An old mate from my New Guinea days — well, we're all old now, and with so few of us left, those who remain are now our best mates — emailed me, "Having a pacemaker fitted in a couple of weeks. Doctor told me the battery is good for ten years. Followed it up by saying that one battery is all I would ever need."
What terrible bedside manners! I would've gone for another doctor and a bigger battery, although I have yet to find out how my doctor would break the same news to me if he ever had to. He and I seem to have an understanding: he tells me little lies and I give him little presents. The latest one was this coffee cup but without the Monte Carlo biscuits.
Oh, and my old mate's doctor also said that they would remove the pacemaker before his cremation as they explode and make a mess, to which my mate replied, "At that stage I couldn't give a f**k." Touché!
