“The Tale of Henrietta, the Hernia”

A very Happy New Year to one and all!! Yes, the holiday greeting does come a bit late, but how refreshing for you to be able to sit a spell and be entertained by the “Tale of Henrietta, the Hernia,” my gift to you.

Henrietta came to light – or life? – at around 10:00 AM on December 12, 2019. That morning started off normally enough with an early coffee and chat with my good friend, Robin, after which I headed to my second-grade sub job. All was well until midmorning when I felt an exorbitant amount of sharp abdominal pain.

“Whoa, that hurts, ” I thought, but as my philosophy in life, in general, is that if I just ignore it, it will go away, (a very ineffective method, by the way, which rarely works, but one to which I adhere tightly,) I ignored it, though it was a challenge to get around. Fortunately, there happened to be a very hyperactive 7-year-old girl, who I directed throughout the day so I would not have to stand or move around much, killing two birds with one stone. She did not have any time to get into any mischief, as I kept her busy the entire day, and I’m pretty sure she slept pretty well that night!! You’re welcome, Mom!!

I did manage to shuffle-walk them to Art, after which I headed to the restroom, thinking I just needed to clear my system, as it were, and that is when Henrietta “popped out!” “That’s not right,” I thought, as “she protruded with a very pronounced mound, and I automatically tried to push her back to where she came and belonged, but this only produced more pain, and she simply and stubbornly was not budging!!!

I managed to power through the rest of the day – besides, who knows, maybe ignoring it might just work this time. I did phone the family doctor of 35 years, who immediately diagnosed Henrietta, and instructed me to come in ASAP. I then detected a very loud, annoyed, drawn-out exhalation of breath when I informed him that I couldn’t as I was working. (Being retired, I get this a lot!!) His last words were to get to the ER.

The day finally came to an end, and I called my husband as calmly and confidently as I could, to let him know that I was experiencing some rather sharp abdominal pains and that I thought I should drive myself to the ER. Since I never call him – half the time I don’t even return his texts – he knew this was serious enough to come to me and drive me there himself.

Once there, everything sped up. All I had to say was that I had a hernia – granted, I was doubled over at this point – and, before I knew it, I was put in a wheelchair, waiting for an ultrasound. Then, there was a second long, very loud – annoyed drawn-out exhalation of air, along with a very serious eye roll from my husband – when I was thinking out loud, “I wonder if I should cancel my sub job for tomorrow.”

I was then rolled into the Ultrasound Room where many photos of my new friend were taken from many different angles, and the discomfort from this photo op prompted my next question and more concerned looks.

With my “little voice,”(which I use when I am either in pain or tense), I asked, “ Will there be any kind of pain medication in my near future?” The response could not have been any more exciting or perfect: “We’ll be giving you some morphine.”

Me: “Oh, I love morphine! It’s my favorite! My heart was pumping with excitement!! At this point, all the doctors and nurses stopped cold and stared at me. I continued, stammering, in my little voice, “I’ve actually only had morphine twice: today would be the second time. I had knee surgery 34 years ago, and I just remember how very well it worked.”

Thankfully, my explanation sufficed. I was then transferred to a bed in a room – still in the ER – which was totally padded, and quite empty; the faucet didn’t even have a handle???? When I questioned the doctor in charge as to the use of this particular room, his response made me chuckle: “It’s used for patients with “personality issues.”

For a moment I nervously thought that maybe my morphine comment had caused the decision to bring me here, and I frowned. The doctor, seeing this, smiled, and explained that they did not want me out in the ER waiting room, and this room was the only one available. Whew!! That was a close one!

Then, the kind nurses came in, and, voila, an IV was pumping me with morphine – instant relief!! It was during this time when the doctor who was to perform my emergency “robotic” hernia surgery, arrived to explain what was in store for me.

He was quite excited at being able to perform this surgery using one of the few robotic machines in Solano County. His eyes were literally gleaming with anticipation. It all sounded good, except that I thought he looked awfully young – too young, perhaps and not experienced? I nervously asked him how long he had worked at North Bay. He filled me in with his background – 10 years here and 13 years there. I stopped him, “ Wait, but you’re only 20!!!”

He stopped me with, “I’m 44,” and then it hit me, “Oh, My God; that’s what old people say to young people!!!” I’m officially old. Yikes – Plus, I have been and still am very excited at having my Medicare cards and the amazing Clipper Card for the Senior Citizen/Handicapped – an amazing saving!!!! But, just maybe, if I ignore all this – the acting old (if not the actuality of being older,) it’ll all go away!!! Hope – you’ve got to have hope – as tenuous as it might be.

The surgery went well, and I was well cared for!! I learned a lot. First of all, I am happy to report that I verified with the many nurses who got me to walk, that there does not, in fact, exist a room in any hospital where the nurses and doctors go to grab some sleep and then have sex with each other, which they discuss while in surgery, as is portrayed on Grey’s Anatomy. My concern was met with cackles of laughter from many!

In the end, all went well, and, except for the pain, it was a truly amazing adventure, as it made me realize how lucky I was, that I came in when I did, that the medical situation was not worse, but “fixable,” and that everyone I came into contact with took such good care of me. Most of all, I was grateful to be able to channel the wonderfully comforting aura of my dad who would always have a humorous spin on anything life could dish out. As a child, I was either crying, hurt, bleeding, or on the ground, or a combination of all four. My dad was always there to pick me up – literally and emotionally. Thirty years have passed since his death, and yet, I still feel his presence by my side, encouraging me and making me laugh when the more serious side of life shows its face.

So, here’s to the restorative and regenerative effects of a life lived as one long, amazing adventure with all its ups and downs and wonder. Much peace, love, happiness, laughter, and good fortune to all – always.