You’d think a dad gets injured doing something awesome — like saving a kid from a runaway scooter, wrestling a crocodile, or surfing beyond his limits.
Not me. I got my hernia showing the kids how to do sit-ups. SIT-UPS.
The lamest injury story ever.
Fast forward 12 months on the waiting list. One whole year of living with what I can only describe as a rogue testicle trying to make a run for it. To keep things “in place,” I resorted to wearing women's suck-me-in undies… with the crotch cut out… and padding stuffed-in to push the hernia back in place. It turned out a standard groin hernia strap didn't work for me.
Yep. Twelve months of looking like the world’s most committed scratcher, adjusting myself every three minutes in public.
Some dads go viral on TikTok. I was one trip to Woolies away from going viral on A Current Affair.
Resort Dad Problems
It wasn’t just at home either. Picture this: family holiday, resort pool, me hauling the kids out of the water mid-cannonball so I can sprint to the hot shower, lie down on the tiles like a beached whale, and manually push my hernia back in just to get pain relief. Nothing screams “dad of the year” like your kids yelling “Is Daddy dead?” while you’re groaning in a public shower.
Also, ever tried putting on suck-me-in undies in a public change room? Let’s just say I got some looks.
The Call-Up
Finally, the golden phone call came. Emergency level. Time to slice and dice. After 12 months of waiting, I got wheeled in like some sort of VIP guest nobody actually wanted.
Two days on heavy pain meds later, I get home… and reality hits harder than the anesthesia ever did.
Recovery Dad
Doctors say: “No lifting more than 5kg for 4–6 weeks.”
Reality check: I have three kids under six. One is a 2-year-old treasure who weighs in at a solid 11kg. Her favourite hobby? Being carried everywhere by Dad.
Explaining to her that I have an “ouchie” covered in bandages is like explaining Bitcoin to a Labrador. She stares, nods, then lifts her arms up again like “yeah, but carry me now please.”
So far (day 3... or 4 of recovery?) the kids have been surprisingly decent. They pat the bandage, call it “Daddy’s ouchie,” and don’t climb on me… much. My biggest enemy right now? Netflix. Turns out laughing hurts like hell when your stomach’s been rearranged.
Made the mistake of putting on Fox Sports: Hindy & Fletch — haven’t regretted a life choice that much since the sit-ups.
Dad’s New Normal
The hardest part isn’t the pain. It’s not the hobbling around, or even the fact that I look like an old man shuffling to the toilet in the night.
The hardest part is not being able to pick up my 2-year-old. She’s my treasure, my little shadow, my cuddle monster. Having to say “no” to her outstretched arms stings more than the surgery.
But here we are: bandaged, humbled, and slightly traumatised by women’s shapewear.
If there’s one lesson for other dads out there: Don’t do sit-ups. They’re bad for your health.
Stick to dad bods — they’re safer.
The Hernia Diaries: Sit-ups were a mistake.
About the Author:
Rob Allen is a graphic designer, dad of three under six, and unwilling hernia expert. When he’s not juggling deadlines or nappies, he’s writing The Hernia Diaries from the couch — one ice pack and stool softener at a time.