Three Hernias, No Sleep, and a Brush With Oblivion

What I learned on the table, through the gas, and in the silence afterward

I walked into Blackburn Public Hospital expecting to have my umbilical hernia repaired and my left-sided Spigelian hernia explored. What I didn’t expect was that the surgeon would find three hernias, not two — and that both sides of my abdomen would be stitched back together.

The Operation

They found:

• An umbilical hernia, as expected.

• A Spigelian hernia on the left side — the one that had caused cramping and bulging episodes.

• A third defect on the right side — not previously confirmed, but clearly compromised.

None of these were straightforward. The surgeon suspects the side hernias may be congenital — abdominal wall abnormalities I’ve had since birth. They resembled Spigelian hernias but didn’t quite follow the classic pattern.

Living With a Hidden Threat

The cramping episodes that hinted at a Spigelian hernia were painful and alarming. They only happened a handful of times, but each one lasted five to ten minutes and was enough to create a genuine sense of panic. I knew I needed to act, but being on a public hospital waiting list meant I had to be patient.

Still, I have no complaints. The entire procedure was free. And the care I received was exceptional. One of the doctors even said, “If I’m in your condition when I’m your age, I’ll be very, very happy.” That compliment stayed with me.

Anaesthesia and Oblivion

The operation lasted a little over two hours. I was under general anaesthetic. A breathing tube was placed in my throat, which the anaesthetist warned might leave me a bit sore afterward. He was right.

The drugs were powerful. I plan to request a list of what was used so I can detox properly if needed.

But the deeper impact was the experience of anaesthesia itself. This wasn’t sleep. There were no dreams, no sensation, no memory. Just nothingness. From a consciousness perspective, it’s profound.

Where did I go? If I’m a conscious, spiritual being — why no awareness? Why no trace? I’d like to explore this more. Anaesthesia offers a rare and oddly peaceful look at the complete shutdown of the self. There’s no narrative. No time. You’re simply not there… until you are again.

The Gas and the Gut

After laparoscopic surgery, CO₂ is left in the abdomen. It causes referred pain — often in the shoulders, ribs or back — because it irritates the diaphragm and nearby nerves. That’s one thing.

The other is something I didn’t see coming: ileus.

Due to the CO₂ and abdominal trauma, the bowel can go to sleep. Literally. Peristalsis — the wave-like contractions that move food through the intestines — shuts down temporarily. I’m grateful I asked the surgeon about it. Otherwise, I would’ve had no idea.

This is why stool softeners are recommended. But I prefer a natural approach. Here’s what I’m using:

• Magnesium citrate or glycinate to relax the bowels

• Aloe vera juice to soothe the gut

• Filtered water with electrolytes to stay hydrated

• Gentle walking to stimulate movement

• Bone broth to heal and nourish

No Sleep, Just Music

Despite the surgery, and the lack of sleep, I felt surprisingly clear. I wasn’t tired. My mind was sharp. I didn’t feel low-vibration or dulled — quite the opposite.

So I made music.

I opened up Logic Pro and created a track called Endone. A perfect name for a piece born in a post-op haze and creative wave. It’s already up on SoundCloud, and it feels like part of the healing.