Well, this post is calculated to put a smile on the reader’s face. But you have a choice – To either not take my word for it and continue to be the very same sane or insane person you are today, as the case maybe or take all my words herein and get transformed into an extremely insane person for sure. If you happen to have read at least a few of the posts on this blog, chances are that you don’t belong to the sane category any longer. All right. You are advised to consume this if your appetite for the great blogospheric-nonsense risk is good.
This story is akin to the flashback scenes in movies. All of it except the last part actually precedes this one and this one and this one. If you’ve been following this blog for sometime, despite my attempts to introduce acute chronological confusion in you, you may be able to figure out the story in the right sequence. On the other hand, if you suffer from congenital chronic chronological confusion, this inappropriate sequencing may jolt you enough to actually help you recover. Why delay the story when I can be of such significant service to the society? So, here goes….
The doctor examined my ankle from all ankles…err...I mean…angles. After gently poking it in various areas and waiting for my response – which was either an ouch or a shake of the head – and getting a loud ouch when poked on the fibula (or is it tibula…or, wait….tibia….or, what the heck, maybe fibia??) nearabouts the ankle junction or whatever it is called, he furrowed his brow and suggested an x-ray. The ray of hope that I had till that moment about there being no serious problems with my ankle retraced its particles a bit. The x-ray arrived after a while only to turn my ray of hope into an ex-ray of hope. The doc declared a bone to be slightly broken (chipped) and a ligament underneath it somewhat licked. Plaster was what the doctor ordered. This was definitely not what I had expected. So, I tottered a bit. (Please note that this action is performed by an expert and you are advised not to imitate it especially when you happen to be relying on one foot that is temporarily subjected to infrastructural constraints resulting in below-par performance.)
The plaster was therefore wrapped around my feet and lower portion of the leg and I was let loose on the world. “Ruthless!”, some people I know may have declared without a moment’s hesitation. Of course, they would be referring to the world’s plight (on the introduction of a new monster) rather than mine. Anyways, the world has faced many such challenges before and I was sure it could brace itself for one more. I stepped out of the clinic on one leg and surveyed the landscape from the door to the vehicle while revolving around my right leg and almost crushing the physiotherapist who had unwittingly offered to provide me support till the vehicle. Mother earth seemed to be teasingly inviting me to pay my respects to her with both my feet whilst she very well knew my left leg had to be suspended in air for at least a few days.
Even as I wondered how my poor right leg would manage so much weight single-leggedly (err…to say ‘single-handedly’ would be such a gross misrepresentation of facts), the mobile rang. A sane person would have carried on regardless of whether mobiles were ringing or elephants were singing, in such a situation. You can’t of course expect that from yours truly. I promptly picked up the phone even as my right leg as well as the physiotherapist pleaded for liberation. On the other end of the telecommunication line was a very good friend, all the way from Europe. But I immediately realized my folly and knew I had no time for conversations and had to run…err…hop…to the vehicle as quickly as I could or I may end up hurting my other leg as well and not to forget, kill an innocent physiotherapist in the bargain. So, I settled for something equally dangerous – losing a good friend. I quickly babbled into the phone about ankles being fractured and put in casts and that I would not have any problems if she hung up and hanged herself or some such gibberish. Being a clever person, she knew what to do. She grabbed the opportunity to put the phone down without delay and I suspect I heard her thank her stars as she did so. (Latest update – Apparently, she has been enquiring about possible vacancies in erstwhile concentration camps on a ‘good’ friend’s behalf. I am fervently hoping that she didn’t mistake my usage of the word ‘cast’ for holocaust. Appropriately speaking, the very thought casts a hollow feeling)
The trek back home is an experience I’d rather not recount. Once I landed on my bed (whew!!), I knew I would have to stick to it as much as possible for three weeks or so. What a blow and that too when it was soon to be my birthday and a couple of cousins (and a niece and nephew) were to come down from other countries to pretend to celebrate the same! I suspect that one of my cousins, known for her practical thinking, grabbed the chance to get back at me for some fights that I had apparently won against her when we were children. She thrust some school books on my face and challenged me to do the holiday assignment that was given to her son. (Hey cousin, if you happen to read this, please note that I am just kidding! Not that you don’t know better than to ever rely on me again for any sort of school assignment ;)) Now, the son (and his sister) were complete darlings and did everything possible to help me protect my leg as well as keep me in high spirits. So, I gave in and ‘helped’ the nephew with the assignment. (If you want me alive, don’t worry. I plan to disappear for a few days once his school reopens. Don’t you think a few days would be sufficient for a teacher and a cousin and her family - just returned from treatment for mental shocks - cool down? And it is to my advantage that they live in a different country, far away from me)
Three weeks later, fast forwarding to the recent past, I came out of the clinic having cast off my cast and gotten a clean certificate from the doc. I celebrated the deprivation of the concrete attachment that had made me look like a penguin with a heavy left foot. A smile split my face. Hey, wait a minute. Split, my foot! (Please note the coma after the word split. I am very particular about punctuations.) Actually, I think I’ll retain just 60% of the original word. I’ll change split to lit. The sentence will thus read - ‘A smile lit my face’. But the occasional pain still lurks and getting back on my feet to the former extent will be no mean feat.
Important Note: This post is dedicated to PLUM who is a major influence in my life. His works inspire me to look at the lighter side of situations however challenging or difficult they may be. PLUM: I dread to imagine what the world would be like without your literary master-pieces at large! Toodle-oo! Pip-pip! :)