The weather getting pretty cold, I’ve been coughing for a week now & my voice sounds like sandpaper being rubbed against the wall. Now my throat is aching big time. It has finally dawned on me that I’ll pretty much be coughing thru next week also if I didn’t visit a doctor soon
If it hasn’t clicked to you by now why I havent seen a doctor yet ….let me elaborate…I hate them all..Hospitals, Clinics, doctors, nurses, injections, stitches, THE WORKS!!!!!!!!!!!
It all started at the tender age of 7 when an evil looking doc holding a deadly looking injection advanced towards me while I sat in the dentists chair horribly cornered. He in a sudden movement stabbed the needle into my exposed gum[forcibily exposed by the nurse who had me in a death grip]. I jerked back in terror leaving half the needle in my gum & the other half in his hand. I still recall the shocked look on his face while he tried to assimilate how a routine jab went dreadfully awry. I’m willing to bet that for the next few months he would have hesitated everytime he leaned forward to inject another victim.
And before you ask, infact don’t ask………just don’t just ask how I went thru the deliveries. I have blanked them out of my mind. I vaguely remember being dragged into the hospital in the middle of the night, kicking & screaming…..cut….. next thing I know there’s a tiny bundled up red faced kiddo looking hopefully at me for breakfast.
As usual I have wandered off the topic……I was talking about how my throat & voice have suffered the torture of dry racking cough which leaves me tired & drained out. I hope I don’t sound too vain when I say that my voice is one claim to fame.
My voice is not the typically feminine type, a bit deep and coupled with the fact that I can talk & argue in the Queens Language fluently, fills me with an inflated sense of my own importance.
An Indian will recognize me as another Indian but will be hard pressed to make out which state I’m from. A Malayalee(from Kerala for Agnes information) brought up in Bangalore, I don’t have the typical Malayalee accent & sometimes amuse myself confusing others from my native place. I pursued English Literature upto the postgraduate level but that I feel didn’t help much except for the fact that I learnt the names of some poets & to write the same sentence in 10 different ways to make my essays look longer.
I worked till last month as an administrative staff in an Interior decoration Company. Whenever there was a crisis & if it could be handled by phone I was always the one my boss dropped it on.
*When the Client deferred on their payments I would demand to speak to their Manager.
*When we defaulted on our payments to the subcontractors I would apologize handsomely & would get a week’s breathing space to pay them.
*When there was a problem at the site the Client would especially ask for me by name & would pour their woes to me. Never mind the fact I cannot make out the difference between Bird Eye Maple & Sapeley Mapeley myself if it strolled past me(they are both different types of wood, for the totally ignorant)……I would be suitably indignant on their behalf & promise to look into the matter immediately.With a westernised name like mine & a voice like……like somebody important, nobody ever asked me what my position in the Company was.
Just once or twice some people made the effort to meet me in person & boy you should have seen the bewildered expression on their faces. Totally letdown, they made valiant efforts to hide it. Obviously the ….ummm…..well-built physique didn’t quite match upto the remarkable voice & speech.
And just where is this one-sided monologue leading you might be tempted to ask & I hasten to let you know that I have no clue. I started this post with the intention of getting you to sympathize with my throat condition & urge me on my way to the doc.