Got a hernioplasty done this morning. A plug & patch on a direct inguinal hernia. I now know that feels like getting kicked in the gut by a mule. But this ain't the worst part. The worst part was prior to the operation. I'm waiting (bored), I'm cold (why do these places always feel like they keep it in the low 40's), I'm hungry (nothing by mouth after midnight), I have nothing but a gown, open in the back, to wear (I've been known to show my a$$ once in a while, but this is ridiculous), I have a headache (I'm doing that caffeine withdrawal thing), and because of all this I'm cranky, and everybody around is smiling and bubbly which makes me even more cranky. We wait, and do a little of this and wait, and a little of that and wait, and a something else and wait. And finally we wheel down the hall and into the OR. I shift onto the cleaning table (AKA bait cutting board), and right after I do that someone must have slipped a mickey into my IV tube. Next thing I know I'm waking up in the recovery room with the nurse keeping a watch on me saying, "Wow! You're awake early."

I look over at the what appears to be a fancy bottom machine she's looking at and ask, "48... is that my resting heart rate?"

"Yep, that's your resting heart rate," she replies.

I figure that's not too bad... for a smoker.

We wait some more. Right about the time my IV empties I ask to go to the bathroom. The IV is empty so I also ask if I can go home.

"I can't let you go until you go to the bathroom. If you don't go I will have to start another IV."

Well by Gawd I'm on a MISSION now. I will be going to the bathroom.

Wooo-Hooo, I'm a free man.

I get in the car, wife driving, kids in the back. I suck down a Camel Non-Filter. I just about guzzle a 20 oz. Coke. I smoke another Camel Non-Filter. I drink another Coke. I smoke another Camel. The wife is worried. My son is completely unconcerned. "If he hasn't had a problem by now, he's not going to."

I begin to feel great, except for being sore. We get home and I get something to eat and I feel better than great.

Now that it's all over except for the healing, I have no problem with going back to TMH if I ever need another procedure done. Excellent care.

And I still feel like I got kicked in the gut by a mule.

So just how does one go about making all this necessary?
You sneeze.
You sneeze one time. You sneeze one time hard enough to blow your guts out.

Then of course you put the operation off for 2 months because you have two upcoming tournaments you don't want to miss.
And it crosses your mind to delay things until after scallop season, but decide that might be pushing it.

And you don't do jack-diddly-squat in either T, so you might as well have gone on and done the operation.