My Three Valves

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Abstract
“Whatever you say, you say nothing.” When I was asked to write an editorial on my personal experiences with heart-valve surgery, that pithy phrase of Seamus Heaney, succinctly expressing the Catholic code of silent speech in Northern Ireland, came to mind. That code had leapt from Belfast to the town where I grew up, a working-class community of hills, mills, and churches in Massachusetts. The code was strong enough so that during the time I possessed my native aortic valve (which I will here term the era of valve I), few people other than my family knew of my illness. . . .

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