Belly Of The Beast
Written By Amman Ahmed
Belly buttons are weird. They’re a reminder of the first and last time we had a true connection to another human- a connection you truly can’t recreate. Innies and outties give us another way to discriminate against each other (if it wasn’t for journalistic integrity I would declare my stance). But belly buttons are also a source of trauma.
Cosmetic outcomes of surgery can be very influential on the recovery period, shaping how people respond to a healed body. If it doesn’t look like your body, was the healing worth it? This can present in many ways, influencing surgical decisions and prompting further refinement of techniques. Keyhole surgeries are a prime example of the union of cosmetic benefit and scientific development, where the healed body can retain its identity.
This clash of intentions comes to the forefront in many abdominal surgeries where the belly button is put at risk of deformation. A groundbreaking study by Herring (1984) brought the consequences of “umbilicus pseudo-restoration” to the forefront, highlighting both qualitative interviews with post-op patients at various timepoints and quantitative analysis of the reduction in 5-year survival of patients who underwent “umbilicus pseudo-restoration” during surgery. With this study, the floodgates opened. Surgeons everywhere were finally given proof that their incidental findings and watercooler conversations had ground to stand on. The belly button was changing outcomes.
Usually when you pass the first third of an article, you reach a level of familiarity with the writer, understanding their tone and voice. Perhaps not quite an umbilical cord connection, but there is a level of acquaintance. I’d like to use this connection to confess something to you, my dear reader. It was all a lie. Well, mostly.
You see, this article idea stemmed from a TikTok I watched. A 30 second video where a medical student discussed the whole belly button thing, highlighting the worrying decrease in survival and the depth of the situation. Everything aligns so far, right? But in the dramatics of his narration I looked past his declaration that this was an anecdote from some surgeons he had spoken to. Like any good TikTok viewer, I then opened the comment section and saw some people agreeing, citing their own personal experience! Perfect - it had just been peer-reviewed. And so, I scrolled away and cemented this new fact in my mind. This article is part-confessional but also part-examination of the culture we exist in. It’s time to get on my soap box.
We exist in a world with endless information readily available, but a lack of time to process any of it meaningfully. Sure, in educational settings we might think more actively, but what about the rest of the day when streams and streams of information are being delivered through a glaring bright light? To make up for the egregious lying I started this piece with, I did some research into this information overload. What stood out to me was the concept of the internet as a “public market of information” where we’ve lost “traditional gatekeepers” who would typically be backed by expertise. In this new world, anyone can say anything, with a decay of the line between professionals and amateurs. The best tool to address this would be critical thinking, but with the lack of attention and time we dedicate to informative content, it’s challenging to assess it meaningfully. A lack of systemic validation of information-givers and individual validation of their veracity leads to people (me) believing things as they are said and spreading newfound wisdom (potential lies) mindlessly.
Something I’ve noticed as I’ve entered my clinical years of medicine is that, irrespective of the specialty, curiosity is outwardly valued. A neurologist told me that you must be curious of the brain’s inner workings to ever get the correct diagnosis. A microbiologist said the only way to learn the lists of antibiotics was to have curiosity toward their indications. I see this belief on the other end of the medical student life cycle: personal statements, where aspiring medics champion the power of curiosity in a medical career. Curiosity is the spark that lets the matchstick of medical knowledge strike the coal of a patient’s dilemma. If you want fire, you have to think about the why, the how, the really? I fear that curiosity is an endangered resource for the medical students who sit in between the two stages of writing personal statements and making diagnoses. Here, we’re too focused on a system that supports rote learning and question banks to dedicate the careful time and thought that curious learning requires.
My two concepts come together quite synergistically - the world supplies us with too much information to question and we slowly unlearn the curiosity that defines our passions and interests as humans. I think the only antidote is to relearn that curiosity, actively bringing it to the forefront of your day-to-day. When the world plants a TikTok in front of you, ask, how true is this? How can I find out more? Does this sound right? But that’s hard to do when you’re busy, so maybe the other solution is to be more conscious of your spending in the “public market of information”. Rather than spend it all on the sugar-rich treats at the door, take the longer walk up to the fancy place that has smaller sizes, but lasting taste. When we think of the economy of time we often focus on our responsibilities, but the time we spend recreationally deserves similar scrutiny.
I’m probably still going to use TikTok, and you probably will too. I don’t think it’s a demon to avoid, but I do worry about the number of people I told about belly buttons without even looking it up. I’m sure there is some strong anecdotal evidence behind it, and maybe in a few years there’ll be real research to write about. But the beast I’ve found myself in today is threatening a far greater impact on society. It’s the apathy that swiftly lures us into misinformation and mishap. So I vote that we let curiosity kill the cat and hope that satisfaction can bring it back.
Read the rest of the edition here
