I KNEW it was only a matter of time, but the surgeons scalpel is about to catch up with me.

No, I am not talking about the long-suffering Mrs Kendall finally cracking, it’s a cutter from Melbourne.

Last Friday I was panicking about a newly-discovered lump in my groin, not too painful just a lump.

In short, I have a hernia. My GP described it as substantial. I might add at this point she seemed wildly amused at the thought of me having to be probed with sharp instruments.

Maybe it’s her technique to calm a nervous patient, but whatever, it kept me in a good mood for a while.

I reckon I have been lifting too many feed bags or cutting too much wood, but whatever the reason it’s the operating table for me.

I am not too cut up about it (ha), but I am heading into uncharted territory.

Never had the joys of surgery, never had a general anaesthetic, only been a day patient or had a few scrapes as a youngster.

It’s not something I am looking forward to, but I guess it will be an experience.

I was wandering up the road to pick up a coffee this week with “Chloe” from the office and I mentioned the Op.

“Don’t want to scare you,” she said, obviously about to put the fear of God into me.

“But my uncle had a similar operation and he was very ill and lost his memory.”

I was slightly thrown, thinking my groin is nowhere near my brain, unlike some men, but I guess he got an infection.

“It took him months to get better,” Chloe continued.

By now we were at the coffee hatch and we ordered and stood back to wait.

“I suppose it’s a bit like a colic in a horse,” Chloe said.

I agreed, not really sure.

“My mum had a horse with colic once, it was really ill, it had to be put down.”

Whether this was supposed to make me feel better I have no idea, but I think Chloe should stay clear of nursing or psychology.

She may have a future as a stand up comedian though, it gave me a laugh, sort of.

Anyway, I am in the mode for surgery now, fussing and worrying until it’s all done.

My biggest worry is the after-care left in the hands of Mrs K.

As a vet she may treat me like the colicy horse if I don’t make good quickly.

That should gee me up for recovery.