In the realm of flesh and bone we dwell,
Where tales of hernias we must now tell,
A medical dance of organs astray,
In poetic form, we'll find our way.
First, the inguinal, in the groin's embrace,
A bulge, a pain, it finds its place,
Through weakened walls, it dares to roam,
Seeking escape from its rightful home.
Next, the hiatal, in the upper lands,
Where stomach wanders, no bounds it understands,
Through the diaphragm's weakened divide,
It rises, causing discomfort inside.
But there are more, in this hernia's lore,
Ventral and Incisional, we can't ignore,
Ventral, in the front, a weakened core,
Muscles part, as organs explore.
Incisional, a result of surgical strife,
Where wounds once healed, give way to life,
A protrusion emerges from a scar's embrace,
A reminder of that surgical space.
Hernias, these anomalies of our frame,
They bear discomfort, pain, and shame,
Yet in the hands of skilled surgeons' care,
They mend the breaches, so life can repair.
So remember well, these tales we share,
Of hernias, both common and rare,
In the human tapestry, they play a part,
A reminder of the body's fragile art.
