Let's play Doctor

A friend (for more on him, refer his blog) pointed out that if you listen to me yap for an hour, you will hear at least one reference to medical science. That's when the glass broke. I realised it's true. But I really can't help it. I have grown up hearing passively conversations revolving around Medicine. My Pathologist father would discuss all sorts of tissues with my mom - carcinomas, malignancy, benign, CA - these were terms that we are used to and are quite indifferent to at home. My Anesthetist mother would tell him in return about her surgeries all day - hypertensive patient, obese, difficult to intubate. So, every evening we have had our dose of medicine. We are even used to my father explaining to the physician on the phone as they discuss a patient, the consistency of the tissue - he always compares it to food - curd like consistency, ghee like appearance, mango colour. We never found it gross although we complain about it endlessly. We are at home with this jargon.

As a kid, I would sit in my dad's chair in his lab and see myself there 20 years down the line. In my heart of hearts, I guess I wanted to be Dr. Apoorva Raje. The perks of belonging to a doctor family were taken for granted by us. Whenever we would fall sick, we would get VIP treatment. Of course the downside for having a Pathologist at home is that he takes your blood sample every single time you have fever. But some part of me always liked all the paraphernalia. Especially the little blue gadget that pricks the tip of your finger to test your sugar. My dad's briefcase is one of the most sacred things at home. It has a special place in the house. It is what we carry as we see him off every morning and run to collect as we hear his car park at the gate every evening. It has always had the same arrangement of all basic instruments.. a box for slides, cuvettes, syringes neatly lined up, flaps for cheques, a diary, two pens and a pencil. But my favourite item in this cornucopia is the spirit swab. I still steal a bit to remove my nail enamel even though it makes my nails brittle and is less effective than my nail paint remover.

Whether it was circumstances, or practical choices or objective ruling out, but I ended up being an Engineer, and now an MBA. Not that I have any regrets, but I guess the kid still wants to have some association with Medicine. I guess that's why I gloat with my half-ass understanding of medical terms, the 'Compounder' in me always has some advice to give my friends when they fall sick, I always have a ready supply of basic medicines with me whether I'm travelling or not and yes, anything related remotely to the profession engrosses me.

So the next time I rant out that I'm "Hypoglycemic", it just means I'm hungry, or if I call someone "alopecic" it means that that someone is bald. Kindly ignore. I'm not trying to show off, I'm just talking like they talk at home :)

Dreaded Feb

It started off with a small spark somewhere. They must've just thought of it as a brand new line extension. It worked for them. But it also led to increased suicide rates at this time of the year. A decade ago, no one knew about the dire necessity to go to a shop flooding with trinkets, teddy bears, giant tigers, cute pandas stuffed scarily, cards for every occasion from constipation to diarrhea, and buying some useless 'item' worth 10 bucks for 80 and doling it out for someone special as they call it, with more sap drooling from the corners of their mouths. But now it's quite ubiquitous. Rather, it's more like a ritual. Now it's tradition. It's as historical as Christmas.

Well, historical it certainly is. When I was a teenager and this fad was just kicking in, an elite group of the erudite were bestowing us with their presence at home for dinner. They laughed about it and told us the real story of St. Valentine. (I'm not gonna tell you, research on your own - Wiki/Google). It had nothing to do with what it has been made to mean today by the gift shops and the greeting card companies. But little did they know, that the bug was for the masses. The bug to feel wanted, to feel special, to feel worth spending money for.

So now that almost everyone except the fanatics and the extremists have warmed up to the idea, it is high time we acknowledge it whether we like it or not. It's not just cynics who happen to be single at this fateful time of the year criticize the concept. Even when one is in a relationship, it's more of an obligation to 'show' your LOWE. Some times, you may even think that it's just another day and not do anything at all just so you are the cooler lot and above the 'lame' crowd. Face it, you just wanna save money :).

The tumour's getting bigger though and pressing on the optic nerve. It has stretched to a week now, with Rose Day and Propose Day and Sneeze Day and what not. I mean, get a life people. Only because you get spam from a multi-million dollar greeting/gift churning company compelling you to do something on that 'day' else all hell breaks loose on you, you don't have to comply.

It's a good industry though. Flowers, roses to be precise, sold at double the usual price, cards, teddy bears, goldfish, pets, diamond jewellry, watches, movie tickets, dinners at restaurants, parties and bashes, hotels and B&Bs, resorts, spas.. are all milking out of this one notion. The notion of being with someone.