 The plot thickens! | Andy? I know you’re in there, dude. Remember, we met almost a week ago. We need to talk, Andy; I don't want us to part on bad terms. I just want my life back, my future. I want normal again. Okay, a new normal. Whatever! |
Listen, man; I have no intention of allowing you the last word in MY life story.
Yes, I am painfully aware that anywhere from 10 to 30 percent of people with a pulmonary embolism die within 30 days of your debut. You’re one bad ass, Andy; I’ll give you that.
But understand this, Andy; it takes one to know one. The way I see it, anywhere from 70 to 90 percent of people diagnosed with a blood clot in their lung survive the ordeal.
No! That’s not all I’ve got.
I’ve got blood thinners, now, too. No more interlopers showing up on my doorstep! No more rip roaring trips to the ER! No more drafty hospital gowns! No more Code Blue/Red/Purple/whatever-color-of-the-rainbow rollercoaster rides you got for me.
What's with all the gloom and doom anyway?
Yeah, I know the blood thinners can’t touch you specifically, Andy. But one day soon, God willing (yeah, I got God in my corner, too; we talk all the time), you’ll simply dissolve, become a distant memory; like my ex. A painful life lesson; one and done!
Side effects?
Hey, I'll cross that bridge when I get there. I got enough on my plate as it is. Besides, I know life is a gamble, Andy. You win some, you lose some.
You lose.
Yes, we mere mortals have a tendency to indulge, squander, and procrastinate; guilty as charged.
Look, I'm willing to make a few changes, Andy, as long as you don't ask me to give up travelling!
Really, Andy! We wouldn't even be having this conversation if you hadn't done some travelling of your own.
Okay. I promise not to forget to wear my compression socks on long flights. Yeah, yeah, they did very little good tucked away in my checked bag resting comfortably in the belly of the plane.
Is that what this is all about? That one long flight home from Europe several months ago sans compression socks?
Good grief, Andy! Talk about overkill. And speaking of belly, those heparin shots were really fun, Andy!
NOT!
Yes, a few life changes are in order.
I promise; those extra ten pounds are history.
Fifteen?
You're killing me, Andy!
No, no, no! Perish the thought!
You bet your platelets, Andy. No more eating bon bons and binge-watching two seasons of Orange is the New Black while recovering from surgery either. Lord knows, I'd be happy foregoing any more surgery.
Yeah, yeah! I know I gotta keep moving; especially during long flights; especially after surgery; especially after age 60.
Right, it's just a number. Easy for you to say, just standing there, waiting in the wings with your buddies stroke and heart attack.
Holy harbinger! I'm not ready for this cake walk!
We're through here, Andy. No hard feelings, man.
It's been a blast!
NOT!
Yes, I am painfully aware that anywhere from 10 to 30 percent of people with a pulmonary embolism die within 30 days of your debut. You’re one bad ass, Andy; I’ll give you that.
But understand this, Andy; it takes one to know one. The way I see it, anywhere from 70 to 90 percent of people diagnosed with a blood clot in their lung survive the ordeal.
No! That’s not all I’ve got.
I’ve got blood thinners, now, too. No more interlopers showing up on my doorstep! No more rip roaring trips to the ER! No more drafty hospital gowns! No more Code Blue/Red/Purple/whatever-color-of-the-rainbow rollercoaster rides you got for me.
What's with all the gloom and doom anyway?
Yeah, I know the blood thinners can’t touch you specifically, Andy. But one day soon, God willing (yeah, I got God in my corner, too; we talk all the time), you’ll simply dissolve, become a distant memory; like my ex. A painful life lesson; one and done!
Side effects?
Hey, I'll cross that bridge when I get there. I got enough on my plate as it is. Besides, I know life is a gamble, Andy. You win some, you lose some.
You lose.
Yes, we mere mortals have a tendency to indulge, squander, and procrastinate; guilty as charged.
Look, I'm willing to make a few changes, Andy, as long as you don't ask me to give up travelling!
Really, Andy! We wouldn't even be having this conversation if you hadn't done some travelling of your own.
Okay. I promise not to forget to wear my compression socks on long flights. Yeah, yeah, they did very little good tucked away in my checked bag resting comfortably in the belly of the plane.
Is that what this is all about? That one long flight home from Europe several months ago sans compression socks?
Good grief, Andy! Talk about overkill. And speaking of belly, those heparin shots were really fun, Andy!
NOT!
Yes, a few life changes are in order.
I promise; those extra ten pounds are history.
Fifteen?
You're killing me, Andy!
No, no, no! Perish the thought!
You bet your platelets, Andy. No more eating bon bons and binge-watching two seasons of Orange is the New Black while recovering from surgery either. Lord knows, I'd be happy foregoing any more surgery.
Yeah, yeah! I know I gotta keep moving; especially during long flights; especially after surgery; especially after age 60.
Right, it's just a number. Easy for you to say, just standing there, waiting in the wings with your buddies stroke and heart attack.
Holy harbinger! I'm not ready for this cake walk!
We're through here, Andy. No hard feelings, man.
It's been a blast!
NOT!
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