Monday, July 28, 2008

A surprise visit

This is a funny place for a restaurant. Oh well, Mangalore's a quaint place anyway. Upstairs.


Huh?!? No way. I'm not going to the doctor. That's ridiculous. One silly cold that refuses to part with me and you behave like I'm dying? You can't do this to me. Why didn't you tell me; I could have at least prepared myself - the wait outside, the sick, the questions, plastic smile, thanks a lot doc.


Fine. I'll shut up. Won't talk. Ever. Half-wet from the rain. Probably get a cold for this and nothing else. What about dinner, huh? Bare feet on cold tiles. I'm not used to that anymore. Yea, yea, we can keep the raincoats anywhere. Not outside, you idiot! Under my chair.


There's that hospital smell again. Reminds me of grandpa's death. One day I see him, unable to talk, but still there, invincible. The spot of blood on the floor. Next day, he's gone. Just dead. Looked like he was sleeping. Except for the smell of phenol. And then Nan's operation. Different hospital. Same bloody smell. Fist-sized malignant tumour and 50% chance.


Annoying kid. Hospitals are meant to be quiet. Why are you looking at me like that? Freak, yea, I know. Most everyone thinks so anyway. Don't give a damn shit. Go play skipping tiles. Wish I was a kid again. No worries. I only ever come to the doctor with Mum. I never know what to tell a doctor. And anyway, Bhatkuly is a family doctor. Deep fatherly voice - "Hellooo0, Dielle isn't it?"


Mai-gaa-bla bla. Medicine names in Hindi. Weird. I wonder what he keeps in that fridge. Home pregnancy tests? I should ask him for one. Loudly. Just to see the reaction. When we went to buy one for her, the guy at Spencer's never flinched. Good. I like that. What's their problem what people do with their lives anyway.


Next, me? Finally. Hmph. Message. Jesh! He better get me in Battle of the Bands for free. I better delete all these old ones, and those phone numbers I don't need. I hate waiting at the doctor's. No ants to follow here either. Just great.


Arthritis? She's so young, what 45, and she's got arthritis. Shit! She better hurry up. I'm sick of waiting here.


Ha, good. "I suffer from a constant cold. I'd been to a homeopath and she told me I had sinusitis, but I never finished the treatment, so it's kinda stuck with me I guess.


"No, no. No fever. The whole sneezing fit I used to get in the mornings has gone too. Occasionally, yea, but otherwise I'm fine."


Breathe in. Breathe out. Breathe in. Breathe out.


Same bloody shit. Sinusitus. Pharynx something. Mild inflammation of the left tonsil. Where the hell did those two come from? Whatever. Back in 7 days, a whole truck load of medecines to take.


"Not studying, I'm working. With P.... A.......... at Mphasis. Not Infosys. Mphasis. I work with a newswire agency." Or so, I like to call it.


Pink and white. White. Blue plastic. Syrup. Stop, enough. Morning, afternoon, night. Morning, night. Night. Forgotten already. S'okay. Wow. A whole month's 10 buck lunch. On pills. I feel like a junkie. Only there's no high.


I still owe him a cake and dinner. Even though he said it's cool. Poor guy. I really make him suffer. Thanks. I wish I could wipe that face off him. It's horrid when he puts it on. I don't like it when he's mad, or upset. I don't like it when anyone's mad or upset. What am I supposed to say? Sorry? It's been said so many times before. But I really do mean it.


2 comments:

Namitha said...

I'd better not comment, after being a co-conspirer for the visit that provoked this post...

Debby said...

Well, hospitals, they are where you went and came out cured or died -- according to your luck! Cheers!