Surgery to Correct Poland Syndrome – Part 1
I am in a few different Facebook groups for Poland Syndrome and inevitable every few weeks someone is asking about surgery to correct Poland Syndrome.
I remember when I was 15 my mother was driving me home from one of my many soccer events. It was a long drive this time and we stopped to get lunch on the way. At some point during the lunch she says, “your father and I have been talking about getting you a specialist.”
Being in soccer mode and have just had a conversation with my dad only a few days ago about getting a private trainer I assumed she meant that and her wrong terminology (specialist vs. trainer) was due to her general ignorance about soccer.
“Yeah, I know. Dad mentioned that the other day.”
When it became clear that we were talking about two different things her intended direction for the conversation continued.
“We think it might be time to find a doctor to start your surgeries.”
Not what I was expecting and not at all a comfortable conversation. I can count the number of conversations about Poland Syndrome up to that point on my affected hand. Now we were jumping to a conversation about surgery. A surgery that would mess with my soccer season and all my fitness progress.
Saying no or pushing back or asking questions didn’t seem to be an option for whatever reason. I just seemed easier to go along with things, and so I did.
Within a month I was sitting in the office of a surgeon that had much experience with reconstructive surgery — and had even seen a case of Poland Syndrome before.
He was nice enough. His staff was warm and friendly. And doing or saying anything to derail the predetermined plan of my parents didn’t seem possible.
At age 16, just after my soccer team had won the U16 National Championship, I went under the knife. Knowing that I’d miss much of my fall school soccer season. Knowing that I wouldn’t be able to train for 6 weeks. Knowing that know people would know because Melissa not playing soccer must mean something is seriously wrong.
I had a very uncomfortable conversation with my school coach — and he was nothing but understanding.
I told my travel coach and she tried to lighten the mood by saying, “doesn’t he (doctor) know how hard we’ve trained.” The look on my face at those words made it clear that yes, those were exactly my thoughts, but I had no other choice.