Day whatever of recovery, and the hernia rules are clear: no lifting more than 5kg. Simple, right? Until you realise Woolies groceries don’t get delivered to your pantry, only to your front door…
One Bag at a Time? Nope.
Normally, I’m a “bring it all in one go” kind of dad.
Load up each arm with six bags, a pack of nappies hooked on my pinky, and a watermelon balanced against my chin. Two trips max. Dad pride intact.
But now? I’m the guy unloading the boot like it’s a game of Operation.
One item. At a time.
Milk in.
Back to the door.
Box of Weet-Bix in.
Back to the door.
Up n Go in.
Back to the door.
The neighbours must think I’ve finally lost the plot.
Public Humiliation
There’s something deeply humbling about carrying a single cucumber into the house like it’s the Olympic torch.
Meanwhile, the kids are like commentators:
“Why is Daddy walking so slow?”
“Why is Daddy carrying one Jumpie's packet?”
Because, kids, Daddy’s intestines will fall out if he dares carry two.
The Final Straw
By trip 27, I was ready to give up. The dog was judging me. My partner was judging me. The delivery driver probably drove past and judged me.
But the true humiliation came when I had to carry in the toilet paper — one roll at a time. Nothing screams “this man is broken” like slowly shuffling a single roll of Quilton across the floor.
Dad Lesson Learned
Hernias don’t just break your body. They break your shopping technique, your pride, and possibly your marriage if your partner has to watch you take 40 trips to bring in the groceries.
At least the upside is… Actually, no. There is no upside.
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.
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