Just a few days ago my biggest concern was whether I'd be chasing a 500 lb bench at 220 or a 600 lb squat at 198 when I turn 50 next summer. Thanks to all of your opinions and a couple of write-in options, I decided on chasing a 500 lb bench at 198. I touched base with Swede and he thought it would be possible. I was really excited at the prospect of the challenge.

Then like the title states "Life Is What Happens While You're Busy Making Other Plans." I suffered a hernia in an incident at work. Seriously, I can squat 600 lbs with no issues, but turn awkwardly with just a little pressure in the wrong direction, and pop goes the hernia. Maybe I need to start wearing my lifting belt to work, but I digress.

I was told to go to an Occupational Health Center which then sent me directly to the ER. They were worried it was incarcerated, which is bad. SEVEN SHORT HOURS LATER after blood work and an ultrasound I still hadn't seen a Dr. I told the PA at the front desk I was starting to experience some serious anxiety being there so long. She was awesome. There were no rooms, so she set me up on a stretcher in a hallway where a Dr was finally able to see me.

Between looking at the test results and being able to push the hernia back in, joy, he did not feel the need for an immediate emergency surgery. However, he did want to perform one more test, but I just couldn't take it anymore. He told me as long as I was not nauseous or hadn't vomited, he felt he could discharge me, but if either happened I needed to come back. He also told me, I definitely needed surgery soon.

Luckily all those involved in getting me cut open did a great job, and surgery was had only one week after the injury. But, if I only knew what was coming, I would not have been grinning in that picture. You see, this is the second go around for me with umbilical hernia surgeries. I had the first one over a decade ago and that was an emergency. Maybe techniques were different back then or maybe the Dr had to make a tee time, but it definitely caused complications this go around.

This Doc made a few laparoscopic incisions to make sure there were no issues with the intestine that was clamoring to get out of my body. The good news was the intestine was ok. The bad news for me is that they use CO2 to fill the abdomen when doing this, so I had that going for me. I'm glad the amazing nurses explained to me that this air would be traveling throughout my body as time passed; otherwise, later that night when I was writhing in pain from not only my belly but up in my shoulders as well, I for sure would have thought I was having a heart attack.

With my intestines intact, the Dr had the unenviable task of removing the old mesh. I was later told that it was balled up and tangled with fat. I guess this did not make it easy to remove. After that, the doc diced up my newly found abs and placed the mesh under the muscle where it should fare much better this time around.

Everything went awesome with one exception, I was not ordered pain medication following my surgery. I time traveled into post-op where I woke in some serious pain. I don't know, I used to think I was tough, but maybe not. I've had other surgeries, injuries, accidents, etc where I thought I handled pain pretty well. Not this time.

From my daze, I could hear the nurses trying to order me pain medication. They were not having much luck. They even got Jess and brought her back with me where visitors aren't normally allowed to try and help me get through it. Finally, the nurses got an order for some morphine. Morphine has made me terribly nauseous in the past, but I was willing to risk it. In the IV it went, but I couldn't tell if it helped. They got another order and gave me some more.

At this point, I was done with the hospital. If I was going to be in this much pain, I wanted to do it at home. Again, the nurses were awesome. For those that don't know, they want you to urinate before you can leave the hospital. This was no fun with a belly full of air and a couple of incisions. They stood me up, put my hand in warm water, and ran the sink to encourage me, they knew all the tricks. Hmmm, maybe they were not trying to help so much as trying to get rid of me? Either way, we had a success and I was able to go.

The first twenty-four hours post-op were really bad. I actually wished for death. The next day when the nurse checked in with Jess, she was quite certain it was the lack of immediate pain medication that caused this. Unfortunately, this is not uncommon. The nurse told us that the post-op pain meds order is to come from the anesthesiologist. I know Wendler had to fight to get pain medication for Rhodes post-op after his heart surgery. So take this as a learning experience. If there's any chance you'll need post-op pain medication in the hospital, make sure it's set up before you go under the knife. This way you won't have to be begging for it from your recovery bed.

With a few days behind me, I'm starting to feel human. I'm dealing with a little prescription opiate induced side effect, but am starting to cut back already and hopefully that will work itself out, literally. I'm spending most of my time reclined in a chair watching tv. If anyone has any binge-worthy shows let me know. I have access to cable, Netflix, and Amazon Prime.

The most important thing is that the Doc said the surgery was very successful. My follow up isn't for a week, thank God because I can't imagine bending to get into a car let alone even hitting one pothole. In the meantime though, I'm just laying low trying to heal. I don't plan on being a hero. I will follow the doctor's orders to the letter as far as recovery and when I'll be able to lift again. It sure does suck not being able to train, but there are worse tragedies in the world.