The following is an account of my hernia surgery. I’m putting it on-line because when I was searching the web to find any information on the procedure or to hear about other people’s experiences, all I found were horror stories of how much pain people had gone through and/or are still living through. Well, my story is a happy one, so I wanted to share it with any other hernia-burdened men out there. It probably won’t interest most people, but if you are interested, read on.
On August 19th, I had inguinal hernia repair surgery. This was both sudden and a long time coming. Sudden in that it happened almost as soon as I decided to do something about it, and a long time coming in that my hernia and I have been together longer than my wife and I have (and Erin and I started dating 15 years ago).
Due to lax athletic requirements during my teenage years and a general disinterest in sports by me, my hernia was able to exist undetected by all but myself until I felt the desire to tell anyone. And of course, as a stupid kid, I didn’t want to tell anyone because that would mean that I would have to have surgery. And as a stupid kid, I pretty much feared the idea of surgery more than death.
So I kept it secret. When I got married, I told my wife. Then I continued to maintain the status quo and do nothing about it.
As the years went by, my hernia gradually got larger and more annoying. I researched different types of hernia repair surgery, but all methods claimed that all other methods were horrible. I was afraid to talk to a local doctor because I figured A) they’d talk me into a particular method just because it was the method they were familiar with and B) they’d want me to have the surgery done at my local hospital. I wasn’t going to let either of those things happen.
Meanwhile, my wife was struggling with her thyroid problems, and finally had it removed by a surgeon at Mercy Hospital in Oklahoma City that was recommended to her by her endocrinologist. The surgeon’s name was James Totoro. Yes. Totoro like the Japanese anime, except pronounced ToTOro instead of TOtoro.
Dr. Totoro was very kind and proved himself to be incredibly skilled. Erin’s scar looked like it had been through a year of healing after about one week, and she suffered none of the potential complications associated with the surgery. So, seeing what a good job he had done with her and that he was a general surgeon who frequently performed hernia operations, I viewed this opportunity as providential. When he asked if we had any questions at Erin’s post-op visit, I told him about my hernia. He looked at it, referred to it jokingly as “A keeper”, and told me to let him know when I wanted to get rid of it.
What followed was the cathartic experience of telling my family and friends about this condition I had kept secret for so long. Then, on the morning of August 19th, Erin and I drove to The Surgery Center in Oklahoma City. I was surprised to find out how calm I was. I think at this point I was more excited just to be getting it over with. Getting the IV (my first ever) was painless, as they applied a local anesthetic before inserting it. Then they wheeled my bed down the hall and through a door labeled OR 4. “This is it,” I thought as I read the sign.
I never knew just how cold they keep operating rooms. After moving myself to the table, people on both sides were strapping things to my arms and fingers. As I looked up at the light, I smiled and thought, “Well, Lord, this is it. Live or die, I’m in your hands.” It felt good to know that this was my honest reaction when facing my own mortality.
The anesthesiologist walked up with a huge tube filled with a milky liquid. He told me he was going to put it into my IV and I’d be out in 20 seconds. He also said that some people felt pain as it went up their arm, but most just felt a cold sensation. I said, “Oh, yeah, that is cold”, then stared up at the light, waiting for it. I’ve always been curious about being rendered unconscious, and this was the moment for me to find out. My vision started blurring; I felt myself sinking down into the table. The sounds of talking in the room began to slur together and I smelled and tasted something strange. I believe I managed to say “Whoa” before I lost consciousness.
The next thing I recall is hearing a woman ask me if I’d like a Sprite, Dr. Pepper, or a Coke to drink, and what my pain level was on a scale of 1 to 10. I have no idea how many times she had already asked me or how many times I heard her say it before I responded.
“Coke. Five,” I said. I don’t recall actually feeling any pain, but I figured I’d better not let them think I was ready to walk out of the place.
They brought me a 20 ounce Styrofoam cup of Coke and a bowl of club crackers, which they said I had to eat some of before I could take the pain pill I earned for giving a “five” response. I don’t remember really seeing anything but the bowl and the Coke in the “Phase 1” recovery room, but I ate, drank, and took the pill. Then they wheeled me into the “Phase 2” recovery room where they put me in a recliner and said I could see my wife.
Erin says I smiled and said “I love you” as soon as they brought her into the room, so I’ll take her word for it. I personally don’t remember anything but the happiness I felt from the drugs and for having made it this far. I ate all of my crackers and drank all of my Coke, and never felt even a twinge of nausea. Erin pulled the car around, they wheeled me out to it, and we left.
Erin and I talked the whole way home, but I would occasionally nod of suddenly. It was weird. We stopped at McDonalds in Norman and I ate a hamburger and large fries. I was still feeling no pain.
We got home, and I settled in on the sofa. Then an ironic realization hit me: The day I had been dreading for more than half of my life had finally arrived, and it had actually been rather enjoyable. I’d even go so far as to call it “fun.”
Part of what helped my surgery to be so painless was the fact that I came home with an On-Q Painbuster attached to me. This consisted of a small tube inserted a few inches above my incision, wound and taped in several places to keep me from accidentally pulling it out, and connected to a tennis ball sized balloon clipped to my pants. The balloon was filled with 100ccs of Marcaine which it administered directly to the incision area at a rate of 2ccs an hour. Because of this, I felt little pain unless I was standing and walking, and even then the pain was minor.
Two days later on Sunday morning, I woke up to find the balloon deflated. At noon – per Dr. Totoro’s orders – I pulled out the tube. Watching myself pull about 3 inches of tubing out of a hole in my abdomen made me a little queasy, but I didn’t actually feel a thing.
The worst part of my whole recovery was probably the day after my surgery. I was running a fever of about 100 all day (as was expected), and feeling generally lousy because of it.
I did have some significant *ahem* swelling and bruising for a few days, but this didn’t cause any pain. The most pain I ever felt during my recovery was due to laughter. And to make it worse, it was like laughing during a prayer in church. Because you know you shouldn’t be doing it, it’s that much more difficult to stop.
The best part of the surgery was the “optional” pain medication I was given: Hydrocodone. Now, don’t get all preachy on me about it being a narcotic and how its addictive qualities have ruined many a life. The bottle said I could take two every 3 to 4 hours if I wanted to, and I just took one before my shower and one at bedtime.
It became my daily ritual to take one Hydrocodone pill at about 11:00 AM, take a shower, and then lay in bed napping, relaxing, and feeling all-around groovy until about 5:00. I really think the euphoric aspect of the medication was an important part of my recovery, because I always got up feeling happy and relaxed afterwards.
So, after ten days of taking it easy at home, I returned to work (Monday, August 29th). I had some difficulty standing up straight and walking without a limp, but all of the exercise really helped speed my recovery. At this point I have no pain at all unless I laugh really hard or roll over in bed.
If you’re going through or will be going through a similar situation, feel free to ask me any questions you have.
Dave on pain pills? I'm sorry I missed this... ;)
When I had my hand broken in the car wreck they had given me Tylenol 3, which is supposed to be good stuff, but I never took it. Like you, I was so worried about everybody saying people getting addicted to pain pills that I never wanted to try it for fear of doing so. Of course, had I realized that I don't have an addictive personality, I would have realized I would have been fine.
Anyway, glad to hear you're doing well. I bet pulling that tube out would have really been odd. Hope to see you soon!
Posted by: Jay | September 09, 2005 at 12:02 PM
The question was asked of me, "How do you know if you have a hernia?"
A hernia, if you find it early on, is just a slight bulge in your groin, just above your "equipment". It would be either on the left or the right side, not in the middle. It will probably get bigger when you strain like you're trying to go to the bathroom.
If you've ignored it for a long time, like I did mine, you will notice a lump coming down into your scrotum. That's actually part of your intestines going through a weak spot in your groin muscle.
If you're at all athletic, you should have it taken care of soon. I'm just a lazy video gamer, but I still shouldn't have ignored it for as long as I did. The surgery was really no big deal. I'd recommend finding a surgeon that will give you the On-Q Painbuster that I had, though. I almost felt no pain at all.
If anybody has any other questions, please feel free to ask me!
Posted by: SuperPope | September 23, 2005 at 08:44 PM