Shaken and stirred

Foolhardiness is an unexpected visitor. It drops in unannounced and the consequences are felt acutely for some period of time depending on the extent of its arrival impact.

I got up today at the grande olde hour of 11 am and felt damn pleased with myself. There was pin drop silence in the house as most members of the family had left for a wedding. A peek at the uninteresting breakfast and I decided that I will make my self a healthy milk shake. I chopped up some apples and put it in the blender and decided to give it a whirr and then add the Ice Cream (all those who thought I would put in milk...*snigger*). So I started the blender and apple pieces started flying every where in my mothers nice clean kitchen. I instinctively reached out to hold the lid down and...I will spare you the gristly details.

There was blood everywhere and … some pain, but then I was suddenly one finger less. There was no feeling in the left-click-the-mouse finger! I was so happy. This means it won’t pain! But the puddle forming on the floor wasn’t such a pretty sight. I never cared for blood red anyway!! Too Renaissance!

A quick dab with the kitchen towels took care of the blood bath the kitchen received and then I surveyed my hurt. I am no doctor, but this was a big boo boo err I mean hurt. And the boo boo err hurt looked like those photos of mangled accident victims. It was a grisly sight. A sight that would have made a first year medical college student go *swoon* *thud* and a second year medical student say “Yawn, I have seen better.”

Covering the hurt with another swathe of kitchen towel as I could not bear to look at it, I called my classmate, now an Intern at St Johns. Now a word about this classmate… lets call her Edema. When Edema decided to join med school, our girl gang were a relieved lot. At last ONE OF US was going to be a doctor. We were saved!! Every group in school had a medical school aspirant except us. Till 9th standard Edema showed no signs of interest in Medical School or Doctors and was nicknamed Dolly Parton. (She sang quite horribly and was flat chested. We were being kind.)

Edema was at the house in quick time. One look at my finger and she muttered something medical under the breath like “What the fcuk!!!” and rushed me into the car. Now Edema had all the qualities that a Doctor should have. She used to be a meek and silent girl in school (except when she was singing). But the moment she joined medical school, she became deaf, overbearing, developed really bad hand writing skills that only Medical Shop guys could read and started talking in strange tongues:

“Your hair is falling. I think you need a Brain surgery. Will Monday be alright?”

“You got stomach pain? You poor thing. Never mind we will do a hysterectomy. Will Tuesday be alright?”

We all are so proud of her. She will go far.

Back to our narrative. Edema drove at breakneck speed which is about 12 km per hour in a Reva and we reached St Johns in good time. Now this hospital is definitely NOT the place to go if I am planning to keep such incidences from my folks. What I mean is, if I were to throw a stone into this hospital it would hit a Doctor who is a relation and then the stone would be picked up and hurled angrily ( as the Doctor would be a mallu) and would hit an Intern who is also relation and he would in turn hurl the stone and hit a patient who is a relation / fellow kuntry man etc. etc.

And sure enough as we screeched into the hospital (break not working explained Edema) I am greeted by my cousin who is a Cardiac Surgeon. Cardiac Surgeon, lets call him Dr Ventricle, was like “Naaah, not too bad. You come with me. I will fix you up” and he promptly calls up my folks. My mom is rushed to the hospital for hyper ventilation and I get a break from everyone. Ha ha ha I am kidding. My torture continued.

Some eerie looking people in white descended on me and wheeled me full speed into the Operation Theater with Edema in hot in pursuit. I could almost imagine the report she would tender the next day.

Patient was rushed in bleeding profusely and near deaths door. Dr Ventricle, THE DR VENTRICLE please note, asked me to assist and I administered blah blah and did some blah blah and saved her from the jaws of death. Now that deserves an ‘A’ don’t you think Prof?

A really unforgettable hour later I had my beautifully manicured finger looking like it was suffering from Elephantiasis. There is enough bandage on my finger to mummify ten generation of Tutankhamens and some more. I keep seeing two of everything and my doggies sensing that something is wrong are fighting off depression and Edema’s suggestions that they to go in for Electric Shock Treatment. [My bro says it is a losing battle. My poor doggies :( ]

Whatay day!

p.s Edema says I can’t blog for some days or till I agree to have my finger chopped off.