Six weeks

Yesterday marked the end of my six-week recovery period from hernia surgery. It's felt a long time since that very interesting experience in hospital and the time since has been loaded with doubt, impatience, imprudence, angst and regrets. The first week I knew I was doing too much even while I was doing too much and then the second and third week I was wondering whether I'd harmed myself by doing too much, while still doing a lot at work and play and travelling with my parents-in-law.

"Six weeks" is a puzzling length of time for someone who hasn't had surgery. Even the two weeks' complete rest period after surgery had been rather odd to me. Perhaps it's because I've had "wounds" before that never took too long and not really understand what surgery meant. Open inguinal hernia surgery, to be clear, has many steps from cutting through skin and muscle, to inserting mesh, to sewing the mesh in, then sewing the muscle together and then the skin together. Precision Stab Wounds + Plus.

At the two week mark I went to a GP in an agitated state. I was a jittery mess both physically and mentally. I couldn't wait for some guidance or insight, or just the assurance that things were on track. (I still don't know if what I got was good advice. I believe I had a mild infection at that time that wasn't noticed or treated at that point that caused a lot of discomfort.) She gave me a couple of gauze bandages and the assurance that surgical recovery is often a case of two steps forward and one step back. That wisdom which applies to so much was some relief.

Six weeks should signify the opposite of quick recovery - progress is slow and sometimes imperceptible. And that's where the doubt creeps in. Between week 4 and week 5 there was still discomfort that arose during both weeks. Even with a gentle run in the fifth week the "healing ridge" from the surgery pounding and swollen. It hadn't done that and felt "wrong". In the fifth week how could it still feel so swollen.

I now have a belly. It's not your usual belly - it's a result of my core muscles all going flabby as I used my limbs rather than my core for getting out of bed, chairs and automobiles. Even though most of the discomfort has gone I still instinctively prevent any use of core by locking by spine and hips and using my arms to level myself around. Running, which uses the core when done right, has been odd without the core that I had. I have to reprogram my habits and do regular exercises to build it back up. 

Now that the six weeks are up I still feel I have some time to go. I still feel twinges at odd times for odd movements. The healing ridge, while not protruding out from my body, is still evident to touch. I still don't want anything pressing on the area. On the plus side, I'm running although still mostly at an easy pace. I'm 18 days away from a series race that I'll likely just cruise rather than race. One little sign I'm close to recovery is my resting heart rate. This goes up when you're sick, drinking, tired and down when you're body is well, without much inflammation. These two days it's sunk back to 52 which is pretty much in the normal range for me.

Tomorrow I'll be meeting my assailant, the surgeon who cut me, for a consultation. She seemed nice enough before she wounded me. I'm looking forward to it.

Running-related curious addendum: I've mentioned here previously my dicky heart rate while running. It went low going uphill and rose downhill which is rather counter-intuitive. It had patches of random lower heart rate (115bpm) and rates higher than 180bpm with no factor of speed, effort, ascent or descent. Post-surgery, I noticed my running blood pressure is much higher than my previous running, but with fewer troughs but more peaks. Interestingly, my recent runs have been more similar to how it's meant to be: the more effort I put in, the higher my heart rate would be. A pattern that normal people have. It might be temporary normality but something that I'll watch and reflect on.