I realized this morning that I hadn’t provided any details about my surgery tomorrow morning. I also will own up to why: I was embarrassed. I still am; this is embarrassing to write.

But I am either open, or I am not. And I am. There are no awful or bloody details here, just some truth.

The surgery has to do with my lower plumbing, particularly my bladder and prostate. As most of you know, men urinate a lot more as they get older.

This is because the prostate – which exists only to create semen and has no other meaningful purpose – closes up as the body ages and blocks the bladder and urine flow.

This means I have to urinate a lot, which often keeps me awake, which affects my sleep, which affects my heart.

It also means the bladder has to work hard. There are good reasons to fix this if it is possible.

Cardiologists fret about bladder and prostate issues because they make the heart work harder in ways I don’t understand, but I am assured they are true.

I wasn’t going to do anything about this – I wrote it off as another inevitable part of aging – but blood tests suggested I might have bladder or prostate cancer.

The tests revealed that I don’t have cancer of any kind, but I had to go to a urologist to find that out. It turns out that it was a lucky move.

Dr. Seth Capello is a wonderful physician, open, funny, and caring.

I’ve avoided seeing a urologist; I’ve heard too many stories about what happens to men. But I’ve learned not to hide from the realities of aging.

Hiding from one’s own health is not very intelligent, of course; sometimes you need a hand to be healthy and live your life. And to avoid diabetes and heart attacks. I think hiding kills a lot more men than sickness and disease.

I won’t speak poorly of getting help, not anymore.

I also saw the problem Dr.Cepello was talking about, graphically revealed on a screen above my head, live while my body and dignity were grossly invaded.

The bladder has to push the urine through the prostate to get to the urinary tract and out into the world. As I get older, it gets harder and harder. Dr. Cepello actually had me feeling sorry for my bladder.

As the prostate shrinks due to age, the bladder must work harder to get the urine through the prostate and out into the world. This causes frequent urination.

The prostate is a square mass of tissue; it is split open in the middle. Mine, like many men in their 70’s, is closing up. Dr. Capello means to open it.

The good doctor is free of the machismo or remoteness and poor social skills of many of his male colleagues. He seems to love what he does – amazing in itself – and that is infectious. And he actually likes talking to people.

He describes himself as a plumber who wants to fix my plumbing. I admit I never thought of it that way, but it makes sense.

He had Maria and I laughing out loud as he pantomimed the struggle between the prostate and the bladder. And the exam was not something I would normally laugh about.

He explained that the prostate is tired and closed up; the bladder is sick of the prostate and pissed off.

“It wants a raise,” he said, “it is tired of pushing the urine through the prostate.”

Then came an intriguing surprise.

There is a new procedure, just a few years old, that permits a surgeon to enter the body through the male penis and staple the prostate open so that the bladder can get a raise, as you will.

Dr.Capello has performed it many times, and many men are not eligible for it – their prostate is not shaped properly. He was delighted, he said, to tell me I was a perfect candidate for this surgery.

He seemed really happy for me, and so I decided to be really happy for me too.

I said yes right away; I would love to sleep more at night.

You can see why I was wary of going into detail; it makes me wince when I think about it.

But it’s a good idea, and once again, I am fortunate to be able to benefit from new medical technologies that will keep me healthier and safer for some time.

My heart catheterizations were nothing short of a miracle, and so is this new procedure. It is surgery. It is taken seriously, I will be asleep under anesthesia, and the operation will take place in an operating room in the hospital.

I am grateful for it. I was amazed when Dr. Capello explained this procedure. Like my heart procedures, it would not have been possible even a few years ago.

The surgery will be performed at Saratoga Hospital, the land of the skilled, warm, and helpful nurses and the doctors who actually speak to their patients.

Maria will be outside the hospital or walking around or reading somewhere while I am in the operating room. The doctor will call her when it’s over.

With luck, I will be home sometime Monday afternoon. If possible, we will head for Vermont Wednesday morning and return Friday, Christmas Day.

I expect to be blogging right up to Wednesday morning, but not again until Friday.

From what I am told, there will be some discomfort and pain for a while, nothing compared to open-heart surgery. I feel like an old farmhouse being lovingly restored by outlanders who relish the past.

But I’m not sure what recovery will be luck. I’ve been advised to expect several possibilities.

It is important to me to be open – I promised I would be open when I started the blog in 2007. So far, I’ve kept my promise; I couldn’t bear breaking it now.

We have no secrets from one another. That always makes me feel lighter.

Thanks for all your good words and wishes. And even for bad advice.

(Bladder Sketch By Maria Wulf, noted fiber artist.)