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I would never have guessed that an offhand suggestion to foster a tortoise could lead to losing my belly button, but that’s the insane scenario I find myself in after my “umbilectomy with hernia repair” last Friday. I provided some background and color the morning of the procedure, so here’s the follow-up.

The story began when I tried to shove a 250-pound terrarium up a flight of stairs by myself. I managed to get it eight steps up before my abdominal wall popped! I lost my balance, fell backwards, and watched the glass tank rush towards me before it slammed into my chest. An umbilical hernia, a torn labrum, and two cracked ribs were the diagnoses.

I was in pain! I thought about my labrum every time I moved my arm. I thought about my ribs every time I coughed. I tried not to think of my hernia because it was gross! Unfortunately, it kept getting bigger while everything else healed.

It took a year to realize I couldn’t overlook the hernia anymore, so I found a new doctor in my network just down the street from work. Although it wasn’t incarcerated or strangulated, addressing the unsightly mass of protruding organs was urgent. 

As I understand it, everything pushed through the hernia so much that removing some of it, stuffing the rest of it back inside, installing plastic mesh to strengthen my abdominal muscles, and stapling the whole mess back up across my belly button was the only solution to my problem. The surgeon mentioned the “umbilectomy” thing on my pre-op visit, but I didn’t fully internalize it until I googled the word. I shouldn’t have!

The operation was four days later and went off without a hitch. Once I woke up, the surgeon reaffirmed that I’ll spend the rest of my life without a navel but comforted me with the results of an informal straw poll he took in the operating room: the nurses unanimously agreed that losing my belly button was preferable to losing my nipples! Never a fan of surprises, I double-checked them just to be sure.

My mom gave me a ride to and from the hospital and tried to convince me to stay at her house while I recuperated. Initially, I wanted none of it. “I’m an adult,” I told her on the way. “I’ll be fine,” I insisted! Nevertheless, I acquiesced the second I was discharged and spent the rest of Friday, Saturday, Sunday, and half of Monday under the treatment of Dr. Mom.

You may have been cared for by your own Dr. Mom- they’re the best in the business! She might not read every up-to-date medical journal, but Dr. Mom’s work is at the forefront of treatment. She combines her institutional knowledge with remedies picked up over the years and a fierce devotion to her patients. Even when they wake her up in the middle of the night with blood all over the floor like I did on Satuday. 

Fortunately, a bathroom bloody from my saturated dressing was the only dramatic event during my treatment. Mom spent the weekend tending to all my needs, and I realized I’d slept better in her recliner than I ever would have in my own bed. She released me Monday afternoon, and I returned to work on Tuesday. I was in significant pain with a bleeding, seeping wound, so I spent yesterday at home in my easy chair with a pair of sleepy cats to keep me company. 

That said, I’m still bleeding six days after surgery. I was told to call the surgeon if it persisted, but his office has been closed since Monday for an emergency with no forwarding information. Everything else is stable, but I hope to not have a $300 emergency room copay over the weekend!

I’m sure everything is fine since hernia surgery isn’t a big deal in the grand scheme of things. Once it heals, mine will leave me with a shallow impression in the middle of my stomach, a five-inch scar across my abdomen, and a slew of takeaways to deploy before something as dumb as this happens again. The first is “don’t be stupid!” Unfortunately, that’s not very helpful since I’ll probably always be plagued by some degree of idiocy.

Really, my conclusions are simple: ask for help when you need it, and don’t be afraid to take it when it’s offered. Self advocate! Listen to your body, and be proactive about your health! Also, never offer to temporarily adopt a tortoise no matter how cute you think it is.

It’s crazy that I haven’t internalized those lessons by now, but taking them to heart will be well worth it if I can prevent the loss of my nipples during my next misadventure or if they help me avoid complications from my residual bleeding. I’ll be proactive this time, but I’m excited for things to return to normal as I recover, even absens umbilicus.