Is there anything to say about etiological-extrinsic-cardiomyopathy that hasn't already been said? Frankly, I have no idea. My eyes always start to glaze over whenever anyone raises that subject, and so the entire etiological-extrinsic-cardiomyopathy discussion remains a closed book to me. I suppose I should be interested considering my condition, but life is too short, even if a general familiarity with the basics of etiological-extrinsic-cardiomyopathy might actually lengthen mine by a year or two.
Fortunately, since I've left the hospital, stethoscope-toting medicos no longer stop by my bedside to deliver their incomprehensible, multisyllabic lectures about what's wrong with my heart and arteries. However, sometimes listening to the perfunctory doctors was worse than not listening to the long-winded ones, since they would insist on calling my Coronary Artery Bypass Graft by its unpleasant acronym: CABG.
"When is your cabbage scheduled?" they would ask, as if my heart was being stuffed with some sort of boiled leaf vegetable: a permanent Saint Patrick's Day feast in my chest.
But all that is ancient history now. My recovery began with slow and steady progress but is speeding up in installments. Each installment seems to unveil a new me: a more active me; a less achy me; a me who is occasionally forgetting that he ever experienced surgery. Indeed, I can barely remember how it felt to require assistance when standing and shuffling two feet across the floor. It's rather like paying off a large debt: there is a little less interest to pay each month as the debt declines.
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I suppose that's the only good thing about any disease: that you temporarily learn to appreciate how good it is to be without it.
Posted by: Laurent | August 29, 2011 at 12:03
Well at least they haven't begun to call you, superannuated bilious effluvium yet, which in the common tongue just means, "old fart!" 'Cause for a minute there I was sure you were just trying to impress us with all those big unpronounceable words.
There is of course the proper procedure for procedural processing, which you must properly produce before you may proceed.
Just as I'm sure you know that, "Fighting on your own hook," is now more elegantly rendered, "Waging war upon the individuality of your personal curve."
It's just all in how you say it.
Posted by: Giric | August 29, 2011 at 22:06
I humbly apologize for my silly remarks yesterday. My only excuse is lack of sleep and too much canning. My 70 quarts of peaches are done as well as 12 quarts of tomato's. Pears are coming on fast and I don't know if I have the energy it takes anymore to do them. God bless my 26 year old son for his help or I don't know how I could have done it at all.
The peach picking and canning was a real gaga saga. Didn't get to pick until it was nearly dark.Picking a peach tree up a tall ladder in the dark is an experience I don't wish to repeat. Fruit was so ripe, it kept dripping down my arms.I had to go directly home and begin canning. Started at 9:00 p.m. finished at 4:30 a.m. Fell into bed got up at 8:30 a.m. and went to work. (Rinse and repeat) Will someone please explain to me why everything must ripen at once?! Well in truth it doesn't, but one just follows the other so close it seems endless. Pears are next, then comes our big apples. At least having the largest apples in the world helps make applesauce making easier.
As I said before, sorry Stephen I didn't mean to be a smart aleck. I wish you long life, good health, and happiness. As well as a speedy recovery.
P.S. I almost forgot the 18 quarts of pickles, but whose counting?! More cukes in the fridge, who was the crazy fool that planted this garden anyway?! Oh that's right, it was me! Sooooo tired, must sleeeep!
Posted by: Giric | August 31, 2011 at 14:09
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Author is looking upset, we wish best of luck to him.
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