...That's what the nephew calls him, regular customer, older, maybe 70. Used to come in a few years ago with his Oxygen tank, would overhear him discussing his forthcoming lung transplant, hard to find suitable donors, and his friend was suggesting all the third world countries where you buy a new set of lungs, no questions asked, India, China, other places, but the Highlander, he's fussy, gotta be the right size and fresh and all...
He's still around, in once or twice a week, he's gotten his new lungs but the cancer's spread, he's got skin grafts and bandages all over his body, his face, bandages, obvious scars where he's had tumors removed, it's not just lungs, he's now a composite of no less than a dozen people, he's ignoring all clear signals that it's time to depart, he's got some unfinished business and so the doctors keep swapping out parts and adding new grafts, the nephew's convinced, despite his dire appearance, that he's going to live forever...