White Sheets

Anticipation, could that be an emotion? Whatever, it ate in to my heart, liver, kidneys etc for the past four days when I was lying in the hospital bed. I was not really anticipating to be spared the bed or go out and breath the fresh air. I was rather anticipating at six hour intervals to be injected a dose of painful nerve crunching penicillin, whose pain though was momentary, was still dreaded. Never before was my life segmented to four equally likely divided quanta of time round the clock.

Whats it like, well you get waken up at six in the morning by the gentle (gentle till the moment I realize whats up to happen) murmur of the white polythene bag. The nurses kept the medicines in the polythene bag and carried it to the room of the patients as and when required. They get in to action in no time. Tearing of the wrap from the disposable syringe, drawing out the saline solution mixing it with the penicillin ampule and drawing it out in three four syringes. The three four minutes they take to get ready always felt like a lifetime to me. I could pick out the seconds from those four minutes one by one. The tension would be so palpable in the air I can cut it with a blunt knife. Of course yes all this is evident to me and only me. A train of emotions would pass through my mind. A consistent train, consistent because the same set of thoughts passed through me every time.

The first thought that ever come across would be to break of from the bed and go away. I always believed lack of fresh air is contravening my recuperation efforts and even the slightest exposure will set me all right. Incidentally since I was sensible enough to at least guess if not fully phantom the complete implications and intricacies of the medical science, and have somehow conceived the notation that life may not be as easier I think with a malfunctioning kidney and inflated liver, I would just comply. Doctors have done a good job educating me on whats wrong with my body.

The other thought is of absolute determination in which I decide I would lay still and let the nurse do her job whatever the pain involved is. Hardly two seconds in to the injection my resolution will disappear in to thin air. I'll gasp, wallow and convolute with pain, but with the best effort of hide it from the nurse at work. In pain at the mercy of a woman? I just cease to be a misogynist.

Not sure if they have seen me wither me in the bed. I had no qualms about hiding it inadvertently making my misery more visible.Heavily built guy getting anxious of and fretting about just an injection. Their professional decorum should have stopped them short of mocking me.