What started as a minor headache soon took gigantic proportions, with every bone in the body aching as though pulverised under a giant mallet. The throat had developed some pins and needles in its cavity that pricked me with each swallow of substance. I am not a hypochondriac but my vivid imagination conjured up scary visuals.
What irked me more than the bodily suffering was the fact that I couldn’t get down to doing what I loved most – blogging. Like many others, I was vain enough to believe that fellow bloggers looked forward to reading my posts. So, on the third day, unable to ignore the agony, I walked into the nearest clinic.
The clinic I entered was a state-of –the –art affair, with impressive gadgets, chrome and glass everywhere. The young, prosperous white coat looked all business like as he poked, prodded and listened intently before handing me a long list of tests to be done. Feeling a little agitated I asked –“Is it serious?”
“Just routine. Get the results and see me tomorrow.”
I balked at the fees but the sheer confidence with which he handled my case, lulled me into a sense of security about the fellow’s competence. What followed was no less than a nightmare as I paid out a sizeable chunk of my savings to go through the manhandling by a lot of white-coats as they pricked, pummeled and pumped my weak body.
The following day, I landed up at the doc’s, clutching the staggering file of reports and came out a few minutes later, with a long prescription. Not to be dismissed so easily, I decided on a second opinion and a third one if necessary, for I firmly believed the worst.
I walked into another polyclinic and confronted the physician. He was a hearty fellow with a generous girth, given to laughing raucously every few minutes. He studied my reports with amazing interest and called for his assistant.
The aide turned out to be a pretty, young thing who nodded her head and whispered – “What could it be?”
“GOK”, replied the hefty senior, seriously.
I fled. GOK sounded more dangerous than the much-publicised AIDS. Trembling, I placed a long distance call to my cousin, a medico by profession.
“I am dying”, I cried. “I have got the GOK”.
A stunned silence greeted me while I let loose my lachrymal. Then came the crackle of laughter, floating down the line.
“You poor fool. GOK is ‘God only Knows’. We medicos use it when we can’t diagnose a malady. Just relax and don’t stuff yourself with antibiotics”.
That evening, my elderly neighbour called on me. Like all ill people are likely to do, I updated her with the latest bulletin on my health.
“You poor thing. It is just the weather change”, she said. “I will get my honey-ginger brew for you.”
Sure enough, just two doses of the ambrosia put me back on my feet. So much so for the GOK peddlers who had fleeced me clean.
Close
Hi MQ,
Glad you liked it....it is true (with a pinch of masala)......
Reply | | Report Abuse
Hi Sivaram,
Oh, yes, I am back in action....thanks!
Tanushree
Reply | | Report Abuse
Hi Amit,
Thanks!!!
Cheers!
Tanushree
Reply | | Report Abuse
Hi Komlet,
thanks!!
Reply | | Report Abuse
Hi Sampath,
I always say 'Laughter is the best medicine'....comes free, too...
Reply | | Report Abuse
Hi Usha,
Yes, that's true...
Reply | | Report Abuse
Dear Madhvi,
No, no, I wouldn't dare....it's an exaggeration, of course...Madhvi, one needs laughter in life and such incidents provide the laughs....as a doctor you'd agree that laughter is the best medicine so I dole out a bit of it to the depressed world...that's my little contribution...
Docs are great....honestly....
tanushree
Reply | | Report Abuse
Dear Kamalji,
GOK is God's own....ha, ha, ha...
Regds,
Tanushree
Reply | | Report Abuse
Hi Reflector,
Thankkkkssss!
Reply | | Report Abuse
Hi Tanu
?
Amusing, but true. How else are they going to get their ROI
Reply | | Report Abuse
- 1
- 2
- 3
- 4
- 5
- 6
- 7
- Next 7»
Displaying 31 - 40 of 83 Blog Comments