I returned to the doctor yesterday to have my stitches removed following the recent biopsy on a curious spot on my shoulder. After sliding out the black thread and assuring me I would be able to wear a two-piece swimsuit this summer, Dr. Jeff told me the results from the biopsy were in and everything was fine.

"No cancer," he said. "However,"

He let the word hand dramatically. That's just what you want in life, a doctor with a sense of theater.

"However?" I prompted.

"The pathologist comments that the area is comprised of a lot of scar tissue."

"That is odd," I said. "I have absolutely no recollection of ever being wounded there. I stabbed my armpit once with a tomato stake, but nothing in the shoulder."

I too can have a sense of theater.

"There's a story there," Dr. Jeff said over his glasses.

"Well, if you're going to make stilts out of tomato stakes, you can't put the pointy end down," I argued. "They would just get stuck in the ground."

"Of course." Dr. Jeff is used to me after all these years.

"But no wound to the shoulder," I swing the discussion back to my special area. "That must be where the space aliens leave their implants."

Another look over the glasses. "Go get some lunch."

He was too quick to dismiss my theory. I can only assume they have gotten to him. I will have to keep a close eye on Dr. Jeff.