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!