That second weekend after my surgery, my wife’s sister Pat flew in to visit and they came to my room just after I had been enjoying my first shower in over a week. Part of my opinion about the hospital food was probably caused by the smell of not having showered for so long. I had looked forward to this moment like almost nothing I could remember. The nurse taped a plastic bag over my sutures and then placed a chair in the shower stall for me to sit on. After giving me a fresh change of clothes she left me to enjoy my shower. I luxuriated in the steaming hot water for a long time and reflected at length about how great it was to be alive.

As soon as my visitors arrived I found I was short of chairs and then remembered the missing chair in the shower stall. No sooner had my rear end hit the plastic cushion of the chair than a loud whooshing sound could be heard and a stream of water shot out of the bottom of the chair onto the floor. Somehow, I managed to spring to my feet so quickly that my legs were barely wet, even though I should have been soaked. I was feeling pretty proud that I had avoided getting splashed, but when I looked up I realized that the best part was the look on the faces of my guests. They were staring at me in horror, thinking I had sprung a leak just as I was sitting down. After I explained what had happened we all laughed until our sides ached. I couldn’t remember anything so funny as the expression on the faces of my wife and her sister as they thought I was coming apart at the seams right before their eyes.