Trego's Mountain Ear

At 7:00 am, January 2, I was on my way for surgery to correct an inguinal hernia. I had the options of wait and watch or get it fixed. I couldn’t find any record of hernias healing themselves, and getting it fixed required one morning for surgery and six weeks without lifting more than 20 pounds – which a kindly nurse assured me was like a gallon of milk.

I figured the surgery wouldn’t be easier if I aged and the hernia got bigger – the only real win for waiting and watching is if I were to die before I needed surgery. I made my bet on living – after Valentine’s day I’ll be back running the sawmill and working on remodeling the Service Station. The remodeling goes on hold until I can lift again – but January and February are months of short days. Surgery near the solstice has it’s own logic.

They told me to show up in loose clothes – so I showed up in my fat man jeans – 36 waist with suspenders to keep ’em up instead of a belt snugged tight on the 34 denims. Roads were a bit dicey going in – not particularly slick, but ruts in the snow/slush. Still, a whole lot better going in than going home – the medical establishment has this belief that I’m better off with my wife driving for the first 24 hours after surgery, while the narcotics wear off. It’s possible that they’re right. Either way, I’m home and starting my restful recuperation. Hopefully, I have the year’s surgical visits completed.

All told, I’m a great believer in the American medical experience. I admit that the final experience is likely to be disappointing – but so far the folks who wear the caduceus have been very good to me.