medical treatments, hospital visits and regular scans. While I’m still being monitored closely, I was still able to close a chapter of my life and move on with my life because medical issues are just a portion of my and Hauss’ stories– not the whole book.
Photo courtesy of Neil Cole
