Wednesday, March 22, 2017

Paper Thin Optimism

           
“Congestive heart failure? Jesus wept.” Mark wore a paper gown and sat on a papered examining table.  “So tell me how this ends.”

The cardiologist shifted his weight to his left foot and recrossed his arms over the stethoscope. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“I want to know the ending.”

“Oh. It won’t be sudden. Your heart will just stop. Like it would for someone elderly.”

“Okay.”

“It won’t be a heart attack.”

“Okay.”

“Anything else?”

“So, ablation and meds?”

“That’s our first move.”

“So ten to fifteen years?”

“Let’s be more optimistic than that.”

“Okay.”