I've told this before, but it seems appropriate here.
I was one week off open heart surgery in October 1994.
I had also just received my first Busse ever, a BBSH2.
I was sitting in the recliner in our den with my pajana top unbuttoned. I had an ugly red, scabby, oozing cut down my chest, and three similar punctures where the drain tubes had been. I was fondling and examining the knife
when Kim, then 13, walked through with a kid from the neighborhood trailing along. She introduced us, and I noticed that he kept eyeing my chest and the knife. So as they were walking away, I said, "Son, you should have seen the loser."
He never came back for some reason. Kim laughs about it, now. She wasn't so thrilled then.