The next issue to receive attention is the vascular
constriction problem which is causing my left leg to ache badly if I try to
walk more than about 300 yards. Tomorrow I’m due to go for the angiogram to
establish how the blood is flowing and what, if anything, can be done about it.
What concerns me about this is what the doctor said the last
time I saw him – that if the issue is manifest in my left leg at the moment,
the chances are that the process is happening everywhere in my body. And that
raises the spectre of other problems such as angina. Angina isn’t such a big
problem in itself, but what about the other manifestation of arterial
constriction which is of no small importance to men? You know, that word nobody
likes to use. Impotence.
Well, the prospect of impotence is also of relatively minor
concern to me since I see no likelihood of ever needing to be potent again.
Those days are in the past. But suppose I were to be shipwrecked and washed up
on a desert island, and on regaining consciousness on the sun-kissed sand I
were to see a number of bronzed maidens rushing in my direction with delight
and anticipation in their eyes.
‘A man! A man!’ they would be crying. ‘Now we can breed
again and the future of our people will be secure.’ At which point I would have
to say:
‘Breed? Not with me you won’t. Those days are in the past.’
And then I’d feel a prat.
But that wouldn’t be the end of the matter. The looks of
delight and anticipation would change to daggers and other sundry pointed
things, all racing towards my person at speed. And their leader would say:
‘If you cannot breed with us, you are of no value and must
die. Prepare for your end, half-man. Resistance is useless.’
And then the looks of delight and anticipation would return to
the eyes of the bronzed maidens and they would cry out with one voice:
‘Man meat! We haven’t tasted that in many a long year. Should
we have him now or save him for Christmas?’
And I don’t think I’d like that very much.
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