Jim Chastain: Sometimes you feel like a man of steel

So I have this titanium pump inside my stomach that’s about the size of a Big Mac. Well, it’s difficult to tell exactly how thick it is, but it’s about as wide as a Big Mac. And it’s much harder, unless you’re talking about one of those Big Macs that somehow got shoved under your car seat for a couple of weeks.

Anyway, the pump was used to inject chemo directly into my liver for a few months. Unfortunately, it didn’t give us the outcome we wanted, and now it just sits there, dormant.

The thing causes me fits at airports. I set off the alarm every time, of course, so that means I have to be put in one of those special rooms and then wanded and frisked like a common criminal. Oh, the airport people are always nice and respectful and careful with my curious right side, but it’s a bit embarrassing, and it takes so much time.

Plus, they always ask me to raise my arms, and then they don’t quite know what to do or say when I only raise the one. "Sorry, that’s all I got,” is my typical joke. Freaks them out.

And I also set off the alarms at the state Capitol building, where I work. Frustrating thing is that the people who are stationed there change all the time.

Most of them know me and tell the police officer on duty that I’m OK. "He’s got a pump,” they say. And usually the officer nods and says, "Oh,” as if this bit of information explains anything.

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