Hernia surgery

First of all, I want to say thank you to all who have been keeping me in your prayers. Don't stop them yet! I still have days of recovery ahead of me- so please keep praying! For those wondering what I'm talking about, let me explain.

I went to the doctor a few weeks ago about a bulge I found below my waist. It didn't hurt, but it was uncomfortable and looked like it didn't belong there. So, I scheduled an appointment and went on in. Upon inspection, we discovered two hernias, not just one! As soon as I lifted my shirt, the doctor said, "WHOA! You have another one right there in your belly button."

Great. what did THAT mean?

Well, it simply meant that I could get two for the price of one (and that I have some bad hernia DNA in my family somewhere). Instead of waiting 4-5 years to get it fixed, he could patch up both hernias in one sitting. So, we scheduled the surgery for 2 weeks later- July 9th (which was last Wednesday morning).

Now, my birthday was only a month ago and I think to myself. "Self, are you already falling apart on me? You get a kidney stone at Winterfest and now this!?! Did my warranty expire or something? What exactly is God trying to tell me here?"

So, the morning came. Vicki, Genna, and I got up early and drove over to the hospital where I was to be cut upon. I'll be honest and say that I was a little nervous about this. I am VOLUNTARILY going to have someone wheel me into a large white room and then ALLOW doctors to hack away at me all while I am sleeping? Hmmm . . . . . notsomuch.

A little before 9AM, they call my name and I go in to be "prepped". The definition of "prepped" at a surgical center means this: You take all your clothes and put on that scrubs-ish looking cover and a hairnet. Then, they shave wherever they need to cut on you (This was just a tad uncomfortable for me). Next, they hook up any IV's that you need and then they call the family in to say their "goodbyes" and "good lucks". I was actually doing ok through all of this until I saw Genna. When she saw me in that bed with the "hospital wear" on and the IV's out of my hand, she got this troubled look on her face. Then she looked right at me and said, "Daddy?" That face broke my heart. She kept saying, "Daddy? Daddy?" over and over as if to say, "What are you doing to my dad? I don't like this!"

Tears welled up in my eyes and I couldn't hold it in. I started crying right there.

"Daddy's going to go sleep so he can feel better." Vicki said.

"Seepin. Better. Daddy." Genna replied, still unsure of what was happening.

They wheeled me into that large white room I had imagined earlier. They put a mask over my face and said, "Breathe 3-4 good breaths for me".

I don't think I got through three.

I awoke a couple of hours later with two new future scars all bandaged up and ready to go. Genna and Vicki came in and we shared hugs all around. With pain meds in hand, they wheeled me to the car to go home.

For the next few days, I am supposed to take really easy and let my body tell me when I am ready for more movement. So, I have my laptop, a couple of good books, the Xbox 360, and the TV to keep me busy for the next week or so. I've been catching upon movies I haven't seen yet (the Golden Compass . . . a little disappointing seeing as there was so much hype about it) and blogs I haven't read in a while. So, drop me a line and say hello if you get some time. Chances are: I'll be around!

Again, please keep me in your prayers. We love you guys!

-chris