I thought I might weigh in as someone who wears and loves both a nice mechanical watch and an Apple Watch (S6), and who (coincidentally) has had two hernia repairs.
Tl;dr: get a Santos, get back into exercise when you can, and then maybe get an Apple Watch.
I say go for the Santos first. For all the reasons @Pilot Jones
listed, but also because it speaks to you, and the Apple Watch doesn't. Don't spend hundreds of dollars on a digital paper weight that will become obsolete in a handful of years when what you want is a mechanical classic that never will. I wear my Yacht-Master every day, and I love it as much as the first day I put it on. It's beautiful, functional, timeless, and fun. So is a Santos. If you can afford it, treat yourself to a Santos.
An Apple Watch, on the other hand, isn't timeless and its beauty is subjective, but it's exceptional for what it's for — and for me it's for exercise. I mentioned the two hernias: the second was because I didn't get back into fitness after fixing the first (which was an exercise injury, ironically). I encourage you, dear stranger, to reconsider getting back into fitness, if even just very light stuff (walking a treadmill, yoga, ride a bike, pull-ups/pull-downs, pushups, whatever). Keeping your core toned to a minimal degree will help you to avoid the "pleasure" of another hernia. Trust me. And once you're back into it, you might find you want to wear an Apple Watch to keep track of your workouts, however light. You might also come to find it extremely useful for tracking your health, as I do (heart rate, heart rhythm, activity of any sort, sleep, etc).
I hiked the Grand Canyon last weekend, and I wore my Yacht-Master on my left wrist and my Apple Watch on my right. Did I care how I looked? Not at all. And neither did anyone else. The Apple Watch brought the utility I needed to track my physical condition and my surroundings as well as my progress. But the mechanical watch brings me more than utility: it brings me joy. And that's why I wear it on adventures like the Canyon. One day, my Rolex will be someone else's — a son or daughter if I have any, or my niece if I don't — and all of the stories it holds will be theirs with it; all of the scratches it accumulates will tell them where it's been and what it's for. No one will inherit an Apple Watch.
Get your Santos. Love it. Wear it. Scratch it. Live in it. And then pass that living on to someone else when you're done with it.