Have you ever had surgery? What for?

About a decade ago, I faced my one and only surgerya bizarre incident that still feels like a scene from a slapstick comedy gone wrong. Let me take you back to that fateful day.

I was working remotely, dialed into a marathon hour-long office call. Meanwhile, the room around me buzzed with activity as the marble floor was being scrubbed with soapy water. The call finally ended, and I stood up to stretch my legs, eager for a quick break. Big mistake. I barely took a step before my foot skidded on the slick floor. In a split second, I was sprawled on my back in a narrow passage between my desk and the door, wedged between a wall and the bed’s sideboard. My left elbow and right leg took the brunt of the fall, and the immediate sting of pain was sharp but fleetingor so I thought.

For two weeks, I brushed it off. Just a bruise, right? But the colors on my leg shifted from red to an unsettling blue-green, and the pain grew from a dull ache to a relentless throb. My wife, ever the voice of reason, urged me to see a doctor. I resistedclassic stubbornnessuntil the pain became impossible to ignore.

Reluctantly, I visited an orthopedic specialist. Within minutes of examining me, his face turned serious. “You’re getting admitted today,” he said. “Surgery’s scheduled for tomorrow.” I was stunned. He explained that gangrene was creeping in, and had I delayed even a few days, I could’ve lost my leg. Lost my leg! The weight of that sank in like a stone.

The surgery went smoothly, and after a two-day hospital stay, I was back home, bandaged and humbled. A month later, the bandages came off, revealing not just healed skin but a new perspective. That slip on a soapy floor taught me a vital lesson: never underestimate your health. It’s not about panicking at every ache or bruise, but about knowing when to seek professional help. Sometimes, a small fall can lead to a big wake-up call.