Monday, August 10, 2009

They Cut Big Pat's Throat

Vertically, not horizontally. They sliced his left carotid and rooted out the gunk. He's crashing at our place for a bit until his dancing shoes come back from cobbler. (That's a metaphor, specifically a kind of metonymy.)

He said the doc said not to expect a hundred new flowers of wisdom and/or inspiration to blossom inside his skull as the blood rushes in afresh -- he was down to one percent flow, though that one percent produced a pressure condition (or something) that allowed the surgery to be done. Complete occlusion and the docs would have backed away, so they told Pat. All the surgery did was prevent the inevitable stroke, death, decomposition, etc. It would have been very sad and messy, so the operation was worth the inconvenience.

But I don't quite see how all that grand new blood can fail to give the old thought box a jumpstart. E. told Pat that she had noticed how pasty he was looking in recent months, but that now he is an absolutely lovely pink.

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