Just You Wait, 'Enry Crandall, Just You Wait! The Good News Is I'm in Recovery #WalkMyWorld

I was prepared to see white lights. I also expected to get nervous, have the sweats, suffer from stomach cramps, vomit a lot, and feel lightheaded. All bets, too, were on me passing out as soon as I entered the hospital. It didn't happen. My sister and mom were prepared with their phones, but it didn't happen.

Rather, I kept my sense of humor, asked a lot of questions, learned a lot about the medical profession (with much admiration), and had Henry the Hernia ('Enry the 'Ernia) taken care of. As Dr. Roselle Crombie reported, "Half of him was cut out and removed, and the other half was tucked back inside where he belonged." She also stated I have "a 70-year old man's crotch." Um. Not sure what that means accept that the tissue and muscle layers are very thin and there's a high potential for future hernias.

If ever you need your pelvic region ripped open, I highly recommend Dr. Crombie. From the second I entered her office a few weeks ago, I knew I was in the hands of a remarkable physician and surgeon. Yes, I over researched the actual procedure, though, and now feel somewhat slighted that my scars are no where near the six inches I anticipated. Consequently, I am not posting Frank-n-Crotch pictures as I planned.

I could have captured the elephant suit (bear suit) they put me in, however...a giant robe that had tubes everywhere so they could blow me up into a giant bubble if necessary to have access to 'me' body parts and to throw whatever they needed into my body.

The greatest part of the day, though, was when they brought me clothes and gave me permission to change. I was a little loopy from the anesthesia, and when I took off the elephant/bear suit, I yelled, "Holy Brazil, Batman. Nice military cut." I then heard the laughter of nurses, interns, and other patients. "You're bald fella....bald bald bald as a ping pong ball. Boy are you bald."

Then came the pain. Yup, the pain. They released me with Percocet. I have since learned that Percocet does not appease the pain, but DOES make my mind race like a Whipperwill's ass. Last night when everyone was sleeping I lied awake writing 12 articles and a couple of novels in my head. My brain would not shut off.

The ice is the blessing. That seems to work well with the pain.

And I am thanking good ol #DogTrax who reminded me of Henry cartoons from back in the day. I found this one and it pretty much sums up what my life will be like this weekend. It's Friday and I'm in recovery mode (with tremendous appreciation that Cynde, Dylan, Mom, and Chitunga are in the house to help out as they can - also loved the snickerdoodles sent from Ginette). Well, Chitunga has to work.

It sort of felt like my birthday, too, with all the messages, phone calls and Facebook shout outs.

It feels good to be loved. And with that noted, I'm going to attempt a bowl of raisin bran in hopes of...well...the bran. And from now on I'm setting myself on a road of returning such love wherever it is needed. Love wins every time.