The Procedure
Atlanta, GA
June 19, 2019
Many of you…like craven empty-nesters who forgot to buy candy on Halloween night…locked the doors, turned off the lights, and cowered under the kitchen table.
When my employer relieved me of my job like a beached whale pushed back into to the sea, you no doubt shuddered in dreary expectation that my free time would hook up with my loose thoughts to spawn a flurry of daily missives that no one would be able to support.
Fear not. You can unclench your teeth, un-batten the hatches, release that deep breath…and relax.
Being deprived of solitude on flights or in hotels, and occupied reinforcing my network, refurbishing our house, and reacquainting myself with those living in it, I have had less time to write than I might have expected or you may have feared.
Even today, I will be brief…and will then hand the reins to a guest contributor to provide, better than I ever could, both play-by-play and color commentary for an age-appropriate procedure I endured a couple weeks ago.
After checking in, being shown to my room, and meeting the anesthesiologist, I became aware that my doctor was a bit caught off-guard by the unique nature of my case.
Reviewing my chart, flipping pages several times to ensure he read them correctly, he looked with astonishment at the assisting nurse, and then back at me…as if I really were a broke Nigerian prince.
“I don’t know that I’ve ever had a case like this before.”
Looking at her but pointing at me, he affirmed, “this guy is actually doing this while he is still fifty!”
Not that I am some sort of saint (or sadist). Were it not for family history on the Breen side, I probably would have delayed or avoided the ordeal altogether.
As it was, all was fine and no malignancies were detected…aside from a plethora of deeply embedded thoughts and opinions that medical professionals are apparently incapable of removing.
The good news is they can be extricated. The bad news is that only I can do so. And, using the scalpel of these epistles, they are pulled out with some…(ahem)…regularity.
But you already knew that. So…
Having already provided the end (sorry – I am master of the single entendre), I leave the body…and the details…of the story to Dave Barry.
JD
