Jan. 21, 2021
HOLT! WHO GOES THERE?
Tomorrow, I have to return an instrument of torture and a sleepless night, the Holter, to CIMA, our American Hospital.
This is a stock photo, so as not to over excite/horrify readers with my sexy self. (LOL)
The heroic woman, who shaved huge chunks out of my Neanderthal hair, to attach the electrodes, could hardly keep her hands off me. She dreamily murmured 'Osito'.
Like Napoleon to Josephine, she admonished me not to shower or swim. "Do not bathe today. I am coming home." When I returned she just held her nose. My usual luck then!
(Collecting Holters back from the smelly ones must be a horrible job.)
Maybe swimming turns Holter wearers into electric eels? It could be fun watching a pool full of stunned bathers, floating about face down.
So, Caption this!
Suggestions so far:
1. From mi jefa. "If this is some kind of extremely kinky sex gear, forget it".
2. "Unless you make me President, I'll blow us all to kingdom come."
3. "Grrr Doctor Frankenstein! Monster wants a Bride."
Returning the heart monitor revealed the S and M bit. She delighted in tearing off the superglued contacts, ignoring my many yelps of pain. My dementia means I cannot remember safe words these days.
Removing the contacts uprooted several internal organs through the flesh.
I have a super liver. Despite 50 years of alcoholic abuse, my super liver shows perfect results in medical tests.
It may well be running around the local town, boozing.