wedlocks and wenlock

After hitting the snooze for the sixth time, I decided to put the alarm off. I was anyway wide awake, would get out of bed in a couple of minutes. It was 20 minutes past 9 when i woke up! Just the previous day our new unit head had briefed us about how he wanted the things around to be. He sounded more than just particular about punctuality. Ok, I had ten minutes to reach. Thank god for aprons, any shabby thing you wear underneath goes unnoticed. Popped in some candy into my pockets to help me sustain standing for long hours. There have been quite a few episodes. I'm known for it. So much so that, when class gets boring in wards my friends signal me to fake some fainting. Prof usually stops the class there or we get a break atleast when somebody faints. Not that I oblige, it's pretty embarrassing when it actually happens.

I raced to the auto stand and hopped into an auto. I realized I was already late. Another realization struck that we were supposed to have read some topic for that day's class and I so casually had forgotten about it. I opened the book to atleast look through the headings. Some set of questions are always shot at the junior batch with the antecedent 'Fresh from anatomy' title. Bah! How I hate that phrase. Sometimes I feel like telling them what my definition of 'fresh' is. I also feel bad that if not for my flimsy job at it a year ago, I could have handled these situations better. Also realizing that it wasn't the apt moment for retrospection, I read on.

I reached. I straightened my hair, stroked my puffy eyes to look as presentable as possible as I held my breath while rushing through a particular corridor to avoid the stench of toilets. It has become a habit now. I was late, nervous. Before I could have two minds about attending clinics that day, I made an entry into the ward. I was relieved to see only my unit mates who were loitering around. I was told that HE had slipped in his bathroom and fractured his elbow (so loyal to the dept I thought) and won't be coming for some days. After a while I wiped the grin off my face and scolded myself for being secretly happy.

Some PG came for case discussion. He showed us the X-ray and asked us "if we can able to appreciate the trabaculaes." I let out a small giggle, so he handed it over to me and asked me to read it. A senior briefed us on the history. This case was a 62 year old man who had sustained 5 fractures altogether in a disastrous road traffic accident. Forget about paying for his hip replacement surgery, he couldn't even afford to replace his tattered rags. For financial aid/consent for surgery, presence of a family member is required. When his wife and son were told about the catastrophe which was almost a week ago neither one of them took responsibility whatsoever. But this man thinks there has been definite lack of communication. He is sure that his wife is going to turn up soon and still is waiting in hope. However, he is going to be operated this Saturday I think.

He was fast asleep. We were asked to examine him. Seeing our hesitation to wake him up, the PG slapped him on the back and coarsely ordered him to answer our queries. He looked miserable but managed a meek smile on seeing so many enthusiastic faces. All this only because he is being charged minimal. Big difference. But still what do people lose in being little gentle.. This is an exam case with all the findings we were told. I remembered what the dean had told us on the orientation day. The Wenlock govt district hospital is a gold mine for acquiring clinical skills. That's all these people are to us. Teaching subjects.

Seeing the disapproval on my face he told me, "We are not responsible for the misery in the world. We can just do our duty. Being sorry helps nobody." True. After the discussion, I went back to my hostel and forgot about it.

It is like reading about an adversity in the newspaper. You are pitiful for a while. Then turn the paper and you are solving the crossword or chuckling at a comic strip.

life's little lessons

I would hardly even pick it up from the refrigerator myself. I need royal treatment when I am studying. This is a favour I do (for whom I don't exactly know.) Otherwise also the walk till the kitchen is too long and it kinda tires me. Chilled, firm, saccharine sweet, toothsome, neatly peeled Alfonsos cut into cubes, mixed with condensed milk, shredded cashewnuts and almonds served in China ware dishes. This is one of my all time favourite desserts. Still I'd fuss about how mom lacks ideas and made it so often and how her over feeding was responsible for my cellulite. I hated it when at times the cubes got soggy.

Now, eating even the local variety mango is almost a luxury. I consult my friend behind me in the queue to make the best choice. After all this has to compensate for the sad dinner. The mess worker makes a face. I have half a mind to take longer and return her frown. But i choose to ignore. I pick one up after detailed examination and leave. No elaborate dissection, no garnishing. Rip it with hands and chew the pulp off the peel. Handling the slippery seed, trickling of juice till the elbow and fibre between teeth are my new skills.

This is one of the things my stay is the hostel has showed me - to look forward to and enjoy the messy experience. I also terribly appreciate good cooking. Sounds like one of those Tinkle's "humbling of the haughty girl" types, doesn't it?

My misty mornings in Mangalore

Usually the whole of first week you just get to move the steering wheel like a dummy when your instructor handles the rest of the controls. But just by 2nd day I could take charge of most of it. Sir was visibly impressed. Being the sucker for praise that I am, little did I mention about the previous lessons from dad. (Then why I have joined a driving school is another story.)

The slot of this driving school mate is just before mine. He comes with gelled hair, butt hugging jeans and all early in the morning. He can easily replace Sallu in Tere naam2 if it's ever made. Can't point a reason, but he irritates me. We don't even acknowledge each other's presence. They pick me up and at a particular place we switch places and I get the steering. Each time sir pushes the seat behind by a good dozen centimetres and I look at this guy through my mirror and smirk mildly. My cheap thrills.

Notorious stories about few nasty driving instructors trying shady tricks are quite known. Women sometimes insist on female instructors it seems. Sir runs his school all by himself. So his 30 years old brain's solution, he calls every girl 'beta'. Even if you are 20.

His chatter ranges from a wide variety of subjects. He gives me the highlights of FIFA WC. He'll tell me how rewarding it would be if I choose to pursue an MD in gynecology. Next moment he talks about this newly opened store where his wife bought dress materials from. A rickshaw tries to overtake us from the left. This man now builds my vocabulary of filth in Tulu. (He is of some help, I must say. Like Calvin says, "Life's disappointments are harder to take when you don't know any swear words.") A while later the gossip update in the MLA's house continues. Before I realise, my half an hour's up.

flat tyres to hickeys..

The weekend was almost over, sunday evening. (The same gloomy mood in anticipation of going to school the next day, that used to prevail after watching some Ananth Nag/Ramesh movie on DD9 which i so sincerely watched on Sunday evenings as a kid.) Next day's hectic ortho OPD.. Not that we do anything tiring, but then standing for 2-3 long hours and examining patients with low back ache for the twentieth time in a day is definitely not my idea of fun. I was pondering about my unfinished assignment. "Cursing a flat tyre does not fix it" were the words of wisdom for the day on my desk calendar. So I decided I might as well actually write it.

A couple of my friends suddenly had this strong urge to play Scrabble. I put aside my 'tyre fixing' job for a while and joined in. We put on some Blue and mixed ourselves some orange Tang and started off. I already felt better.

I wasn't faring too well. When they were coming up with 'BONNET', 'FORCEPS', 'QUEUE', 'LAX', 'BOXER' (Z and X are ten points each! Plus the double/triple letter scores used to be conveniently around) I was struggling with petty 3-4 lettered words. Thanks to the set of my 7 alphabet squares I kept getting which almost always consisted of vowels and an occasional R or T which again would fetch not more than a point.

My constant companion through adoloscence - acne had made the cosmetically over conscious me, look up the net on a few occasions. Nothing really helps, but I like to be informed. During one of those times I had come across this word.

I got Z-10 I-1 T-1 with Z on a triple letter score. 32! Hurray! I did not win the game, but I didn't come last either. After the squares got over, we were bickering over the purposeful silly totalling errors we had done with each of our scores. The annoying, grim senior next door barged into my room with her ever so knotted face and ordered us to shut our mouths and lower the player volume. Some exam was coming up it seems, little did we care. She banged the door and left. Peals of laughter followed. Another evening fruitfully spent i thought..

PS: Bala and umm.. you don't have a pet name.. I'll just call you CS. Excuse me for the 'tiny' deviations here and there from what actually happened yesterday. Winkie!

library blues

Sessional's a week away
Know well gotto study night and day
Neither am i one of those who listens to all the stuff in class
Nor someone who'll study from the beginning kickass
Ought to cram max in the last min
Or flunking is gonna surface all my sins
So, here i sit in the library
Teaching myself the patho of aneurysm of Berry
My mind wanders a lot, Robbin's is pale and dull
God bless the power cut, gonna go into silent lull

one fine night..

i was exceptionally jobless and lazy. i was feverish. i disregarded it as being psychological and decided to sleep it out. (i do NOT normally cook up illnesses unless i very badly need some pampering.) i woke up feeling no better. (4 sentences and 6 'i's so far. this blog is MINE, so whatever it is, so be it.) the day dragged on, felt weaker. i decided to get myself checked. at the casualty, the PG asked me to get the routine investigations done. urine test was one in the list.

first of all, i was so dehydrated. getting myself to pee was one thing. plus i was anorexic. anything edible/drinkable seemed revolting. after forced efforts to gulp down some tender coconut water and being the butt of my friend's jokes for ten minutes, i managed to get an impulse. went to the loo with the tiny bottle. now, aiming to piss into it was another task! (thanks to my paranoid dad, i too have become over cautious about hospi infection. he still gives me instructions before i get even a simple TT shot.)

finally the task was done. i came out carrying the bottle with a sense of satisfaction. i just realised there were a couple of my professors around. i suddenly felt conscious/awkward. i hurried to the technicians table and made an exit from the scene.

After all the drama, i was hoping for malaria atleast. i did feel really sick. atleast i could say i had something decently big. to my disappointment the PG told me the reports are normal and prescribed some paracetamol and warm saline gargle. no antibiotics also! stupid meager viral pharyngitis..