Tempus Fugit: Postscript

 You know how I thought it would be ok to move Gary’s clocks to the basement?  He’ll never know, right?  He hasn’t been downstairs in months and months.  I literally don’t remember the last time he was able to get out of bed so there is no chance he’d be downstairs to notice the clocks were moved.


That was my line of thinking 2 days ago.  Last night he was downstairs.

Not long enough to notice the clocks, though as the paramedics were whisking him to an ambulance.  He had a heart attack almost 2 years ago and last night, for the first* time since then, he needed nitroglycerin.

*He disagrees with this – he thinks he had to take it once before but he also thinks the Bolivian ambassador is in my sock drawer so we’re going to go with my recollection which is last night was the first time in nearly 2 years that he needed nitroglycerin.

 
If the first pill doesn’t help, he can take another 5 minutes later.  The first one didn’t help.  Gauging the 5 minutes was a little tough, though, because I put all the clocks in the basement.

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