Superficial

Did it hurt?

Is it permanent?

What's that supposed to mean?

Why'd you get it done?

Can doctors have them?

Why?!

My obsession with "Anal People"

Worry not, this isn't a rant about how I like to deal with difficult people, I don't! It just hit me yesterday when I was going through my posts from August, that I've been using this label for my posts a lot. So, what's changed?

Have I just become unluckier with my colleagues? Am I an "Anal People" magnet? Do Aliens really exist? Have I grown spiteful & vengeful with time? Who killed Michael Jackson? Is internship turning me miserable?

The answers to these and many more questions will be coming up in future posts. For now, at least, I hope to write a few cheerful posts, get back to those notes I took during surgery & give those ideas some life & of course get back to cartooning. I can't believe I gave up on that mid-way. Maybe it's because I only happen to know how to work Paint on my computer. Photoshop is like a Whipple's to me; I'm eager to try it but don't know shit about it! 

Someone come forward and help poor SS out.

& sorry, but this post will also have to be labelled with... You guessed it!

Life without Treason

Ever so often I come up with a title or phrase that I really like but have nothing to write about. These are usually vague references, not really translating to anything of significance at first glance. But, just to exercise my neurons, I thought maybe following the reverse path could be fun. Here's my story:

Life without treason

It was just another lazy afternoon in the hospital, patients trickling in just when he was about to get out of his seat. He'd lost track of what the patient kept mumbling, letting his pen jot down what his hand thought significant. The past few weeks had been tougher than he had anticipated, the excitement of medicine overshadowed by the bane of paperwork. But, he thought it was good fortune that he had company around him.

Just as the the day swept past, an over-powering urge to meet his old resident overcame him. As he kept walking towards the opposite wing, he slipped in a pool of blood that another intern had spilled while running from the blood bank. He woke up in the Trauma Center with a bad case of nausea and distorted vision. He didn't realize it was the lack of his glasses till someone shoved them onto his face, one lens obviously missing. He looked down upon his leg, seeing way too may rods sticking out of his leg. "Double vision", he thought, "It had to be double vision, so many damn rods!"

He asked the nurse to get the on-call surgeon so he could thank him, & the intern responsible for the blood spill; another blood spill would obviously make the world seem less unfair. His friends came from all their faculties to inquire about his health. They were obviously blind cause they couldn't see the rods, could't read his file. Still he mustered enough air to mumble, "I'm alright". Over the next few days he got terribly bored. "Hospital ceilings must have TVs installed". He asked the nurse to get a novel that lay at the doctor's table. Its title was, 'Life without Treason'

The End