Tummy Tuck?

Tummy tuck?  No.  Did I finally got that prosthetic cotton belly-button that I have always been craving?  No.  A double C-section?  No.  Triple hernia surgery?  Yes.  The surgeon went in and found two more than he was expecting.  They knew that I had an umbilical/belly-button hernia, but when they got in there they found two more hernias.  After an 'Air Mishap' that occurred six weeks ago on a flight from Minneapolis to New Orleans as well as countless flare-ups over the years, I knew I had hernias that eventually needed to be fixed.  I have complained about it at every routine check-up for the last 30 years.  After years of turning my head and coughing while he/she plays with my balls though, they still always told me that I did not have a hernia other than in my belly-button.

It all started in about 8th or 9th grade.  I was participating in the Presidential Fitness Challenge at school where you had to do a series of events in gym class like push ups and pull ups and running and stuff.  When you reach certain goals you get points, with the eventual goal of getting the Presidential Physical Fitness Award patch.  One day in gym class I was doing the sit-ups test when suddenly I felt a weird pain down in my gut.  I lifted my shirt up and there was a golf-ball sized lump sticking up out of my stomach!  What the hell?!  I took a quick look around to see if anybody noticed, and then pushed it back in.  I was embarrassed and thought I was some sort of a freak.  I had no idea what had happened and did not tell anybody about it.

The last straw (we'll call it 'Air Mishap #7') was Friday, 1/17/14 while on board a flight from Minneapolis to New Orleans to see my favorite band the Radiator's now-annual anniversary gigs at Tipitinas.  As a private pilot I am of course fascinated by flying and always have to have the window seat.  So we were rolling down the runway on take-off and I was the third seat in sitting next to two strangers.  I was leaning forward looking out the window when suddenly it happened...a hernia on my left side popped out.

Normally when that happens I just stand up, arch my back as much as I can, push the thing back in my stomach and I'm good.  But this was not normal.  I was in an airliner lifting off the ground at 160 mph, my seat in the forward-upright position and the overhead bin directly above my head.  I could not stand up or arch my back, so I just pressed on the bulge and hung on for dear life.  The pain was immense.  It felt like someone's fist was in my stomach grabbing and twisting my intestines.  I could feel the muscles moving around and when I lifted my shirt to look I could see my skin rippling and undulating.  It looked like there was an alien in me trying to claw it's way out.

For about 5 minutes I fought with the hernia and stared at the red flight-attendant call button overhead.  Was my hernia strangulating?  Was I going to have to make the plane turn around and land back in Minneapolis?  Would I be on the news?  Could I do that?  There was no way I could endure this for 2 hours.  Sweating and gritting my teeth and wondering what I should do, it finally stopped all of a sudden.  Phew!  No more leaning forward to look out the window for the rest of the trip...and I knew I had to get this thing fixed soon.

The surgery was set for Friday morning, 2/21/14, and I had to be at the hospital at 6:10am.  Due to the blizzard that Minneapolis got hammered with the previous 16 hours, I got up at 4:30am to blow the 12" of fresh snow out of my driveway so I could get to the hospital.  It was actually several feet deep over much of the driveway due to the high winds and drifting snow.  I threw out my back in the process but managed to finish by 5:30am, leaving just enough time for a quick shower and off to the hospital.  I was not supposed to eat or drink anything before the surgery, but I drank some shower water without thinking.  Habit.  On the third big gulp though I remembered and spat it out.

I could barely walk due to my bad back, but I shuffled into the hospital and began the process.  I got naked, donned the blue paper dress, had meetings with nurses, vital signs taken, belly shaved, met the anesthesiologist, IV installed in my hand, doctor came in and drew circles on my stomach, and then they finally led me to the operating room.  I was actually looking forward to the surgery so that my back could get some relief from the follow-up pain meds.  They strapped me down on what resembled a cross and the next thing I knew it was a couple hours later and they were waking me up.  Very strange losing time instantly like that.  I thought about my anesthesiologist friend Cire Wonhsak.

That was a week ago.  The pain pills helped for the three days that I stayed on them, but the back pain is still there and my front side feels like the Minnesota Vikings have relocated their new stadium site to my stomach and have started construction on it.  Also, after a couple of days the bruising and blood in my abdomen began migrating south to my nether regions.  Yes, my penis and balls are purple and swollen.  Normally I wear boxers, but I needed more support so I had to send my wife Nadia out to the store to buy me some Fruit Of The Loom briefs.

I went to lunch with Mitch Marshall and Ted Booker yesterday at Joey “mother*cking” D's.  It is a greasy Chicago-style hot dog/pizza joint on the south-side of Minneapolis.  With the abdominal bloating and constipation I figured their food would clear me right out.  I have seen better men than me taken down hard by Joey D’s though, so when it came time to order I chickened out and just went with a bland burger and fries.  It was great seeing my best buds, except hanging with those two always means a lot of laughs which kills a guy with stomach stitches.  Love hurts.

All in all though surgery is not so bad.  No more hernias I hope, and now I need to decide what to fix next.  The nerve damage in my left elbow from a drinking accident that leaves my fingers numb whenever I bend my arm for very long...or the torn rotator cuff and labrum in my right shoulder I got from playing softball...or the torn lateral meniscus in my right knee that I got from playing kickball.  It's hell being 47 years old and falling apart.  But maybe if I hold out long enough I can get some bionic parts!  I loved The Six Million Dollar Man when I was kid...so awesome...I always wanted to be that man, going on OSI missions with Jaime Sommers and hanging with our bionic dog Max.