Under the Knife

[realthog]

 
On Tuesday I'm to have an angiogram/cardiac catheterization. As far as I can gather -- me, the ever-courageous male an' all -- this involves ripping apart my groin with a chain saw and then jackhammering a probe about the size of a rolling pin up through my circulatory system, shredding soft tissue as it goes, until it can take a photograph of my heart. Pam says it's a tad less traumatic than this, but then it's not her groin. All this so my cardiologist has something he can post on Facebook.

I don't imagine I'll be merrily hopping astride a stolen Harley to get home from the hospital. Indeed, it may well be that I require a year or two of convalescence, not to mention extensive counselling; I plan to take plenty of books with me. Assuming I actually make it home on Tuesday -- as all these Other, Totally Unsympathetic People say I should -- well, I expect major-league tributes to my general all-fired heroism and traditional British pluck.

(Hm. The last time I had my groin ripped apart must have been the early '70s or so. But apparently my insurance company refuses to cover cold ravioli and live marmosets.)

(What I'm really, really hoping to be able to do is get to the book party whose details you can find at http://al-zorra.livejournal.com/305706.html.)

 

Comments

[lilithsaintcrow.livejournal.com]

Dear God.

What happened to the marmosets?

Oh, and erm, my condolences. It sounds a trifle unpleasant.

[realthog.livejournal.com]

What happened to the marmosets?

Good Lord, woman -- you mean you have to ask?

[lilithsaintcrow.livejournal.com]

I ask not because I cannot envision what happened--I ask only to narrow down the events I'm imagining. So I can pick among the many Marmoset Events I can pull out of my black little brain.

[realthog.livejournal.com]

Put it like this, if you can remember what happened to the marmosets you weren't really living the '70s the way they were supposed to be lived.

[lilithsaintcrow.livejournal.com]

Considering I was born about halfway through the 70s, it's no wonder I don't remember. It's hard to do disco and blow in a nappy.

*grin*