When I was a boy I had my tonsils removed.
One night in the hospital and a week of ice cream and some love from my mom and I was fine.
A couple years later I had a tumor come up on my chest, a swipe with a surgeon's knife, a life long scar and I was fine.
At thirty I had knee surgery, six weeks of healing, a life long scar and I was fine.
At forty-five I had rotator cuff surgery, eleven weeks of recovery, a life long scar and I was fine.
At forty-eight I became unhappy, I've had seventeen years of recovery and I'm still unhappy. The wound is still open and won't seem to scar.
It's strange how our bodies can give out, break, be repaired, scar and injury forgotten. But when unhappiness creeps it's way into our lives and our minds, surgery is not an option so there's no scar to close the wound. The best you can hope for is a callus to harden the memories.