When I was 22 years old I had a herniorrhaphy, it was one of the saddest times in my life till date.
A hernia occurs when an organ pushes through an opening in the muscle or tissue that holds it in place. For example, the intestines may break through a weakened area in the abdominal wall. Most hernias are not immediately life threatening, but they don’t go away on their own and can require surgery to prevent potentially dangerous complications.
I was operated on by my uncle an incredible surgeon and he did such a wonderful job, I don’t even have a scar anymore.
I’ve always had a hernia as far back as I can remember, it was a family thing, sort off. My dad, grandma, aunties and one cousin all have or had it at some point. The discomfort sort of came and went on its on but this time it came and wouldn’t go back, eventually getting so bad that I couldn’t stand up straight without feeling pain and discomfort. Even I couldn’t deny the fact that it was time for a surgery.
I am still not certain that it had anything to do with the hernia but I suffered the worst bout of insomnia around the same time, I would literally go days without sleep and be depressed the whole time.
My grades where horrible and the man that I loved was well, wasn’t in my world anymore.
“You need to take it out” he was so chill about it, like he wasn’t talking about tearing me open and fiddling with parts of me.
“Oya, let’s go” she said stretching out her hands towards me.
I took her hand and still in that daze, walked out of his office. We went downstairs and my blood was drawn and tested for a bunch of stuff.
“So what does that mean?” I managed to respond
I couldn’t hear her over the exploding joy in my heart, I wasn’t going to get operated on now, I’ve been saved by my low blood count. Meaning I had a couple days to atleast wrap my head around it.
So off I went, to stuff my face with vegetables and fish and wrap my head around what everything that was meant to happen. The mind is a very funny tool, for whatever reason I strongly believed that I’d go under and never come back up. This terrified me greatly. I tried to rest, I figured if I stayed still and strain free long enough maybe the hernia would go away. Bu at the end of the couple days break, I was itching to go back to the hospital because the hernia hadn’t disappeared and the pain had multiplied.
People say everything happens for a reason and I’m not entirely sure I believe that, the universe can’t possibly be that organized and premeditated. But in this one encounter I’m inclined to atleast consider the fact that maybe it was meant to be.
I left that hospital a little tougher, a little bit more confident in my own ability to pull myself by my boot straps. And on days like this, when I feel alone and terrified, disillusioned by fear and uncertainty. I remind myself of that time how I made it through and I know I’ll make it through this one too.
Throw back, from after my surgery