Part One more ailment bites the dust/laughing at pain


After the Halloween “trunk or treat” party at church (where kids go from car to car as owners give them treats from their decorated trunks), we find ourselves with a crowd of neighbors inside our house devouring pizza slices before going out on Halloween night. Bree and Brooke have on their outfits from the previous day as we accompany them on a beautiful, clear, and slightly cool evening.

The next day is officially All Saints Day, and the beautiful weather continues. I meet with Dr. Br- to discuss my hernia surgery. He talks to me at length and is curious about my previous surgeries and procedures. I give him the abbreviated version of my tale. He describes the procedure he will be doing, showing me the synthetic gauze that he will use. The entire thing sounds pretty simple for once, so I set it up.

I take Bree to her basketball tryout, her first attempt at this sport. Playing often as a child, I encourage her. I have to leave her practice early, though, rushing home in pain to ice down my soon to be relieved problem.

The following Friday is very chilly after a cold front blows in, dropping the air to the upper thirties. I drive Brooke and Bree to school, then Becah and I head over to the hospital. This time we are in for a treat – a beautiful, new facility ten minutes from our house. No hour drive to the medical center. Free, plentiful parking. It almost makes me glad that I am having surgery. There are very few patients this morning, and they zip me right in and hook up the IV. I meet with the anesthesiologist, am greeted by Dr. Br-, and promptly on time I am rolled into the operating room. I fall asleep as we enter through the doors. At about 12:30 I start waking up, feeling fine in my groggy state. Becah and I leave shortly after. She treats me to a mushroom swiss sandwich and peppermint mocha to celebrate. GG greets us at the house, having come over last night as a backup in case she was needed. I was told there might be some pain for a few days and that I would have to take it very easy then. They obviously don’t know what I’ve been through, and how I laugh at what they call discomfort. It is, as they say, all relative.