I am as squeamish as anyone when it comes to entertaining gore. I can't watch Napoleon McCallum replays. I cringe at stories that involve a nail through the foot or an arm in the thresher.

So it is remarkable that I can report that I was fully conscious and fully aware as my ophthalmologist stuck a surgical instrument directly into my eye to suck out my old lens in a swirl of fluid that spun darkly under the surgical light. With a few tugs and prods he replaced the old lens with an artificial and decidedly less clouded one. Because I felt zero pain and zero anxiety (Oh to have a sack of those little joy pills to take the edge off) I can't summon any queasiness at all when I recount the story.

I am more than a little annoyed that I like the Viking coach. He seems like a great person. I hope he recovers the health of his sight, realizes where he is, and leaves for someplace less Vikingish.