Newbies to the Hernia Club are frequently barking up the wrong tree once they decide it is time for surgery and keenly focus on the surgery itself to the exclusion of the healing process.
I will not review differing surgical approaches here as they are amply discussed on the internet.
It is perfectly natural to have qualms, misgivings or fears about hernia surgery.
How long will it take? What anesthesia will be used? Will I be compelled to stay in the hospital or surgical centre overnight? What are all the protocols and procedures involved? Is there any modicum of decency offered being sprawled out in all your glory on the operating table. What is the great “comforting” physician line, “No worries. We’ve seen it all before!” As a patient should we retort, “Well you may have seen it all before but I haven’t seen you seeing it all this time when I am on the table. I am not part of all in this theatre. I am me.”
My experience with an open repair surgery for an inguinal hernia transpired without incident. Prepped by a nurse with an IV and wheeled in the secret corridors of Sunnybrook Hospital in Toronto. An exclusive VIP tour!
Met anesthetist at the door of the operating theatre so kindly asking me if I would like to have a wee bit of a sedative to take the edge off. That went well and a brief meeting with the surgeon who promised me he would take good care of me and shave me down there right after the general anesthesia administered so I wouldn’t have to watch those who have seen it all before watching me.
A mask over my face and 90 minutes later in a surgical recovery ward waking up enormously grateful it “was all over”. Best part no headache and no nausea but a nasty sore throat. My spirit said, “Let’s do a victory dance!”. My body replied, “Easy there fellah!”
A couple of passes by the nurse asking what is your pain level out of ten. It was a measly 4! A couple of jabs of hydromorphone quickly reduced that to “Who cares”. I refused a third jab as I felt fit as a fiddle. A victory pee, ensuring waterworks in order. Boy that’s a nasty looking incision there but smaller than I anticipated.
A slow dress up with no help other than my son assisting me putting on my socks.
A trip home with a damn sore throat worsening. Those tubes down your throat.
Concerned familial quips of “You need to rest!” fell on deaf ears. The pain was constant but far from overwhelming. The best relief from the pain was movement so I walked around the house regularly like a hamster on a wheel.
Strangely ebullient I was. It’s done! Let a condemned man enjoy his last moments of delusion. The Great Hernia Adventure was only beginning.
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