Recovery Escapades: A Newsletter Of 2nd Chance Life Across Cardiac County Line Road
"Dive! Dive! Dive!"
Over time the main chunk of artery rising from my heart bulged. Swelled just a tad - from two and a half to just under five centimeters in diameter.
For me and most folk, 2.5 centimeters is normal. For everybody a 100% diameter increase to 5.0 cm is more than just a tad.
Five is where a blinking yellow traffic lights at sleepy small town intersections go nuts, turn into klaxon horns replete with screams of "Dive! Dive! Dive!". Like in old WWII submarine movies.
Submarine movies - a genre of old B&W epic drama that picks up the pace all sudden like. All just because somebody thinks that the little speck dot on the horizon might be a Japanese Zero with a depth charge.
Kinda skittish not to wait and see up close before over reacting.
Kinda like what happens when Soviet bomber icons move quick and funny on a room sized map at the Strategic Air Command's mountain lair. Lotsa people dressed in similar blue outfits start moving around fast, a lot of shouting goes on, and antiperspirent deodorants get put to the maximum test. All just because some little bomber shaped icon thingies crossed the Artic Circle.
Again, maybe a little too sensitve, insecure even?
Btw, for me the blinking and scurrying for my five centimeter icon definitely occurred at the SAC mountain lair in Colorado. It did NOT happen in some evil overlord mountain lair mind you; for I am a good guy.
I would never be hanging out at the evil overlord's joint unless I was dispatching his henchmen. Or maybe working on undercover assignment, with a hall pass. That then would be OK. Cause my Mom taught me to be careful about who I hung out with. You know, choose your friends real careful cause they influence you. So for me it's Strategic Air Command, for sure.
Oh, and subs - the submarine dive scene? Definitely an American sub, no Nazi or Japanese subs for me. Maybe a British one but I really like "Dive! Dive! Dive!" way more than "Zero? Right. Down a bit please, and do hurry on with it". Yeah, very likely not a British sub. No drama there.
Just under 5 centimeters, eh? Well, my actual sighting of diameter = 4.95 centimeters on an MRI scan was not as dramatic as the sighting of enemy aircraft. But in my little curl of the blood gurgling world, 5 centimeters is too dramatic not to act.
So I acted dramatically. I called forth for a hero. A masked man, skilled with a knife. No, not a Ninja, let's be clear. A cardiac surgeon. Although if there was a cult of orphaned Ninja surgeons trained in med school monk temples since childhood in Cardiac/Pulmonary repair and very important independent of all evil overlords I would have interviewed them as candidates. Definitely. Because that would be best of both worlds, see? Dramatic, as well as professionally competent.
Oh, how I love drama. I love drama so much I married it. Twice. If you don't believe that I love drama, interview either of my ex-wives.
My 2nd ex didn't stick around long to participate in the drama of these Recovery Escapades. But to that I say, S'OK. S'All Good Darlins. All OK, and All Good. I say that a lot nowdays. I say it because I am alive to tell. Living a little more drama free, no drama queens just the drama king in a live solo performance.
Alive because my cardiac surgeon is one good fix it up plumber - even if he never did attend monk temple Ninja med school as an orphan since childhood.
Yours truly and ridiculouslyFrom across Cardiac County Line Road,James Sullivan
1 comment:
Very entertaining post. Liked the war story angle, the cardiac surgeon's description, and the bit of personal history. Good mood prevails, even down to the admission of being a drama king with a magnanimous twist!
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