see you. Don't get emotional, I don't want
your endocrine system in an uproar." The doctor stepped out into the
corridor.

* * * * *

Emotional. He mustn't think about it. He might weaken, consent to linger
on, an invalid, just to be with Vivian a few extra years. Extra years of
indignities calculated to twist the man-woman relationship into an ugly
distortion. How romantic it would be, he and Vivian locked in an
embrace, the silky softness of her hair falling across his arm, the
pressure of her fingers on his back. And then, instead of placing his
mouth against her ear and whispering the familiar intimacies, he would
switch on the light, disengage himself so that he could whip out a pad
and pencil and ...

His heart skipped at the sound pattern of high heels on the corridor.
Vivian, Vivian. Her perfume pricked his senses and it took effort to
shut out the emotional response. "Remember the need for an alternate
plan," he reminded himself fiercely and then looked up into his wife's
clear green eyes. Without a word she bent down and lay her face next to
his. He was struck with the warmth of her. He gently pushed her head
away. "Vi." (My Lord, his eyes were wet ... what a schoolboy
performance!) "Vi, you know I don't want to go on here ... if radical
surgery is necessary. I want you to remember me as a whole man, not
a ... dummy."

"Bart, oh Bart." There was a frown of apprehension on her forehead. She
sighed heavily and whispered, "Can it make so much difference when I
love you Bart?"

"But don't you see, Vi? It may not be Bart Neely they wheel back here
after the operation." He motioned for her to bend closer for the sound
of his voice was becoming weaker. "In my field I've seen a lot of crazy
reactions to loss of basic ability. Personality reversals brought about
by loss of hearing, impotency, or even the inability to bear a child."
He stroked the back of her hand with his finger. "Bart Neely without a
voice-box might be a stranger. I'm not sure you'd like him. I don't
think I'd even like him."

An intern backed into the room followed by a gurney. Bart shot a look at
Vi. "This is plan A."

Vi's eyebrows arched in a question.

"Exploration and ..." he paused; the nurse tucked a dark gray blanket
all around him. He raised his thin white hand and crossed two fingers ...
"and we hope, a negative biopsy."

* * * * *

There was no pain. Whatever the