Tuesday, March 8, 2011

Sickness, Blues and All That - I

The Particular Girl is grievously sick, and too weak to blog. And to add insult to serious injury, she has NOT lost her mind and sense of humour despite the atrocious pain, while the people all around seemingly have, while they are fretting over her. Now, when will people learn to appreciate the little things of life even in the midst of crisis? Just yesterday, as I was limping to get my USG done (another horrendous experience, and the doctor had absolutely NO imagination, and sense of humour whatsoever), I couldn't help but marvel at the wonderfully glorious sunshine outside, and the quiet of the afternoon. Of course, no one else seemed to notice, and I was about to swerve and say, "Hello? Now who's in pain here, huh?" But I saved it all for a later time, when I would doubtless feel more laconic.

The unimaginative doctor tells me to drink "6-7 liters of water". How preposterous is that! Currently I am dousing myself in hundreds of medicines, one post-lunch, two post-dinner, a half post-reverie, a quarter post-semi-drowsy-state, three-at-a-go before formally hitting the bed, and two more if "the-patient-has-been-mischievous-enough-to-skip-a-dose-or-postpone-the-meal-or-delay-the-rest." Well then, you get the general picture.

One consolation comes from the revelation that beer is supposedly an "excellent diuretic" or so the boring doctor says without the slightest spark in his voice (really!). While I hail "Das Bier" in the cheeriest possible tones, the mother looks disapprovingly, the father apologetically, and the doctor crossly, further clarifying, "That also doesn't happen to be our culture. So you just have to drink gallons of water." I was about to thrust my tongue out to him in vengeance, but checked myself just in time for a sudden spasm. Nevertheless, the vindictive bitch got into work, manipulating the emotions of the father in her favour, narrating how das Bier is cheaper than packaged drinking water in Deutschland, how it had replaced water during an epidemic hundreds of years ago, how a "good" (read: Deutschen brand) Bier would do her much better than gallons of boring water, and voila, the father is swayed! Waiting for the first crate to reach home soon. (hic! Or no hic!)

I have been changing my posture continuously in the hope of finding a more congenial one, where the pain will be lesser, but apparently that isn't helping much. Guess I just have to lie straight in bed. Boring as that may sound, I am trying to make the best out of it, in terms of the care and concern that friends and family are oozing over me (truth be told, I could do without the sympathy, though, and all that, "You can't live alone like this! See? This is what happens" crap). A bit of compromise for the greater good, eh? Till I make a full recovery and come back hale, hearty and wiser, I proclaim my intense and utter revulsion towards stones of all kinds - and I could employ the choicest cuss-words before you could say the s-word.

Ahh, that's what medicines do to one. No offense meant! Au revoir, and hey, pray for me!


  1. O LA LA !! Inspite of her seemingly atrocious pain..and state.. Particular Gal writes!!!!

  2. Continuing from the above comment...She writes, and how! The pain is there, of course, a rather painful reminder...but the frothy humour somehow puts it on the back-burner...(ok, this is strictly conforming to the "reader-response" jargon :p) Wishing that a mental stony stare would make the errant stone dissolve, and hoping that Particular Gal enjoys the brighter aspects of her plight...Hic Hic Hooray!!!! ;)

  3. Soumyabrata and Punky - With people like you around, any pain gets whisked away to inferno. :)