I wonder if you know
of the catheter that
pierces my vein,
and of the mask
which helps me breathe,
All those endless nights
Wincing in pain.

I wish i could tell you
of how my blood
spluttered when they
pulled out the needle,
but nothing compares to
the pain of how i could
not tell you these things
for you have gone
so far away,
for you have gone
so far away.

It hurts more than
the catheter in my vein.

I call this blood
You call that bird
feather They are
feather They are
bleeding bird
a blood-colored bird
red and falling
full of readiness
as anything falling
Feather blood bird
bird Feather blood
blood bird Feather
Death is never obvious so
a bird can also fly down
and a catheter bleeds for life
Death is never obvious:
feather feather and feather.

There is a new word describing me
type one, type two, type three
nothing is as it once seemed
brown bandages become red, ******
catheters go up my urethra
when I refuse to take your drug test
by accident.
I'm clean, now, clean and pure
I take Abilify to make sure
and remember that it's all an imbalance
and remember that everyone else is balanced
and remember that the whole ******* world is balanced
on a tether formed by gravity
gravity-- the severity of this situation-- is lost on me
and on that tether we all walk
unbridled by the weight of our bodies
we can shake all that makes us human
and pathologize every thought crime
every idea needs to be cleansed
with a catheter into the brain
we would be able to test it for drugs
and find that all I was high on was existence
and how terrible it is
that we will all die
but that shouldn't bother a doctor at all, now
should it.

Lymphoma
There was a  fundraising run for lymphoma and other cancers
A little notice for it on top of the garbage can
at a home grown Jamba Juice right off the BART in Berkeley

It hit home: what I was up against
People don't run through the streets casually
and my cat had lymphoma

I couldn't find him last night for the first time
He had his weekly appointment and I brought in
something that didn't look at all like he was the week before

They paged the vet and she came in
saying thing like he needed an IV and tests and
wasn't there nothing else to do
didn't she say that
he needs hospitalization--his liver
we can't tell you what to do
but it would all go in a circle and come back
to a suffering being who had
come to the end of what science could do for him
what she was trying to tell me in her barrage of words
came through loud and clear

They brought him in
with a blanket and a catheter
and he struggled until he got warm and then rested
I wanted him to see me, as the last thing he saw in this world

She took the three syringes out of her white coat
Don't hurt him, just don't hurt him
my only request
There was no pain
Only relaxation, sleep and then at last no heartbeat
Her ability, her smoothness of execution was perfect
and he went limp in my arms
not suffering

The nurse took his body away
"It's the last gift we can give them" she said
and I imagined a man, a stereotypical
image of a man pacing back and forth in a white coat in front
of a lecture hall full of vet students saying that
exact thing and there was a serious air in the classroom and some wrote this down,
it was so true, sound, capable and final
but this woman said it
this veterinarian from Michigan
and through my tears and grief
there was some kind of undercurrent
of relief, that there is no more pain for him
He no longer suffers
and I did all I could do

After asking a nurse
where he was
we find Ole at the end
of the ward
sitting on the side
of a bed
attempting to eat
a sandwich.

He is puffed up,
his hands swollen,
his arms too;
his face looks puffy.

I am shocked how much
he had altered overnight.

What's happened to you?
Has anyone seen you
like this?

He shrugs his shoulders,
looking at us.

I take his free hand
and feel it with mine.

It must be water retention;
when did you urinate last?

Early this morning, I think.

You ought to have
a catheter in
to get rid
of the excess *****.

Have they suggested that?

He has a job breathing;
his words are  soft
and yet strained.

No, but I did see
a doctor this afternoon.

What did he say?

They're investigating.

He labours for breath;
puts the sandwich down
on the small bed table;
sips the orange juice.

Stay here,
I say to his sister.

I go off down the ward
and find a nurse
in a dark uniform
who looks like
she may be in charge.

Yes? She says,
looking at me
as if I’d just walked
through dog's doings.

I'm not happy with the way
my son's being care for.

Who's your son?

I tell her.

What's the problem with him?

You should be telling me that;
he's all puffed up and swollen;
he can barely hold
a glass to drink;
his breathing is bad,
could be asthma-
he’s suffered that for years;
and why hasn't he got
a catheter in
to take away
the excess *****?
he had a job passing
***** yesterday;
I assume that's what
the letter said
we brought in
yesterday evening.

I can't put a catheter in
without a doctor's say so
and he is in A&E;
at the moment
they're having a rush.

But my son needs to see
someone soon;
he can’t go on like this.

I assure you he is
being cared for,
but as soon
as the doctor returns
from A&E;
I will ask him
to see your son.

It's upsetting
to see him like that;
he's not one to complain;
but that's no reason
to let him be as he is.

I will get a doctor to see him
as soon as he returns,
she reiterates.

I am fuming;
the whole ward
seems to have
a dark circle about  it.

I've just been to the nurse
to complain
about your treatment
or lack of,
I say.

His sister looks at me
then at Ole.

I'm going to sit
in the waiting area;
I can't stand seeing you
in this state,
she says.

She walks down
the ward upset
and then out of sight.

I look at him sitting there;
I sit beside him
on the side of the bed
and put my arm around
his broad shoulders.

The abandoned sandwich
he puts back in the packet.

Want some more orange juice?

He nods.

I pour him a glassful
of orange juice
which he drinks down
in silence.

I ask him various
mundane questions
about how he slept
and the hospital food
and did he eat any.

A little; it hurts my jaw
to move it too much.

I ask him if he wants anything
else to eat or drink,
he says no.

He tries to lay down
on the bed
so I help him
the best I can
to sit back
and arrange his pillows
so that they
are behind him comfortably.

He lays there;
his breathing heavy.

I ask a few more questions
which he answers slowly.

He closes his eyes, tired.

I best go;
leave you to rest.

He opens his eyes.

I'll be up tomorrow
and bring more clothes
and stuff.

Ok.

I kiss his forehead;
touch his arm
and go back
along the ward.

The last conversation
between father and son;
death hanging
by the door.

I can say no more.

I went for an X-Ray the other day. My name was called
and after the expected delay, I heard a nurse say
Right knee? I said Yep! She said “Come this way…
Can you get your trouser leg up to your thigh"?
I said “No… these skinny jeans don’t go that high”.
“In that case” she said looking me up & down... with a frown
Pop in that cubicle… and put on this gown!

For a start…it took me ages to get these trousers off…
and force the rest of my stuff into the carrier bag supplied
and then, when I saw the gown, I very nearly died!
It would have fitted me just fine if I’d been 18 again
but the gaps and bulges in the thing were a farce...
and allowed everyone in the corridor to see my fat 71 year old ****.

I said out loud when I sat down again in the queue
“You know…I had an inferiority complex before I met any of you.
But this has definitely taken me down a notch. And I apologise about the view”.
However, inside the X-Ray room with all the techie kit and Radiographer Rob,
I felt better… The pain in my knee had almost gone apart from a distant throb.
Then he said “You’re completely safe, just lie back calm, quite still…serene”.
Whilst he clicked the shutter from the other side of his lead lined screen. (So he was alright then!)

Well, I’m home again now, hobbling about… It’s bearable (not like childbirth ladies) but not great.
I’m sitting here with my leg up waiting for the letter that will let me know my fate.
Ah yes… men and pain! There is a well know fact about the differences between the sexes.
It’s proven that, with men, colds become flu…and ailments:- epidemics… (No really!)
So, here’s the letter… Now...will it be Ointment? Physio, to transform a permanent slouch?
Or a keyhole flush with a catheter? Or - Oh no!…
For me - it’s a titanium replacement knee!… Ouch!

Somebody pass me that gown!!!

Drain out of me
running through the page
a cloudy yellow apathy
with crimson streaks of rage
my doctor thinks a catheter
could help me hold my tongue
but I've swallowed his for years now
and my flow has just begun.

they say stop
don't do it too much
ease up
slow down
are you content, let alone happy, with anything?

they didn't seem to think so
the dry benzo sting stuck in my mouth for an hour or so
a rough jostle into a rushed sobriety

we'll have to reinsert the catheter
so don't squirm too much
we don't have any anesthetic left
good luck

I was standing straight-
My hands benighted down,
Little bend towards the lord,
And they called my guilty posture.
When I closed my eyes slightly wet-
They dressed me in the butcher’s gown,
Aimlessly swaying my sword,
Goat masks swinging like pendulum’s structure.

Behind me were tall men in cloaks-
They were trying to move a big glass cube,
There were victims floating in water,
As if they were dead and numbed in pain.
I turned to them as the frog croaks-
A cloak-man gave me the reins of their capillary tube,
And a bottle of venom to feed the catheter,
They crowned me the hood to fit over my brain.

I chuckled and shuddered-
My hands benighted down,
Little bend towards the lord,
And they stripped me off in a sudden spate.
When my body was falling down murdered-
They turned the soil into red from brown,
A few survivors were running in hoard,
Slain frog legs smashed in stampede outside the heaven’s gate.

It's all  conspiracy
Idle hands are the Devil's playthings
I told you so
Remove the feeding tube
But not during the gestation period
By after the gastric bypass
And right before the insemination
Put the fault on the horse voiced gentry
And the perpendicular denominations
What's it to you?
You estranged neo-native
Counterfeit piety and disobedient estranged friends unnerve you
You act so factious
Deliberately making everything a joke
Ponder the trajectory of my fist to your glass jaw
And the brass knuckles to your abdomen
You'll want to get an iron lung when we're through
Maybe a respirator and a catheter
Now, go count your toenail clippings as the idle minds cast their votes for this referendum

       -Tommy Johnson

One time
I took a medication
that interfered
with my bladder function
I couldn't urinate
The very talk of a catheter   
scared the **** out of me

Problems many of which are not getting solved
not because I'm not resolved but because I delay
to savor the day, the moon and the season
which is why I'm a non-person under the eye of eternity.

Except for my unpaid bills. And iambic pentameter.
Aaron fails English. Is there summer school?
What an *******! I want to slug him, but also
his teacher, Mr. Fisher, who's probably

a nice guy, just doing his job and raising a family.
Then there's the catheter from my last surgery
I was so sick I thought I was dying. The out of network
pathologist and radiologist have declined my insurance

and charged me to the hilt. Like I had a choice
face up in the emergency room. Facing doom, you don't ask questions.
Now that I've rejoined the living I've got to raise a million bucks
to save organic farms and endangered species I'll never see.

Perhaps none of this matters and chanting's the answer, Buddhist
      precepts,
or as Dad would say This too shall pass.
Life is a back and forth game but baseball is zen meditation,
you're in right field, nothing's happening, nothing's gonna happen,

but you can't let your attention wander for one second.
I should clean and oil my trumpet for Saturday's gig
or the valves will stick. And leave early enough
not to get stuck in traffic. Other lives, other quilts.

A guy who takes the subway to a dead metal desk
and the boss who fires him with the cold hard eyes
of one who accepts the rules entirely. Actually
we're fortunate to have rules because otherwise

child soldiers armed with AK-47s would be shooting up
the village and setting fire to our thatched roofs.
Instead, under the rule of law, when snow falls
even old roofs look like problems with proofs.

it was the greatest sputum sample ever collected in this hospital
the guy wasn’t coughing, he wasn’t doing anything
except lay there like a dead fish
we’d smash the ezpap mask on his face to inflate his lungs
useless
the doctor asked me to get a sputum sample to see what was growing in there
"the guy does nothing," i said.  "he doesn’t cough"
"can you NT suction him?"
push a plastic catheter up his nose, into his lungs
"that’s pretty invasive for a sputum sample"
"can you do it?"
"yeah i can…  i never have for that, but i can…"
so i go in with his nurse and my student
i have the catheter ready, all lubed up
i’d want a lot of **** if it was my nose
but first i put a sample jar under his mouth
and say "look dude, i need you to spit in this cup"
i don’t know if he’s listening or what
"if you can’t do it i’m gonna go up your nose with a rubber hose
it doesn’t hurt exactly but you’re not gonna like it
but i won’t do it if you can spit in this cup"
his eyes are half open
he’s possibly considering it
"COME ON DUDE, SPIT IN THE CUP!  HOCK A LOOGIE!"
then we hear a rumble
it’s like the awakening of a volcano
"DO IT!  HOCK A LOOGIE!"
we hear it coming up the pipe
"YES!  DO IT!"
it sounds substantial and it keeps coming
i open his mouth and holy mackerel
there’s a gallon of yellow mucus
it’s astronomical, a ******* tidal wave
i shake the cup under his mouth
"SPIT!  DO IT!"
but he doesn’t spit
his mouth is full as a bucket
but it’s not going anywhere
"give me that yankeur," i say to the nurse
she gives me the stiff suction wand
i don’t even plug it into the vacuum
i just use it to scoop the phlegm from his mouth into the cup
"o my god," says my student
she’s getting an education today
i keep scooping, filling the cup
"wow," says the nurse
she’s seen a lot but she’s never seen **** like this
"ALRIGHT, DUDE," i say, capping the cup, laughing
it’s the greatest sputum sample in the history of the world

the ship was underwater before it could be properly evacuated
and i was drunk in the captain's quarters with a switchblade to his throat
he missed a spot when he was shaving that morning and i
offered my services

a spot on the canvas of my mitochondrial conditioning
my dendrites receive no stimulation as i laugh so i feel nothing as usual

crack my clenched teeth in a practice of proper response eliciting
reinsert the breathing tube and rip the catheter out of me
no

swimming outside the rim of sleep,

head near the undertow of the tides of dream-

thinking of our words in circles

pencil acting as a catheter

of my worry,

I’ve been puking into my journal,

I’ve been barking up the wrong tree,

I’ve been in a cave

with a broken lantern-

and the water’s been around my knees.

I’m all teeth, hair and eyes.



I’ve known well the-

truth terror

but I’m still wanting it dressed up-

I asked you to put a happy mask on it

but you said

“I cant pretend,”

A ring,
Soo many give one without thinking twice,
A king,
A queen,
Is there no wrong nor any right?
A bolter I hold at the end of the stick,
Tired ripped, shot down as me.
Burdened fish to thine sea,
Oh creator? Didst thou maketh me one?
I am thy own son, yes?
Bypass all the rest, for I will find one brand new,
A brand of secretive muse, a piracy smuggled in..
To cleanse me from sin's, external, and  internal put..
Eyes to see all miracolous, no more plankness of soot.
Boreal freshness to tease this European glosser,
For dare I wish , this I do mindful reader..
Immaculate soother, one to bare these holes in hands,
To take this crown of thorns, as I.
For no saint I am.
I want no cathode, but the exact alike,
Where thou giveth her thine life, and the return comes full payment,
I want no show, I seek no entertainment,
But as a priest in ordainment,
I seek a high chemical capsules cannot plot you.
A spirit see through,
Transparent as thy ghost!!!!!!
A special toast of winding hills, and pickled thoughts,
Where nothings sold nor lost, but catheter to ways unknown!!!
Excreta to flow from our kisses, as our lips grown close by stitches, and hands go glued by palms...
A father and dame, a betwixting so tame, nothing worldly can  be so exclusive!
I want one who shall exude me,
To move me,
To shake me in earthquake foundation's....
One of spiraled radiation.

windmills grind
a breeze into a wisp
as wrung dust, floats
in dust moats of cumulus rust
like the  fatigue of a sixth sense
in a world of five comas
and a hunch.

a world of long shadows
with a brief harrumph
of brass

from a blood-yellow sun
and a bruised
lamp.

the catheter of a ******
and a pearl's
edge.

apple on my head
arrow in my mouth...

and a goose egg.

I... Recollect times past, to nullify my current state,
to back when peace shimmered our harbor, warm and safe.
My... Misleading memories of honesty, truth, and faith,
sincere and fortunate light sequester, life displaced.

In-the... Deep midst of my being, deluged a swamp of mossy lace,
troubled body of trembling thought, gasping for escape.
Heard... “Open yer eyes boy... I don't wanna ya to swallow yer tongue.”
That's when someone else decided, that I'd had "enough."

Saved... from freedoms of chaos, and now the allure of death,
for catheter and plastic gown, none by request.
How... many beats per minute will my cardiogram play?
How long must I be plugged in, before I get away?..

I'll... likely be spitting gray chalk for the next week or more,
I know these things because, I've been through this all before.
There's such a... cluttering of whispers, that they all try to hide,
when nurses talk about me, they mention “suicide.”

There's... Nurses, and doctors, all hoping I'll pull through,
not one will treat the failure, of who lie in I.C.U.
Next week... We'll identify problems, bits of understanding,
how many groups and puzzles to take, to ease
                                                                        my landings.

The Finest Health Care System in the World

In a wheelchair – his body mostly broken:
“I wish I could go fishing. I was a welder.
How long’s that doctor going to be? I’m tired.
I just don’t know how I can pay for this.

“I was doing okay ‘til I fell and broke my back.
Thirty-seven surgeries, would you believe it?
And my arm too. This catheter’s infected.
The last doctor just wouldn’t take it out.

“My Workman’s Comp’s all gone. I just don’t know.”
In a wheelchair – his body mostly broken

Sitting on the edge of the bed,
Un-made twisted sheets,
Muttering to myself,
picking at the scabs under my lily-white purified skin
wondering when the door will come crashing in.
Knowing I’ve only a few moments,
Time with my crucifix, moments with my notepad
Before the time slips beneath the door and invites the others in.
****** knuckles, parched lips,
The compounded inhaled taste of her hips,
Dripping through the catheter,
tiny atoms of my being wrestling for space.
I’ve finished this course of treatment,
The next week will bring more pills, extra tubing
Lack of hope in plain sight

Just when life most grand
Death saying, "Now, I almost
Forgot about you"

This was prompted today by a tiny (one and a half pound), cute Yorkie puppy named Chance.  He came in to the EC after being sick at home with vomiting and diarrhea.  He was collapsed, nearly unconscious, ghostly pale, blood glucose of 28 mg/dl, scratching at death's edge.  We stuck catheter in bone and we brought him back.  He was doing well through the long night, jumping up to greet me, wagging his tail.  Just as I was ready to go home, off my shift, he cried out a big whimper, and fell over dead.  We tried to revive him, to bring life again, however, same as any of us, death had it's last say!

©  2017 Jim Davis

The lights shining right onto my face have finally been turned off. I double-check my bed's position - too upright and I'll have trouble falling asleep, too low and my back will ache. I ask for one last drink of water, but take just a sip and place the cup on the bedside table. It will have to last me the night. The man in the bed opposite mine is still on the phone, conversing in deep tones. It is joined every now and then by an outburst of piteous groaning from the old man near the window, restrained by lashes so he cannot get up and pull out the catheter leaking dark yellow ***** into the bag on the floor by his bed.

I drift off into a restless sleep, roused every few hours for my vitals to be measured. Your heart rate is low, every nurse says. Athlete's heart. It's as reassuring as the cool night air, the silent peace when even the mentally unstable moaning old man is asleep (he wakes muliple times throughout the night, moaning himself hoarse and back into slumber). The nurses come and go, gowned wraiths cloaked in the semi-darkness gliding with their equipment and medicine trolleys. The red fluid level in the tube by my side heaves with each breath I take. Alarmed, I wave someone over to tell me that the blood will not flood back into my lungs.

Mornings creep from the windows into the room, no more than a purple light that turns to orange, then white. The chill of the night gives way to a steadily rising warm humidity that seems to dilate time, the minutes worming into sore patches of my torso from laying too long without changing position. I waste away bedridden, lung collapsing further. The course of the day contains little more than still more waiting in vain for good news, interspersed with bland meals that I painfully finish, hunched in a half-sitting position with a limp left upper body. The ward comes to life again, a sickly bustling blur. The slow heat lingers several more hours after the last visitors have gone, long past sunset. There is scant comfort here but sleep, yet even that never comes easily.

I found the Valentine you gave me in 2015,
Just a month before you "CONTRACTED THE 'MAN-MADE' AIR BORNE VIRUS (That everyone is exposed to but, that effects everyone differently )
In your case it effected your immune system to attack your own heart."
By the time we go to the Emergency Room they said that the damage done could not be repaired  and your heart was only functioning 10% of what a normal 44 year old. They told us without a heart transplant you were going to die. Then they told us that in order to qualify  for a heart transplant you would have had to be at least  20%or better.  
When the transplant team came in to see you and let you know that they were nolonger going to be a part of your  care...You wouldnt be needing their services. You were all smiles and shook every ones hand. T he phone rang and  you told your boss that " Yeah...the transplant team just left...they said that I dont need them after all... let everybody know and tell them all thanks for the prayers  and well wishes...as soon as they get me out of  ICU they will be allowed to vist."  You said you didnt know yet when but you'd call as soon as you found out.
You accepted the congradulations your boss made an announcement to your co workers and everybody cheered . "Right On!" Somebody yelled Clapping and whistling" Way to GO!!" We Love you Dave!"GetWell" ...
Love You Guys Ill See You Soon!"

I watched  from my chair by the window.  You with tubes and wires and hoses  hooked up to monitors  beeping and Machines a huge thing cslled a plasma blaster was trying to eliminate every single white blood cell to stop your immune systems attack... it was now after your liver and your kidneys. They were also using chemo . They were doing everything  they  could..
The heart surgeon was standing out side the room trying to get my attention when I caught him waving out the corner of my eye. I nodded to the doctor and raised my index finger  and tilted my head  in your direction.  
  A s I walked over to you  I had tunnel vision  I dont know how my legs were  making strides so that each foot  could rise and  fall  and create a step . All I could see was you with dark circles under both eyes, and sweat beaded  up on your brow and upper lip . A huge smile  the first time you smiled the whole time  wed been there.
 " Honey dial Art's number on speaker phone... I gotta  tell Art."
I dialed the number  and kissed your cheek and said Id be right back I needed to go have a drag off a smoke.
"OKAY ,YEAH ,YEAH GO AHEAD."
It wasn't forty minutes ago that you looked at me  in desparation and fear.
"PLEASE DON'T LEAVE ME. PLEASE! Please just stay right here.. hold my hand  and dont let go..
I Promised, "It's  okay " I said, " I will not let you out of my sight. "
I turned to face the door ,still wondering how  my body was managing to function..All I really want3d to do was collaps...curl upand wrap my arms around my legs as tight as I could.
" Please God, Not again.WHY.?? HOW COULD YOU BE SO ******* CRUEL.? What is it that I need to learn for you to stop  hurting me like this??  NO...I GET IT NOW... it's not God at all....but Satan who is doing this...but then where is God??Hello??!! EXCUSE ME.?!!, I could use  a little help here...DO YA MIND.??? YA think maybe just this once,..  oh man....I have lost my mind completely
..this is an hallucination... BAD TRIP,!...... I had already tried  to convince myself that this was all just a crazy dream. Slapping water ******* my face! "COMMON...WAKE THE **** UP"
I Barely noticed the tears had begun to stream down my face. I heard "Hey Bud  Whats  going on we are just pulling into the parking garage,,whats happening now?,?!?!
I wondered what awful news the Dr .  had this time. This ******* was the one who came in to say , Even if we did everything exactly right  we were probly looking at 3 weeks tops  before  it would be  over. " I jumped up off the side of the bed where I was standing guard  and asking what medicine they were giving him ,what was it for, what  could go wrong if he took it what would happ en  if  he didnt.  What their name was, Nurse or doctor?  I had been writing everything down.

.I   startled him too, "ALRIGHT THATS IT,!" I marched to the door hung on to the handle with  one hand and pointed to the hallway with with the other "GET THE **** OUT!!" Who the **** do you think you are? Who the hell does he think he is I said to the nurse as she quickly  darted out into the hallway to the nurses station where all the nurse stood  with shocked looks ontheir faces. "DO YOU HAVE AN OUNCE OF COMPASSION  IN THAT  PEWNIE,LITTLE MAN,SMUG, SO FULL OF YOUR SELF THAT YOU CANT TREAT PEOPLE WITH A LITTLE DIGNITY....NO RESPECT FOR ANYBODY BUT THE GUY WHOSE CALLING THE SHOTS RIGHT.!? DAVE,?
.! Thats it we got to get you the hell out of here these people are ******* sociopaths!!"
  He looked as though they drew straws  to have to come again and he had lost.As long as they didnt stop  you from this tiny bit of hope, you were having ....I could  faintly hear you telling your best friend your great news.... I could hear the confusion in his voice as he questioned you. "What?!?! WAIT..NOW...WHAT DID THEY SAY ...EXACTLY...,!!"  You did say verbatim exactly what they said..To your boss too.
The Doctor had a picture of a human heart  and he is telling me that they  have had success with a mediicine called milrinone ....to help the heart  pump  strong enough  but that it can only be used for a short time and in order to give it a try they  would have to insert a catheter directly into  the small amount of his heart that isnt just dead tissue.."DEAD TISSUE.?? Its just dead??If its dead does that mean its going to rot in there?? Like gain green or something .  Youd going to take him and cut his heart out arent you?!?! Dead Tissue! " I said, Thats *******!! I have never in my life heard EVER of any of this ****!!!"
  " This is up to Dave, You talk...I will translate ...If he doesnr want to do it then we are going to get REAL second opinion!! "
   You were so happy younwerent going to have to have a heart transplanr that you agreed  to the milrinone. . You started feeling pretty good right away.. .They said you could b2 on thw mil3inone 6mo. Then they would wean you off and that would be it.