I mentioned in a previous blog post about how I was trying to get in to see my doctor for an assessment. I did, and was diagnosed with a hernia. I now have an appointment with a surgeon.
For a week from tomorrow.
At the appointment, he will say, "Yep, that's a hernia all right." and we will schedule some surgery. There will be a delay between the confirmed diagnosis and the actual surgery to repair this. How long of a delay?
I can feel my intestines lubbing around as they slip in and out of the hole that's been torn in the muscles of my abdominal wall. Imagine a paper cut, one of those long, deep paper cuts, the kind with the ragged edges. Now imagine someone is trying to shove a greased dime through that cut from the inside out, worming and forcing that thing outward from the torn flesh beneath the cut.
With every step you take, it goes bounce, bounce, bounce, and with every bounce, the edges of the cut get torn just a little wider.
My upper lip is not sweating with the effort of handling the pain. Not yet. But my breathing gets a little shallow after I do intense physical activity.
Intense physical activity used to mean, "finish up a three mile run with a 200 yard sprint".
Now, intense physical activity means "stupidly forget my condition and take the stairs two at a time, like I used to".
Every few minutes, I have to reach down and slip my fingers into my waistband, covering the upper part of my pubic area, reaching for that bulging mounded spot, so I can ease my intestines back up into my abdomen.
The sluppering fluttery feeling as things slide more or less back into place is... disturbing.
The next week is going to be character-building, I can tell... a real opportunity to practice restraint and forbearance.