Getting to the Heart of the Issue, or, Probing the Patient's Health Benefits

Dear ----,

Due to the palpitations induced of late (source unknown) I, prepped and hooked up

to an IV (Ivy? Where? I didn't see any plants), my mind set on Verced-sponsored 
dreamland, and having attempted to mask my apprehension with humor, was 
deemed by a squiggly line on a pink sheet of rolling logarithmic paper unfit for the 
anesthetic which was to shield me from colonoscopic torment. Alas, the procedure 
was scrubbed. 

"I'll bet you're sorely disappointed," quipped the doctor.

"Not as much as your accountant," I parried.

"Oh, you'll be back after we check out your cardiac shenanigans. My accountant
can wait."

Actually for people who see each other only once, and then briefly, and often not
even face to face, every five years my doctor and I get along famously. I pay for
insurance which rewards him handsomely and he gets to fill my butt for who knows
how long with air and a three foot bendable snake replete with TV camera and
microscopic snips. But, as he said, no adventure today.

Now on Friday I will have to go to Fairview Park in the afternoon to run as long as
I can on a treadmill pointing virtually skyward so the cardiologists there can get me
just this short of a near death experience (stress test). Personally, without a crib sheet
there's no way I can get above a D. When my crotch has crunched that hurdle I get to
reschedule the colonoscopy and anticipate the thrills of another 2-day prep.

Instead of getting to rack out today and tomorrow grabbing Zs with the pillow god
and two pets, tonight I get to enjoy fond memories of "prep" (don't ask) and report for
work at our headquarters tomorrow at 8 AM. With luck the heartless churls of commerce
will provide us a cafeteria lunch gratis. For that we will quit grumbling and
momentarily be gratis-ful.

"Remember, dammit, first do no harm." Hippocrates

Please, please tell me you had a better day.

Love, Peace, and Hope,
James Manista

[On the off chance you are hip to eko-cardial jive, I was found today (tomorrow, who
knows?) to have an irregular heartbeat (which some people can feel, not I), skipping
every other beat (bi-gemini, by Jimminey!) which is not lethal, fatal, or of much concern
for someone my age, they affirm, while making sure I get tested forthwith. "Please do not
expire in my waiting room--go directly to your driver's car."]

P.S.: Nat being interviewed about his work: (worth every minute--yes, they are speaking
English) https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=f_GQTRhWpfY

A Little Learning

         How tiresome your idiosyncratic selves!

 
We’ve seen these acts done better 

A thousand times. You’ve nothing to prove

Except you can work in silence competently. 

Don’t you see? Aside from trading

Ignorance for knowledge your needs are irrelevant.

This school is not your crib where parents,

Knowing your frailty, dote on your cry.

Of necessity they misled you to think

You merit our jumping, or that you’re due

A roof, new clothes, French fries, at a whim.

Your senses likewise lied: this world, that

Appears at your waking and fades with your sleep,

Is ponderously stable and does not revolve

Around you. We, hot stoves, and junkyard dogs,

Batter those misconceptions from your head

With lead pipes of wonder or threat

Hoping your native curiosity will one day

Tire of our chase, rise, and lead you

Regularly and eagerly to the light.