August 2024: So, last week I had hernia repair surgery. Three areas of torn muscle were taken care of… at least that is what I have been told. My brother said I had caught up to him at this point as he has had three surgeries for three different tears, including one when he was 6 or 7 years old. I guess I just continue to be very efficient.
The surgery instructions said to dress comfortably. So, I thought khaki pants and a white collared long sleeve shirt would work. I guess I was wrong because when we arrived in the surgical waiting area, most everyone was wearing shorts and tee shirts. And of course, the tees included a fair amount of advertising. I guess given the hour of the morning (5:30 am), dressing to impress was put on the back-burner by many.
We arrived on time (probably a bit earlier than that) and were checked in within just a few minutes. A very kind woman started the process and graciously expressed surprise at my age, “You don’t look 70!” Of course I would have paid extra for those few words… Jim quickly chimed in that he also looked young for his age. Again, graciously, the check-in person said, “I am sure you do, but honey, I don’t know your birthdate, just his.”
We were then ushered into the clinical prep area, had vitals taken, was asked my name and birthdate for the 6th time that morning and was then directed to change into a surgical gown… Of course -Tied just at the top and the back side open.- I was also given some sox to wear and well as a hat. So, the gown was a forest green (and fortunately not an army fatigue print, otherwise the surgery would need to have been cancelled) , the sox bright blue and the hat was silver. Should I say something…or should I not? What the hell… So, I asked my nurse for information about the person in charge of selecting the colors of these items, since nothing felt very well coordinated. She looked at me and politely acknowledged the clash but assured me that it was not her. Perhaps it gave her something to chat about during her break.
MDs and nurses came in and out, Jim did Sudoku on his phone, I did Sudoku on my phone, I was taken to the operating room, they actually asked if I worked out ( I guess I did not look like the usual 70 year old to them- Again, I would have paid extra), I was asked to breathe deeply into a mask… and then I woke up in recovery. I was told everything went fine, to take some drugs for a bit and to -wear the jock strap that you now have on for a while.-
While getting dressed to go, not only was I impressed that my white starched shirt still looked pretty good after having been folded into a plastic bag that Jim carried around while I was in surgery, but I also asked Jim why I needed to wear the jock strap. He said it was “for the support of the belted area” since that it where they did the laparoscopic surgery. Made sense to me. We got back home by 10:30 that morning…. And Jim even walked Jade that day, but not the next day of course.
Next morning I woke up and my scrotum (balls) were extraordinarily swollen. They had turned almost deep purple (almost black), and were very sensitive. Disconcerted of course, I immediately went on-line and learned that being blessed with a swollen scrotum is a known outcome of hernia surgery. Very uncomfortable, but the jock strap was there to help. Why no one (MD or nurse) happened to mention this to me and why the discharge instructions don’t say more than “wear a jock strap’ continues to be a mystery to me. I asked that surgeon about this and he said, -well, it can happen depending upon the location of the surgery.- Doesn’t he know where he did the surgery, so why would I not be told so I could be prepared? Is this the Southern way of practicing medicine? Not to talk about swollen balls? All I was able to get in response was some mumbling with a bit of a Southern drawl.
Did I let problem of swollen balls go? Not quite. I called the hospital’s outpatient team to share feedback. I was informed that their nursing team has -no problem at all- talking about a swollen scrotum, and she said it about five times to make sure I would believe her. Having gotten a bit more comfortable with the conversation, the person on the phone said she would make sure that the spoke about -swollen balls- during their next staff meeting. Let’s hope so .. for the next person in line for the surgery. Or perhaps they need to attach a note to the jock strap when it placed on the anesthetized person. Something like: – You will need this tomorrow ‘cause your balls will not be the same for a while. –