Today I am writing in this rambling writ something nobody wants to read. However, it is also something everyone wants to tell about when it happens to them. I believe cosmic justice ought to allow everyone to talk about it once and only once. I am referring, of course, to my recent gall bladder attack. It was a first for me but one of my doctors told me that half the people on the planet have had their gall bladders removed. So at least half of you, dear sufferers, can identify with me. I have known some people who still talk about their attacks even though they happened more than thirty years ago. I promise never again to bring the subject up.

     The pain started at midnight. By 2:00 AM I was twisted into a knot of misery. It was like, I imagine, a boa constrictor had wrapped itself and had squeezed all but the last breath out of your beloved padre. With that last breath, I gasped to my beloved helpmate, “Please take me to the hospital!” We rolled into the Emergency Room at about 2:30. For two days I stayed in intensive care while it was determined that my bad heart was not the culprit. I rediscovered what a blessing morphine can be in certain circumstances. They did a nuclear stress test on me to check my heart. Then I got a break to allow the nuclear stuff to dissipate and did a nuclear scan of my abdomen. They didn’t want to have me so radioactive that I would glow in the dark. I told my sweet Judy to call Dick Chaney and tell him we have a weapon of mass destruction right here in Baghdad by the Catawba.

     The nuclear scan of my abdomen was sort of like an MRI. They stick you part way into a big machine where you lie motionless for one hour and get bombarded with these nuclear thingies. A few inches above your eyes is a monitor on which you can watch what is happening. It looks like a view of the heavens. Against a black background are countless little pinpricks of light—like stars in a galaxy. Slowly they move and take shape before your eyes.

     For about 45 minutes I watched the screen but nothing made sense to me. The technician pointed out a vacant spot on the screen which he said was my gall bladder but I never saw anything there. So my interest waned. Then a bit later I returned my eyes to the screen to see a face beginning to emerge as the dots began to take a new shape. It was engrossing. I was supposed to see my gallbladder but, I wondered, am I going to see the face of God? Quickly, definition became more distinct and then I recognized the face. It was the face of Massachusetts Congressman Barney Frank! I knew right then that either I was still under the influence of morphine or I had been watching too much cable television coverage of the economic crisis.

     The technician then announced that the test was not producing enough information. The goal was to sludge—I love these scientific words—in my gall bladder. So he pulled me out of the machine and walked me around a bit. Then he put me back in for a few minutes to no avail. Finally, he told me he was going to inject some stuff to stir up my offending part in hopes it would give a better picture. Eventually, after about two hours, he announced, “We’re done.” As he removed me from the machine, he said, “Wow! Are you breathing okay? I forgot to hook up your oxygen when we started this!” I thought to myself, “'Wow!' is not a word you want to hear in a place like this.”

     Well, I’m awaiting surgery now. It will all be over by the time you read this. In light of our proximity to Hiddenite, North Carolina and the gem mining up there, I asked the doctor if there’s any chance I might get an emerald out of this. She gave me no hope of that. So, I’ll show you my stones only if I get something sufficiently precious to look good in a fine piece of jewelry. Otherwise they will become part of the aggregate in the material to rebuild the highway infrastructure of North Carolina. Just my little contribution to economic recovery in these United States of America!

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