Surgery is over. My arm is in a sling, so I’m typing one-handed. Things are sore, but I’m home and I have percocet :).
So let me tell you about the story.
In 1998 I had a cardiac arrest. I was out running with my friend R. and I dropped. I have no memory of that day or in fact of several months before, bar a small snippet from going to an ice hockey game the night before. I was in a coma for several days. My first memory is waking up a week after the event and my father telling me that I’d had a cardiac arrest and that the doctors had implanted a device in me, an AICD, in my breast as a protection against it happening again. He told me so I wouldn’t pull or move dramatically as there were stitches under my breast. He explained why they had put it in my breast, that at the time I was slender enough that anywhere else wasn’t really practical and the doctors thought that cosmetically it would be better. I remember quite vividly what I thought which was basically,
WTF! Hello, breast = secondary sexual organ. What were you thinking when you agreed that was a good idea? Bloody parents.
Yep, not hallelujah I’m alive, but WTF. Ungrateful sod that I am.
I did come to recognize that it was a good thing and this time as the nurse checked out my boob and asked if the doctors were going to put the AICD somewhere else, I told her in no uncertain terms that they’d have some serious explaining to do if they moved it. They didn’t move it.