Sour and Sweet!!!
At least that was what the original plan had been. With the barcode of a name wrapped around my wrist, things seemed optimistically certain of getting alleviated. Two hours later, with nearly giving up on the last bit of self-control to not pull every hair of the scalp, I asked humbly to the ER nurse, "I've been here for two hours. Is the doctor coming?" After counting every bit of hair I had plucked of sheer pain in my imagination twice, I went again and enquired, "Ma'am, it's been four hours......" Walking back in agony, I started doing the 'expecting dad'. For every ten to and fros I traveled I checked the wall clock and it seemed like time had snail juice written all over its path.
Seven brutal hours later I walked to the shift over nurse, bit the plastic bar code wrapped around the wrist, pulled it, set it on the window gap of her counter, smiled, and said, "I guess my teeth is all fine now. I can chew good" and pointed my finger to the bar code. I finished with "Please cancel my emergency off the schedule. Thank you" and exited. Suffering on the edge along with a few partial things I witnessed took evasive action in such a manner. The severity in pain though should have been the reason for keeping me insomniac on bed, the guilt of such an act kept me awake. Thanks to it, the happiness of donating blood the number of times more than my age the next day all dissolved into a painful fever. Ended up watching this again. Hopefully the fever doesn't hold me from going to this on Friday (Would be 5 yrs in a row).
Today, a mail from the hospital came in regretting that their standards of service could not suit my emergency needs. "My foot!" was the instant remark in my mind considering the fact that they treated really sick, old, and really young people the same way - by letting them wait and suffer till they are Grey enough for an Anatomy of more insurance money. (This is the fifth time I had been in the ER and I've seen too much shit) Too bad, they had close ones comforting in their sickness and holding on to this brutal concept of an ER in the US.
Anyways, the things I found in the seven vital hours of thoughtful food are
1. Pandora can be loaded with Indian songs (old ones too) and I've listened to this like a few ten times submerged in oblivion.
2. Moment before walking off to the nurse counter #1 - I had realized that the biggest advantage I had with the tooth ache was, 'I had full control over my #1 vice'. Heck, I was ready to test it further instead of rotting here.
3. Moment before walking off to the nurse counter #2 - "I'm getting old and I need something to rely on" buzzed from Pandora's rock channel and I decided I'd better start relying on self if things stay this way for a long time.
4. Moment before walking off to the nurse counter #3 - The person second next to me in terms of admit was a sick kid. He waited for the fricking same seven hours for no treatment. And I decided to contribute a push by simply walking off.
10 hrs later - Disappointed of how boring and same my alter ego was to the original me in my dream (nodding in disbelief)
Lunch - For the first time ever I hated the favorite French dip from Arbys coz the tongue has grown in admiration to self cooking (Colacassia fry, Bhindi masala, Palak Paneer, Malai Kofta, Fish Fry and Mango Sambhar in 1 week of home rest).
Now - The chemistry between desi senior lab members and Gori sisters of the lab is so bad that I am tempted to write a 2 page report on the obvious potential blunders of an hypothesis, the qualifier taking grad student has proposed. Hell, with it! I am sending it to the boss with a note that let him do the talking/discussion with the student. Guess, it's really big time to scoot from the current lab.