That's not a heart! It's a flailing Engine of Destruction!
Posted on: August 23, 2010 2:04 PM, by PZ Myers
My day began well enough. I'd gotten up early, got some writing done, and was headed into the office to do some prep work for classes, which start this week. My phone rang just as I had my key in the office door — which was cutting it close. My office is an AT&T dead zone, and a few more seconds and I would have been in blissful obliviousness for the rest of the day. It was my doctor's assistant. I will paraphrase her words slightly.
"We just got the results of your tests from last week. Your heart is a shriveled black lump starved of charity, decency, charm, and kindness," she said, "a gristly godless clot of marginally functional fibers. You need to go back to Abbott for more tests, and the doctors want to crack your chest and marvel at you."
"So what else is new? My students are used to that and expect me to be lashing them with fear and pain starting Wednesday…and my black heart is an asset to this job," I said. "Maybe I can pop in for these tests this weekend. Any chest-cracking can wait for the end of the term and Christmas break, when I wouldn't be using my heart anyway."
"No," she said, "now."
And I waffled and weaseled and tried to argue with her that this could not be, I had a great deal of work to do right now, and I couldn't possibly just drop out at the start of the term, and besides, I felt fine. And I bickered, and she exasperatedly told me no way, and I bargained, and then she said, "Here. I'm putting the doctor on." And the doctor spoke with the voice of Doom and the terrifying tone of I-hold-your-life-in-my-hands-you-dope and she quoth (paraphrased somewhat):
"YOU ARE GOING TO DIE SUDDENLY, ABRUPTLY, WITHOUT WARNING UNLESS WE FIX YOU RIGHT NOW. GO. NOW. DO NOT ARGUE WITH ME."
"Yes'm," I said.
http://scienceblogs.com/pharyngula/2010/08/thats_not_a_heart_its_a_flaili.php