Medical dramas have taught me everything I know about heart transplants. For the record, I know a fair amount. I feel like it's probably the next best thing to actually going to medical school, but anyway. Heart transplants. They're a little more complicated than they sound. You don't just take the heart out of a cooler, throw it in the recipient's chest cavity, get everything all attached, close up, and send the person on his way. I mean sure, you do all of that stuff, but then the patient needs to take a ton of pills to make sure that the heart isn't rejected by it's new environment. Most people don't know about this potential for the transplant complications, only doctors and avid Grey's Anatomy viewers are in tune to these minute details, but the point is...L.A. is not the easiest environment to get transplanted into.
A couple days ago I knocked my driver's side mirror off of my car trying to avoid hitting some cholo in a parking garage, so for a day I couldn't see what was behind me while driving. For a day, I couldn't look backwards and it was scary beyond all reason, but it forced me to look forward. I don't know what forward entails at the moment, but it's definitely better than behind. Behind bums me out.
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