Do I really want to know?

It is often said, “ignorance is bliss”.  Is that true?  I guess it depends on what you’re ignorant about.  When I snuggle into my ever-shrinking coach seat for my uncomfortable flight, I want to know the pilot is well-informed and qualified to get me, and occasionally my luggage, to my destination safely.  When I am ill, I don’t want my doctor to be in the dark, I want her to make me better based on knowledge and skill, and when I am faced with the annual distraction of completing my overly complicated tax return, I would prefer my tax accountant to be current on the tax laws when they ask me to sign it. As you might imagine, there are countless examples where the “experts” need to know what they are doing when they provide their service.  There is nothing blissful about being uninformed when the stakes are high. 

By contrast my thirty-year-old son has grown fond of telling me stories of his high school days that make me cringe.  I don’t know if it is a misguided form of catholic guilt he learned as a student in his Jesuit high school, or some sick attempt to clue me in on all the mishaps, or potential disasters he avoided some fifteen years ago.  I don’t know his motivation, but I am certain I would rather not know what happened.  Put me in the camp on this one that ignorance is bliss.  I didn’t want to know all the details of his life when he was a teenager, and I am sure I don’t want to relive them now. 

I gave my son a clear mandate when he was leaning into his reckless years, “don’t kill anyone, and don’t create anyone.”  Happy to report he accomplished that simple request.  All the other specifics of his learning years are best left behind.

The more I think about it, the continuum of whether it is better to know more or stay clueless seems obvious when outlined with the above parameters.  But what about a situation where it might be in your best interest to do something hard, and knowing the truth about what lies ahead would keep you from doing it.  It brings to mind the old adage, “if I had known it was going to be this hard, I wouldn’t have done it.”  Life is full of circumstances that portend a tough path with the promise of a great reward.  It begs the question; how do you best approach those opportunities?

Starting a business is rewarding and can be personally and financially impactful.  It is also often hard as hell and the sacrifices that are required typically aren’t known when you start.  Would a new entrepreneur be better off knowing what was coming so they could prepare themselves or are they better served to start out with an uncompromised enthusiasm that blinds them to the struggles ahead?  I honestly don’t know the answer and suspect it depends on the individual.  We are all different and some are moved to act with more data and others ready to proceed completely in the dark. 

I have been considering where I fit on this need-to-know scale over the last week as I rest on the physical therapist table trying to recover from the abuse delivered to my knee.  Two weeks ago, I had a total knee replacement.  I had no idea what in the world I was in for.  Well, that’s not true; I was told, but in my infinite wisdom, I chose to ignore or dismiss all the warnings of how much pain was coming and how hard the recovery was going to be.  All I internalized was the constant refrain of people telling me this was going to be a life changer.

Imagine my surprise when immediately released from the hospital, I was confronted with my new reality; the three P’s, peeing, pooping, and pain.  Things had become simple for me.  I had to figure out how to do the first two and to stop the third one. 

And the pain was ridiculous.  After surgery I was reminded that this procedure was “brutal and barbaric.”  How could I not have prepared myself for this, before the big day?  In hindsight I had practiced my own version of being blissfully ignorant.

Rest assured after it was too late and the staples were in my knee, I became attentive to every detail that was said.  No longer did I want to remain clueless, I wanted to know everything.  I was told how long the pain would last (too long), how intense the PT was going to be (unbearable), how limited I would be for the next few days (see the three P’s).  I was hearing my new reality and experiencing it by the minute. 

As I whimpered in the corner from the ever-increasing pain, I began to question why I had done this.  When it seemed like I would drop into the emotional abyss, I reminded myself of the promised benefits.  But admittedly, that wasn’t helping; it was hard to see the future when I couldn’t handle the present.

And then I spoke with a friend who told me she had had two knee replacements.  “Two,” I responded incredulously.  “Were you not hesitant to have the second surgery with the knowledge gleaned from the first experience?”  She laughed and said, “I had my first child and that was painful beyond description, but it didn’t stop me from having two more.”  I guess the look on my face showed my confusion, so she continued, “The first delivery was awful, but my little girl became the apple of my eye.  She was so wonderful, I forgot how much pain she caused and went for number two and then number three.  The bad memories quickly fade when replaced with all the joy.  My knee replacement was no different.”

That’s it; time has a way of dulling the painful memories and replacing them with happy thoughts.  There is hope.  Regardless of what your expectations are, followed by any hard times you might experience, we are generally wired to find the good and shine in that, as opposed to dwelling in misery. 

In the end, maybe it is best we are ignorant about certain things.  Without the benefit of truly knowing exactly how good life will become with a new knee, and with complete knowledge of the darkness that was about to happen, I might not have moved forward.  And that would have been silly.  Sacrificing for something greater should be a standard for humans to aspire to.  With that drive, I concluded, I can handle this.

My friend gave me perspective.  It is nice when someone can do that and when we are ready to receive it.  Two knee replacements, three childbirths, no problem; look at all the good that came from it.  I like the analogy.  I also like knowing that having a knee replacement is a lot cheaper over twenty years than having a baby.  So, in this twisted comparison I won the lottery. 

Ignorance is bliss and fighting through tough times is rewarding.  That’s why if I ever need to replace my other knee, like so many people out there, I will do it.

And I will pretend I don’t know what is about to happen.