So it’s now 10 days until I have my incisional hernia operation. I must say it isn’t 10 days too late that’s for sure. I can’t wait to get this sorted out. I’ve had some pain over the weekend but I think it’s more to do with “over doing” it than anything else.
The pre-op appointment went well, pretty much everything that was explained to me I already either knew about or was at least expecting to talk about. The only real surprise was the need for a blood test. I am happy to report that the nurse that did the test was exceptional and I didn’t feel anything which is always good. Sometimes when someone tried to take my blood, my veins go on holiday and they end up either using something designed for children who can’t sit still, or the medical equivalent of a Martian feeding tube from War of the Worlds. This time though I think it was down to the skill of the Nurse, and my veins deciding for once that they would co-operate.
So anyway, here I am with a belly which looks like a screen test for the next Alien film, what with the strange lump sticking out the front which makes my belly look like it’s pointed. Every now and then I feel a deep stinging pain followed by a burning sensation which feels to me like my stomach muscles are slowly ripping apart in the quest to spill my hundreds of feet of small intestines all over my shoes.
The fact that I’ve been warned off both lifting and straining, and I’ve been advised to keep driving down to essential journeys only has made me both irritable and frustrated. I’m not too fussed about the driving, it’s the not being able to lift anything heavier than my own arms, or stretch much that is doing my head in. When I have a 3 year old standing at the side of the bed at 2am in the morning and all he wants to do is climb into bed with us because he’s woken up and scared of the dark, and I can’t lift him up, or carry him back to his own bed makes me feel like a bit of a failure to be honest. I know it’s for the best, and that once the repair work has been done and healed that I can resume normal activities, but at the same time it does feel like I have taken a step back, well more like a few yards back, in my recovery. In a word… Rubbish.
Well there you have it, almost 1 year on since the big operation I am scheduled to go have another one. I might be coming across a bit upset about this but in reality I’m not. I see this as just another part of my journey and I am still very very lucky to be here amongst the living. So in the scale of things, I’m not in a bad place really.
What’s made things easier is the fact that Mr Karim will be doing the operation along with the Anaesthetist from my previous operation. This is the guy who told me he was about to give me a half a bottle of whiskey to make me go to sleep…. Good man!!
The overall recovery plan, at this time, is basically 1 week off work to recover form the effects of Mr Karim playing around with my insides and Mr Anaesthetist giving me the worlds worst (but very cheap) hangover. I then have to refrain for any lifting, stretching, or straining for a further 5 weeks. Driving will be a big issue for up to a month after the operation due to the way that the combination of seat belt location, arm and leg movements, and the chance that an emergency stop could make the inside of my windscreen look like someone had just thrown all the sausages in Tescos, along with a healthy dose of ketchup, across my dashboard.
Anyway I’ll leave you with that thought.