on the table and screaming

Immobility is, to me, one of life's most frustrating hurdles. Rarely has it reared it's head in my fortunate existence, the most recent - and devestating - having been a severely herniated disk in my back acquired on or around July 4th, 2004. Was Larry's boat really at fault? Perhaps. I see nowhere else to throw the blame. Months of agony from simple acts of walking around or leaning over to wash my face were to follow. Visits to an orthpedic surgeon and an insanely loud MRI machine lead to the revelation of the source of my pain. And the unfortunate analysis that basically nothing but time itself would help heal the injury. Overly dramatic diagnoses that I would "never run again" were fortunately misguided.

In recent months I started to develop more obvious symptoms of an injury I had had for quite some time. A sharp pain the lower abdomen after a big meal. A strained groin/abdominal muscle during an uphill running session. A seemingly unending dull pain in my right testiscle, as if someone were dangling a silver dollar from it. I had noted mild discomfort in this area months, of not years, earlier, but it had always subsided rather quickly. This time, it didn't seem to be going away.

Thanks to the scarily large quanitity of medical information available on the internet, I was able to rapidly diagnos my own condition as an inguinal hernia, a slight tear in the muscles of the abdominal wall. A small muscle tear - calf, hamgstring, shoulder, etc., had never worried me much in the past. But this was different. Hernias, I read, never healed on their own, and only got worse over time. A saw my general practitioner to get his take on the matter, then consulted a specialist at Swedish Hospital in Seattle. Both confirmed everything I already thought I knew. Not wanting to take any chances, I scheduled a surgery for March 3rd, since I had been previously advised by Colleen that I wasn't allowed to have any procedures performed on my before February 26th (In order, I later learned, to avoid ruining the Las Vegas Birthday Experience).

Surgery turns out to be quite the assembly line. I interacted with no less than ten people who worked at the hospital in my brief 2 hours of conciousness there. Most were quite pleasant, and I was thankful that the couple in the curtained off area directly next to mine in the pre-surgery waiting room spoke only Korean. While there is a morbid curiousity about what all these other people are 'in for,' I've learned that some things are best left unsaid.

The experience felt like a death march of sorts, being lead in full hospital regalia (including slippers!) by various middle aged women with various handicaps that prevented them from walking normally. The anaesthesiologist looked at me slightly disappointedly after taking my health history, realizing I was fine, and informing that, unfortunately, "It sounds like we're going to have to operate on you." Dr. Horton reassured me about the simplicity of the procedure before I was marched down to the refrigerator they refer to as OR4. I don't even really remember dozing off, just acknowledging that I was in fact starting to feel a little dizzy and felt the room spinning very slowly.

Upon waking up, I was offered a muffin, some apple juice, and shortly thereafter, my own clothes to change back into. I had less trouble walking and standing than I thought I would, but that was partially because I was still heavily medicated. Colleen picked me up and delivered me home, where I've alternated taking pain medicine, drinking chocolate milk, and attempting to walk around a little bit for the last 60 hours. She's taken better care of me than I normally take of myself, and I'm hoping to just sleep through the day tomorrow while she's away at work. All in all recovery seem to be going okay. I haven't taken any pain meds for the last 10 hours and it's pretty bearable. Lying down seems to be the most comfortable, standing still the least. I'm hoping walking gets easier in a day or two. I'll keep you posted.