Heart Failure

Picture if you will a heart that has grown fat and misshapen and can no longer pump blood as designed. It cannot pump, ironically, because it is beating just too g.d.fast. So fast that the upper chambers simply do not have enough time to fill which leaves the lower chambers wanting, with very little to hold on to, and/or pump, causing the body’s wont circulation to become so weak that fluids begin to pool in lowly places, like the ankles, the calves, and adding weight on top of the poor circulation makes the circulation still weaker until one is winded taking only a few steps. But our storyteller is a stubborn male who instinctively eschews the Medical Industrial Complex. He’s the kind of guy who thinks can shake off a heart attack. His ticker pegs him as fair prey for MIC, when he finds it virtually impossible to take a shit and finally surrenders to a fluorescent and deco medical barn that is the feeder hair to the Complex. His good manners and sane fear of death itself, parlay him gently and completely into hospital, yet from the first unsuccessful attempt at starting an i.v., his only wish is to quit MIC, but once the cardio-hooks have been set in flesh, it’s not so easy to dislodge them. He suffers medical students most of whom butcher his arms trying to find veins, or deny him privacy, or understand that electrode-tape, when stuck in chesthair burns like acid when ripped off a person as if he is as insentient as a slab of wood. His revenge will be that he will not pay MIC, but this is hardly any relief as they continue to zap his armband for more monies upon each and every form of torture. There are two main procedures that it all boils down to. To wit,
ablations. One nixes A-flutter; the other allegedly clears up A-fib, the electromagnetic malfunctions that result in the heart losing its rhythm and thus, although it doesn’t quite, failing. Luckily, to put it mildly, there is a light at the end of the hospital corridor and it leads all the way to San Francisco where heart patient guy regales with a different sort of failure, the failure of one twopenny agent trying to raise dough for a flick beneath the umbrage of streaming and a diminished if not finished Film Industry. The point is if your heart makes it, your dreams have a much better shot.