The Hernia (part one)

October 1984 - The Price of Ego

Back at the turn of the century (the early 1980's), this young man was at the pinnacle of his physical condition. During that time, I had a job moving furniture. I looked like an ant moving five times my weight but I had a secret. I learned how to maneuver objects around (with a little help from my partner, of course) and I soon understood that even with the heaviest pieces, there was always a way to get it into the building without hurting myself

About a year later, I was asked by my supervisor if I could make certain that a container of laundry detergent was taken up to to the second floor. After all of my previous training, my ego quickly said yes and I rolled the cylindrical container to the edge of the stairway. Without assistance, the best way to get this thing upstairs would have been to flip it over from one end to the other. Not wanting to damage the cardboard container, I opted to pick the thing up and carry it up the fourteen steps. To this day, I can remember the stress and strain to my entire body, as I made the quest towards the far away landing at the top. Of all of the herculean stunts I had performed, none stands out more than the stupidity of that day. I mean, what was the problem? The container only weighed 100 lbs. It might have been the accumulation of all the past exertions but I truly feel that this was the antic that pushed me towards the dreaded consequence called the HERNIA.

By the middle of 1984, I began to feel a slight bump between the lower left side of my abdomen and my upper thigh. It would come and go and I tried to not give it much thought. Isn't it grand how the male ego works when you feel that you are indestructible? What could possibly go wrong?

What was going wrong was that the swelling became more regular and it seemed to occur mostly when I was standing. The blood would rush to that area and not recede unless I lied down or used my finger to push the little lump back into it's little home. Odd as it sounds, I became a master at doing this particular maneuver through my pants pocket. This seemed to be working fine until that dreaded day in October.

I had gotten a job as a manager of a group home and I was determined to make a good impression. I'd just gotten off the D train at 59th Street and was now standing on the subway platform to take the #7 train to Queens.  My left hand was in my pocket, pressing the little bump but it didn't seem to make a difference. There was no denying it. I was in a lot of pain. The train pulled into the station and I said a prayer. My prayers were answered and I was able to get a seat. I thought this would relieve some of the stress but as I sat there with my hand in pocket, I began to sweat. The pain was determined to follow me to my job. I now had no choice. I got off at the next stop and began the trek to take the two trains necessary to get me back home.

This was in the days before cell phones, so when my wife heard me come through the door and then I lied in a supine position on the bed, she was more than a little curious about what I was doing home. For the first time in a few hours, with my knees up, I finally felt some relief. Mr. Macho had no choice but to spill his guts about what I had been going through for the last few months. She called our family doctor and then she then got the number of a specialist.

The doc said what I described sounded like an  inguinal hernia. It was probably caused by strain on the groin. It seems that fat or a piece of small intestine pushes downward through a weakened space into the groin area. They are often painful and could become strangulated (this is when blood flow to the affected area is compromised). That could be life threatening, so whether I liked it or not, surgery was in order. So much for macho.

To be continued..........

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