My wife is officially in remission from the cancer that almost killed her five years ago. To celebrate, last week she finally had the chemotherapy port in her chest removed.

The port was about the size of a gopher's head and installed under the skin. It enabled doctors to administer a mixture of insecticide, toilet-bowl cleaner, WD-40 and Dr Pepper directly into her heart.

I am not complaining. Chemotherapy is nasty stuff, but it saved her life even if it almost killed her.

Douglas Lichti originally installed the port. He also removed the tumors in her abdomen. We noticed right away that he did all of this without accidentally removing one of her legs. It made perfect sense then to go back to him.

You can't be too careful these days. By all accounts, Doc Lichti is a highly qualified surgeon. But he might not be as highly qualified as a television-commercial attorney.

"Hi. My name is attorney Ralph Ramjob and I'm 10 times smarter than your doctor. Let me help you get half of the huge malpractice settlement we deserve."

True, serious medical mistakes do happen. I heard a rumor that a New York doctor accidentally left a barbecue grill inside a patient. Another doctor transplanted a viable liver into the wrong patient's head.

Malpractice lawsuits have forced doctors to take unusual measures. Before my wife was wheeled into the operating room at the surgical center, she was given a Magic Marker and told to mark the location of her chemo port with an X.

This seemed rather pointless given that the port was clearly poking out of her chest like a knob on a Japanese stereo. Hell, I could see it, and I failed Boy Scout first aid.

On another gurney, a patient waiting to have his knee scoped was asked to write "yes" on the appropriate knee. If anyone there was having a colonoscopy, I'll bet that was interesting.

Maybe this sort of patient participation cuts down on surgical mistakes. Maybe it just reduces doctors' liability. I asked the medical staff. They said it was just one more way of making sure everything went according to plan.

When I asked if I came back for a vasectomy would I have to draw a smiley face on each of my ovaries, they told me to have a seat in the waiting room.

Malpractice litigation must be worse than I thought. Do expectant mothers have to draw these helpful diagrams: "Baby comes out here" with an arrow?

It's inevitable that I'll need surgery again. Just to be safe, I'll spend the entire night before writing "Do Not Remove" on things I want to keep. Just for laughs, I might write "Backup rectum" on my belly button.

I couldn't be a surgeon. It's against the law. But If I were one, patients diagramming their parts wouldn't be enough. I would refuse to operate on anyone who wasn't fully aware of what was going on, especially if it were an attorney.

"This here is your occipital thingamajig, Mr. Smith. Do you want me to cut that for you? Scream once for yes, and twice for no."

Robert Kirby is a columnist. Reach him at rkirby@sltrib.com