Body Parts I Do Not Have

The older I get, the less it takes to flummox me, and the more likely it seems that something will occur to do so. After today, I went to bed early and just laid there quietly for a while, my head partially covered by the sheet. No kidding. Seriously stressed by the press of events, the least of which was --

My wife suggested that it might be possible that this repair to my upper arm would set off airport security scanners -- BEEEP! Freeze, you bastard! Flat on the floor! Spread 'em! Well, actually, um, sir, I had hemiarthroscopic surgery on that arm, so as a result it doesn't actually straighten all the -.....AIEEEE!!! It does now, terrorist scum! -- so we asked the doctor, who said yeah, possible, we'll Give You A Card to prove to the TSA that you didn't have a bomb inserted in your left upper humerus. Well, cool. I had something snappy in mind, something in glowing colors with my name in Gothic Script saying that I am cybernetic, so Scanners, Pass Me By.

What I got was a generic card with a space to write in my name, the 'prosthetic' warning in small letters on the front, and a huge warning on the back that, basically, any kind of medical procedure could result in me getting infected, with seriously unpleasant consequences to the arm. That wasn't bad enough, but one of the procedures that could seriously harm me, without appropriate prior administration of antibiotics, was: Vaginal Examination.

I'm gonna need a lot of antibiotics, I think.