I must admit, I thought I'd get a lot more mileage out my bypass surgery than I have. It's mostly forgotten by just about everybody, including me. When I take a shower and see the scar, I'm often taken aback and then I remember. Mostly I don't think about it. These things are so routine these days. And every body's doing it. It's no longer a novelty.

I was shaving at the Y this afternoon when I heard a voice next to me say, "I see you're a member of the club?" I turned to the voice trying to think of what club he might be referring too. "Excuse me?" I said. He pointed at his chest and I could see a scar down the middle of his sternum. Clearly, he'd had bypass surgery as well. His scar was barely discernible though, whereas mine is very visible still. I asked when he had his surgery and told him when I had mine and that was that. Just when I was thinking no one would ever notice. I've been waiting for somebody to ask what the scar is all about.

People were much more accepting of the heart surgery than they were of the prostate cancer surgery I had a few years ago. Friends disappeared in droves. Uh, oh. I fear I may have just lost you too, dear reader. As happened when I told friends of my impending surgery. It's that word. You know to which word I refer. I can only think that the fear the word is so great that some people just can't remain in proximity to it, spoken, written or walking around. They were my friends, too.

I have a hard time with the word too. Not so much with saying it, but now, as I type the word and see it on the page in front of me, I feel a bit uncomfortable. Embarrassed? Afraid? I'm not sure. I'm OK now. I was a lucky man. I am a very fortunate man. I really have nothing to be embarrassed about. So why am I?

I lost track of where I was going with this as soon as I typed the word.
Man, this is silly!

I'm going to excuse myself and say goodnight. Goodnight!


"You telling me you don't want to go?"

"I reckon that's about it. Yeah. I don't.
I don't want to go."

"You sure?"

"I'm damned sure. You bet I'm sure."

"Ok. If you're positive."

" I told you I was sure. Damned sure.
Positive. Man alive. What else do I got
to say? I do not--even if God came down
and asked me personally--I do not, now or ever---want to go to that meeting of scoundrels and lawyers. Do I make myself real clear?"

"Then I'll just go on without you. If that's alright. I'll just get on along by my lonesome."

"Thank you."

"Alright then. I'm outta here."

"Thank you. Have a nice time and please don't ask me again if I want to go."


Married to the Sea