I had to have minor surgery yesterday to correct the beginning of an umbilical hernia. I thought this was something that only babies get, but apparently not. A few weeks ago while brushing my teeth I glanced down in the mirror and, to my surprise, didn’t recognize my belly-button. K confirmed that it did look different and the doctor confirmed that while not yet a hernia, it was on its way. The procedure was relatively minor and I was home the same day, but it has kicked off some interesting side-effects.

First, I had to explain to the boys that I was having surgery, that it wasn’t serious, but that I wouldn’t be able to play outside, run around or pick them up for a few days. This was well met, but M had some questions, mainly about the hole the doctor was going to make. “Can I see the hole?” he asked during dinner the night before. I told him that the doctor would sew it shut afterwards so there wouldn’t be an actual hole. “Let me see the hole you have now, though,” he demanded. It took quite some time to convince him that there was no hole in my stomach to be seen. He was disappointed.

The day of surgery presented new issues. I had to be at the hospital at 10:30 and M got out of his last day of school at 11. C was in school until 2:30 as usual and while my parents were picking him up after a morning engagement they had, someone needed to get M. Following the grand firing, the only solution was for K to drop me off and go back for M and then return to the hospital (armed with an iPad for his entertainment). I was a little concerned about being at the hospital by myself, but I’m a big boy I had to keep reminding myself.

K and M returned before I went into surgery, but after I had been prepped. M looked a little concerned at seeing me in a hospital bed, but I kept smiling and made sure my arm with the IV in in was hidden under a blanket (especially after a certain medical student had botched two attempts at placing the line and covered me in bruises and bandages). M being the curious type, though, noticed the tubes and followed them down and an under the blanket while I was talking to the nurse. Before I knew it he had lifted the blanket and was staring at the tube going into my left wrist. I tried to play it off as something cool, but he stared wide-eyed and announced that “that is very surprising.” He then proceeded to ask if he could come watch the surgery.

Next step, anesthesia. The doctor put something into my IV and the world began slowly swim.  I gave K a kiss and leaned down to give M one as well. I remember telling him I loved him and would see him in a little while.  I don’t remember telling him that his face looked funny, but that was apparently how I left the room (in my defense he did get his face painted at school).

I have no memory of the next few hours. I do have a hazy recollection of telling the OR nurse that I had never heard of the company that made the huge lights over the operating table. M meanwhile was in a snit in the waiting room. He stood and stared into the fish tank and a nice woman asked he if liked the fish. “No,” was his response “they wouldn’t let me go watch daddy’s surgery. I don’t need to be in front, I can just stand in the back and see.” He continued to harangue anyone who would listen about his dislike of hospital policy. One woman asked if he wanted to be a doctor, “no” he responded, “a ninja.”

I awoke in recovery (apparently I awoke several times, but I only recall once) to a smiling M and K and thankfully no demerol in my system (past experience with this drug had not gone well for me – nothing like dry heaving after an abdominal surgery) and was quickly ready to go home. A bandage on my stomach denied M his desired view of the hole the doctor made, but he is hopeful he’ll still get a glimpse.

Since then I have been in a percocet haze with the boys being surprisingly doting. M was home from school today and announced that he was my babysitter. He casually took advantage of me and gently suggested everything he wanted to do and seemed pleased that daddy put up little resistance to his board game choices or the sudden rule changes that gave him a distinct advantage when the going got tough. I was pleased at how well I can play Lego Star Wars when stoned and just how enjoyable a TMNT movie can be even when you doze in and out of scenes. Thankfully K was working in the next room to help with major issues, like M’s sudden need for chicken nuggets and to prevent me from agreeing with anything too outlandish.

I remain an invalid for the next few days, feeling guilty as K does all the work around the house, but am in good hands. I still feel funny, though.