Like Elvis, Bruno has left the hospital. Much to the chagrin of the nursing staff, Fucci has left his heart in a San Francisco with a series of doctors that found out that Bruno was the top overtime maven at CBS, causing all those doctors to tear-a-piece out of his wallet.
He required a replacement of the valves that were implanted there years ago. They found the previous valve to be made from a pig. They told him that this surgery has a warranty for at least 15 years. He doesn't expect to last the whole 15, so he had some of it transferred to his Sears account to cover his washing machine, and hairdryer.
He is now at home recuperating and is mindful of all the support he received from friends via their prayers and good wishes. So, if you don't plan on sending any cash, hold all your calls for a while, to allow his wife Gail to unpack her bags for the trip she planned to the Bahamas, as they had presented her with a dire outcome, but Bruno as usual beat the odds. So, Gail will just have to wait because the old-man won't quit
Bruno, for all the fun we had together starting in Grand Central Telecine and then to Vidicon Valley, to the field and a gazillion remotes. We broke our back, literally, but we meet the very best and the greatest, and they respected our efforts on their behalf. All-and all, Bruno, you remain the greatest character I have ever known. I love you, and Purnick, and I think of the two of you as one.
Stat buono, mia amici