The Impending Surgery

My son has World Cup fever. We watched the Americans beat Ghana last night and screamed and yelled and jumped up and down. He plays soccer and is now really getting into it much more than he ever has. 

Last week he had try outs for the local club travel team. He eagerly anticipated the two nights of play. A friend brought him home from the first night, and as it was late, I asked him to take a quick shower, while I impatiently stood in his bedroom, waiting to say goodnight and tuck him in. He stepped out of the shower and I could see it from across the room. No, not that. The hernia!

He had a large, strange, abdominal bulge and I gasped loudly. 

"Ohmigod! Get over here!" I could have played it a little cooler. He kind of freaked out and started to cry.

"Do I have penis cancer?" Oh heavens. I clearly am to blame for that one.

"No. But I think you have a hernia," I said, as I pushed lightly on the squishy mound. 

"That means I have to have surgery, don't I?" He was pretty much inconsolable after that. I told him to think about it as entry into the special family club. Both his parents have had hernias and the surgery that follows. No big deal. I was four, his dad was younger, but then also had one three years ago.

Now he has resigned himself to it and just wants to get it over with. He is pleased because the nurse said, "If I were you, I would buy him a new game for his gaming system." She said it in front of him, of course. Thanks, Nurse. He's also aware that I will probably baby him a little and he will get extra treats. 

More than anything, though, he just wants to run around. He couldn't go to the second day of try outs. He hasn't been able to play sports with his friends...much. He sneaks in a run or two when I'm not looking. My biggest fear for him is that he will go stir crazy. I guess I better get that game. Maybe the nurse knows what she's talking about after all.