Sunday, August 31, 2008

What I talk about when I talk about being bed-ridden

Yes, you got it- I'm reading Murakami's What I talk about when I talk about running. Very inspiring, but can't even bend down to tie up sneaker-laces. The irony is I'm bed-ridden - yet again! This is the 9th time in my life that my back has packed up.

The first 7 times, I had to spend a couple of months in bed every damn year. Not so wonderful, I can assure you. Lots of chocolates have to be consumed to get a happy feeling, and calories only get burnt when you turn from this side to that. So say 5000 calories of chocs (hey, I was bloody miserable, I needed a massive dopamine high!) a day minus 3 or 4 calories from turning. Also, I was working then and all my leave was frittered away staring at the damn ceiling fan and wishing I were dead instead of just being dead bored. What's even worse is this- with all that time to do nothing, you think. And even if you become enlightened by all that thinking, all you really discover is that life stinks and nirvana is a damn good concept and hope it happens (to me) super fast!

The 8th time it happened, I went to yet another doc and discovered that, hello, the second coming has already come. This man, Dr. Vijay Sheel Kumar, is Jesus! He put me back on my feet within 48 hours- he made a bed-ridden woman walk again!!!!

Sadly, 5 years later, the problem is back (cheap pun) and Dr. Kumar's in Delhi, I'm in Mumbai, but Alexander Graham Bell has brought us together again. Medicines and physio precribed over the phone. Within 72 hours I'm going to be doing a Murakami- or else it's the ceiling fan again. Not staring at it but hanging from it. If I can stand up unaided, that is.
Only silver lining in my cloud of gloom: physiotherapist plays rock.

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