They tell me that inserting a stent in an artery these days is no different than lancing a boil in my *** when I was a kid.
It should reassure me, but the use of a phrase such as invasive surgery fills me with such dread, as does the hated “C” word that rattles round involuntarily in my head.
And even worse is when they call it Percutaneous Coronary Intervention or PCI for short but not for long before the dreaded doubts once more invade my mind in sinuous counterpoint to that more disquieting portent of invasion.