As I watched the grayscale monitor, the thin wire coasted gracefully across the charcoal duskiness of my lumbar vertebrae before merging onto my large thoracic thru-way. "More thrust!" I said to myself in a silly Scotts accent and a larger catheter magically appeared on the screen. This new and improved rooter ascended my torso and arched gracefully over my aorta. I talked and burbled happily aware of my pharmaceutical phaerie gliding gently in and around inquiring gently as to my comfort. Everyone should have one of these anxiolytic angels to soothe and assuage nerves gone awry, stomachs gone floppsy, and arteries repelling invaders. I wondered when they would use the big rubber mallet...

Dr. Day, (after recovering from my nauseated greeting) explained the next series of events as he tapped and wiggled my femoral cannula, Long Hair banged the dye reservoir heartily and Eagle Eye confirmed the absence of naughty invasive bubbles. Somehow visions of a well-used but restorable classic car came to mind as I listened to the bangs and rattles, grunts and assertions.

All of this for the "blue pinky". One whole day spent in the confines of Baylor Medical, finger refusing to be even slightly bluish, to discover that my radial artery (sinister) is completely blocked, jammed up, occluded to the hilt for no apparent reason. Dr. Day asked if I had been using my arm as a tool or deadly weapon to which I cordially responded in the negative, internally wondering if he was altogether a twit or still reeling from my gastric salutation. Indeed, I often wield my arm in a threatening manner, and have offered it's services to many a construction worker as substitute for some pneumatic device, but never, in my wildest imaginings, thought this could be harmful to the delicate underpinnings of my vascula. Git!!

Dr. Pearle will be inspecting me next and the wonders of a thrombosis may be revealed. Stay tuned for vastly amazing and enchanting pictures of the "blue pinky" itself, and if we are lucky, the radiographies.