My phone rang yesterday morning.
It wasn't one of those O'Dark-Thirty calls but I was at work...
"I know you're probably at work but your Brother had a heart attack last night... he's in room 918..."
Seconds later the phone rang again, "Did you..."
"Where are you?
"At work. You?
100% blockage of the main vein. JUST the main vein.
"That Shit Hurts Like A Mother Fucker."
I don't know that first hand but when I see one of my younger brothers strapped to a hospital bed. Plumbed up, wired up and monitored up...
When he says it's so. It is so.
There ain't a wimp amongst us. If there's a runt, it's me.
I'm the oldest and the smallest.
He's going to be OK.
They say it was a "Mild" one.
Another screwed up thing is that he's been watching his diet and exercising.
And!!! He'd had blood work done and his cholesteral checked in the last few weeks...
"It's all OK. You're healthy."
So much for regular check-ups.
All those bastards care about is their mortgage, alimony and Ferrari payments.
- ▼ June (8)