So, this isn’t your usual gaming update. No epic loot drops. No last-minute clutch wins. No raid group screaming in celebration over voice chat. But what just happened in my life? It felt like one of the toughest boss fights I’ve ever faced—and it didn’t even involve a controller.
Let’s talk about surgery.
I’ve been dealing with a condition for a long time now. Quietly. Privately. It’s one of those chronic issues that’s not flashy, not dramatic, but just there—lurking like a background enemy slowly chipping away at your stamina bar. The kind of thing that wears on you, one point of HP at a time. After years of trying to tank through it like the stubborn player I am, I finally had to face it head-on.
And yeah, I went under the knife.
What Happened?
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Without getting too graphic (trust me, the medical notes read like a grim quest log), I had a wide excision of chronic pilonidal cysts. Basically, my lower back and gluteal area had become a battleground of inflamed tissue and painful flare-ups. The team performed a complex, multi-step procedure involving two major flap techniques—Karydakis and Bascom cleft lift—to remove the problem and reconstruct the area.
Size of the excision? 13.5 cm x 5 cm (5.31 in × 1.97 in). That’s not a typo. They weren’t playing around.
I was under general anesthesia, surrounded by a surgical team that knew what they were doing. And while I won’t name names for privacy and safety (still operating under my persona for a reason), I’ll say this—these folks were elite-tier professionals. I went in nervous and came out alive, stable, and grateful. That’s a win in any game.
Post-Op Reality Check
Waking up post-op was a weird, foggy, half-dreamlike sequence. I was drowsy, wrapped in warm blankets, and connected to more monitors than a livestream setup. I didn’t feel pain right away—thank you, anesthesia—but I felt the weight of what just happened.
Over the next few hours, I came back to my senses. No nausea, no complications, no major bleeding. The dressing was clean, the incision intact, and my vitals were holding steady. It was like the moment after you finish a tough in-game mission and the screen fades to black, then fades back in to reveal the reward: survival.
Why I’m Sharing This
You might wonder why I’m putting this out there. After all, I usually keep it light, funny, and centered around games and geekdom. But here’s the thing—healing, struggle, and resilience? That’s part of the game too. It’s not always flashy streams and killstreaks. Sometimes, the real grind is offline.
And I know some of you out there might be dealing with stuff of your own. Pain, fear, medical issues, mental burnout. This is me telling you: it’s okay to pause. It’s okay to get help. You’re not weak for taking time to heal—you’re strong as hell for facing it.
Where Do We Go From Here?
I’m not quite ready to jump back into full-stream chaos just yet. The recovery process is still underway. There’s soreness. There are limits. I’m moving slow, learning to rest (which is way harder than it sounds), and doing my best to listen to my body. But I’m getting there—one day, one step, one healing point at a time.
And you better believe I’ll be back.
When I do return to my usual gaming adventures, I’ll be bringing a new layer of appreciation with me—not just for life, but for the folks who stuck around during the quiet, supported me through the dark, and never stopped rooting for me.
You’re not just part of my community. You’re part of my party.
Keep your eyes peeled for stream updates. Until then, I’ll be over here—resting, recovering, and reminding myself that even the hardest boss fights can be beaten with the right support and enough determination.
Stay strong out there. The real world can be brutal, but it’s got its own kind of XP.
