Adelaide had surgery to fix her bleeding heart. It was quick, but complex, surgery. In in the morning. Out in the afternoon.
Aorta get more nurses, Adelaide thought as she left the hospital that afternoon, and aorta get more doctors. She thought for a moment more. Aorta let more South Australians study medicine. And aorta bugger the Constitution.
She caught the tram home. No one stood up for her of course. Aorta put windows on the trams, she thought. And more seats. She sniffed as she looked around at the boring, barren things. Aorta just drive these trams out to the airport and park them there. That’s what aorta do.
Meanwhile the temperature rose. Aorta do something about this heat, she said as she turned the air conditioner up. She heard about the blackouts. Aorta do something about that, she said and turned the air conditioner up again. Thank Goodness they had the ducted system now.
Aorta do something about the surface of those courts, she said to her husband as they watched the tennis that night. And aorta have ratings on that, she said as they watched the news. It’s not right, we’ve got kids watching that.
In the end, her husband called the doctor out.
‘Adelaide’s got aorta disease,’ the doctor said in quiet tones. ‘As I’m sure I explained, it’s an uncommon – but not rare – side-effect. You’re lucky there’s an election coming up. That’ll get you over the worst of it by the end of March. Early April at the latest.’ He smiled lightly first at her husband and then at Adelaide. ‘Here’s the address for the letters to the editor. And here’s the talkback numbers.’ He smiled again as he handed the information to Adelaide. ‘It’s a pity it’s ended up this way, but I think you’ll find aorta disease is much less trouble than a bleeding heart.’
The doctor smiled again at Adelaide. She let her husband show the doctor out.