Just when I was starting to have nightmares like the illustration at right (a medieval hernia operation), I had my appointment with a local surgeon, who poked and prodded and finally concluded that I didn't have anything remotely worth operating upon. Probably just a strain, a slight tear, and some inflammation. Big sigh of relief. Dr. R. looked like a soap opera doctor, and when, in the course of our conversation, he learned that I had trained as a classicist (before hitting the big time as a blogger), he promptly quoted the entire first line of the Aeneid. When was the last time a handsome man quoted Vergil to you, told you to drop your pants, and jabbed you repeatedly in the scrotum? Well, that was my day.