The Irish Patient

The vast majority of my friends firmly believe that I am “lucky”. Not just lucky, but unusually so. I believe it, myself.

How many kids grow up with six older brothers to guide them along life’s journey and to straighten out wannabe tough guys? Have loving parents possessed of moral compasses that unerringly pointed True North and core beliefs in an immigrant ethos that valued hard work and resolute tenacity?

In adolescence, when we were not playing ball, my friends and I passed the time playing cards – pinochle, hearts, poker. To my friends, it seemed as though I was always shooting the moon – taking every point – which is locally known as “pulling a schnitzer”, or filling inside straights. It seemed that way to me, too.

Then I got drafted into the Army during war time, went to OCS and got commissioned as a Second Lieutenant in the Field Artillery. Half of my class went to Vietnam, the other half went to Korea. I went to Korea. We had a month’s leave before reporting for duty but I decided to report early and ended up with a relatively cushy assignment as Executive Officer of a Headquarters Company in a Support Command. There wasn’t an artillery piece within ten thousand meters. My CO and I were the only two combat arms officers in the entire command.

Was that lucky? My OCS Classmate, Lt. Jim Wolf from Chicago thought so. When he arrived in Korea, two weeks after me and saw where I had landed, he marveled admiringly “Ferry, I just knew you’d end up in a place like this!”

Plus, I’ve never been sick. Ever. I had a pretty easy paper route.

So you can imagine my surprise to learn a few months ago that I had Stage Two Prostate Cancer. Me. The only one out of seven brothers.

So now it can be told. That’s why you haven’t seen much new content on the site these past several weeks. When I haven’t been consuming vast expanses of time having my constituent parts photographed or prepping for those sessions, I’ve been utilizing my spare time to hold the practice together, leaving very little time to post new content.

Fortunately, I am making a rapid recovery from having my “sowing machine” removed just nine days ago. Thanks to advanced surgical techniques involving robotic technology that minimizes the invasiveness of the procedure, I was home the next day. And thanks to the wonderful care that Lady Agag is providing, the Irish Patient is recovering apace and looking forward to upcoming speaking engagements.

Come out and see me.