Do the Hard Thing

Sometimes you have to operate on yourself. Nobody else is coming to help you.

Sometimes You Have to Operate

In 1961, a 27-year-old Soviet doctor named Leonid Rogozov boarded a boat headed for Antarctica.

He was part of a small expedition team tasked with setting up a research station near the edge of the world—where the winds cut like knives and the nearest hospital was literally on another continent.

He was the only physician on base.

Everything was going fine until April 29, when Rogozov spiked a fever, started vomiting, and felt a sharp pain in his lower right abdomen. He knew the symptoms instantly.

Appendicitis.

It was bad. If the appendix burst, it could kill him. Fast.

But evacuation was impossible. Planes couldn’t reach them through the worsening polar storm. There was no other doctor. No hospital. No airlift.

Just him. And a mirror.

So Leonid Rogozov sterilized his instruments, propped himself up in a tilted position, and instructed a meteorologist and a driver—two guys with no medical training—to hand him tools and hold the mirror so he could see what he was doing.

Then he cut himself open.

Without anesthesia—just local numbing—he made the incision, located the inflamed appendix, and removed it with trembling hands.

At one point, he nearly passed out from the pain. But he took a break, steadied himself, and kept going.

Two hours later, it was done.
He sewed himself back up.
And within two weeks, he was back on his feet, treating others again.

When he returned to the Soviet Union, he was honored as a hero. He went on to become a professor of medicine and Chief Surgeon at the Research Institute for Tuberculosis in St. Petersburg—where he trained other doctors and performed hundreds, maybe thousands, of surgeries. Lives saved because one man had the courage to endure what no one else could do for him.

He didn’t just survive.
He became a healer.
And then—a mentor.

That’s the point.

You may be facing something painful today.
Something you’d honestly rather avoid—maybe even something you’d rather take out your own appendix than deal with.

A hard conversation.
A major change.
Admitting an addiction.
Telling the truth to someone.
Telling the truth to yourself.

And you’re not wrong to want help. Life is communal. We get by with the help of our friends. And when you go through something hard, you should absolutely find people to support you. People to hold the mirror. To reach for the scalpel.

But they can’t make the cut.
Only you can do that.

Nobody else can do this one for you.

And on the other side of that pain—after a season of healing—is where your big story begins.

Do the hard thing.
Not just for yourself.
But for the hundreds—or thousands—of people your courage might one day ripple out and touch.