One of the most intriguing things someone can find about himself or herself is of being un-well, when they think “aal izz well” in their life. Seldom does it happens when we are sick but don’t feel so because either we don’t really feel so, feel the need of feeling so- externally or internally or just don’t want to join of the league of the sick hence damned. Damned I say because of the experiences which you could possibly undergo once you come under doctoral assessment cum stethoscope.
My recent ordeal was no less eventful than a learning of a lifetime. I really can’t possibly remember the last time I was sick or needed acute medical attention. TOUCHWOOD but not exactly, as very recently I encountered a medical condition or rather conditions which I didn’t knew of before lying down nonchalantly on a doctor’s ‘sickbed’. Don’t know why but strange things keep running through your mind while on the sickbed, flashings of extreme im-possible situations to the mildest possible happening. Not to mention the goose bumps of an external ‘male’ hand running all over your body and the presence of a weird grin on your face to which the doctor doesn’t even bother to see or interpret- cold yet heart warming, might be due to professional hazards or same sex syndrome or inspired from ‘Mamu’ of Munnabhai :).
Any medical situation is undertaken with great care in these times, depending on the weight of your purse more than the case under consideration. Mild cough, cold, fever or motionless loosening of bowels is still treated by ourselves if alone or handled effectively by the non-MBBS but never less than a doctor at our respective homes or neighborhood. The plight of an average common man under the light of health conditions and facilities has become bad to worse, adding to which are the inadequate facilities at Government hospitals and exorbitant charges in private hospitals. Don’t want to even mention anything starting with this letter G, it has more so become an apparition rather than a reality. Private hospitals are just as intriguing a case as my ‘sickness’, which must have looked good if a word ‘sick-less’ existed; more about it after this para. Being sick today is a bane more so when you come from a weak background, devouring rather than just consuming your time which is money and money which comes from some fruitful venture-here work for money. If all this got a little serious, (don’t be amazed, I can dabble my hands at serious stuffs too 🙂 I meant to be so, no half measures when it comes to health which ultimately is the source to all the wealth or vice versa :).
My doctor (how soon they become ours, without ever truly being yours) after a brief examination scribbled something on a prescription sheet, hardly readable except a few words which I knew due to my science background “Mild local tenderness over Leprochordrian”. Yes the last word is still inexplicable as Google also couldn’t google and ogle the same. More so I could never understand why all the ‘docs’ write what and how they write, only to be read or solved by the ultra qualified medical store people. It must be some kind of training and practice which they receive and undergo, all through the years they vie for that MBBS, MD, MS and a host of other degrees, to write in a manner stuffs which either only they, the medicine store personnel or their fellow brethren could decipher correctly. The secret of their covert calligraphy, banished for all other human forms.
Well, some of the other un-readable words which I could possibly read or make out were under a box named ‘Adv’ possibly meaning ‘advisable’, only because these words were going to cost me (read hurt me) more than my ‘local tenderness’ pain. The adv’s were CBC (complete blood count), LFT (liver function test), stool (don’t even ask me explain this) and USG Abdomen (Ultrasonography). The first two were easy, piece of cake aka a full syringe of pure ‘rajput’ blood squeezed out of my right arm’s green looking, red blood transporting vein. The second was to be effected by my own natural efforts of lifting ‘that stuff’, which I have already asked you not to mention, by a miniature spoon shaped device, eventually turning out to be an extraordinarily ghastly/sick/repellent feat. May God forbade all thee from all such exercises. The USG test was the most amusing and painful one in terms of look, reach and effect. Painful as being the costliest test, as pre and post this, never could understand the rational behind this reason, which I had heard is exclusively done for or is the exclusive privilege of pregnant to be or existing mothers. A placard on the door and inside the USG room stated “No sex determination is done here. Sex determination is a liable criminal offence”, was a resounding claim to what I had heard but never seen, until now.
On the diagnosis table, I was asked to strip down which I did without a second thought to my utmost surprise, till my very lower abdominal part, only to expose much and receiving a comment from the attending sister/nurse “bas, bas itna kaafi hai”. As in I was less embarrassed by exposing the hairy, fat filled human blubber, changing shapes from a small hillock to a plain as we proceed further south. After half an hour of slimy exercise running all over from abdomen to lower pelvic region and being practiced at (‘haanth saaf karna’ would be most appropriate) by three docs and one seemingly interested, interesting looking sister/nurse, I was told “sab theek hai”. I couldn’t hold myself back after this self permitted assault, and asked “is it really so, or I can take a reference from a typical Bollywood situation where the patient isn’t ever intimated about the eventuality, but his/her poor relative bears the brunt?”. The lady doctor affirmed the claim and the sister/nurse began her job of cleaning the gel from my abdomen used as a lubricant facilitating USG.
All through this process I was feeling like a small but conscious child, eager to know things happening to and around him not withstanding interpreting the readings on the TFT screen, full of black & white squares having my internal processed cum provoked organs. Smiles, momentary grin and laughs accompanied me all the time and something like these on the face of the lady doc and the sister. The same sex docs still hadn’t overcome the same sex syndrome. The catch in all this lies in the still existent ‘mild local tenderness’ after all the pain, pleasure and provocation (physical and otherwise). I, after all have a mighty (healthy) heart to live (moments), bear (pain full of costs) and smile (in love) away all this and more, so should you.