Attempting Bryn Donovan’s 100 Prompts to write about yourself, again, because I can’t seem to sit and write a nice blog post about anything because at this point, everything seems worthless. This is prompt number 47, picked at random.
Describe an experience at a doctor’s office, dentist’s or at the hospital.
Touch wood, I’ve been very lucky health-wise. Apart from this one time when I was barely a year old and suffered with fever so high that I needed to be hospitalized, I was never in the hospital. I don’t worry about my health too much because if you don’t have a terminal illness, I don’t think it’s worth fretting about. Every time anybody in the family has a slight ailment, or a little health issue, like cold, or a rash or something, we went our Homeopath in Ashoka Pillar, in Jayanagar. It was always a delight to go to the doctor here because his house/office was a very calming place to be.
Outside is a small garden and a swing set. There are potted plants all around house, on the widow sills. There is also a small cement pond, in a very curly shape that still fascinates me. Inside the waiting room, it is all red oxide floors that seem to remain cool and neutral no matter what the weather was outside. It could be snowing out there and the inside would still be cozy enough to walk without socks and slippers on.
The waiting room is part of the main office that’s been divided by those floor-to-ceiling plastic walls that are also quite sound-proof. The chairs in the waiting room are wood or cane with ancient pillows that are rock hard but not uncomfortable because you’re never seated for so long. Inside the doctor’s office, it feels like you’ve been transported to the 50’s. There’s a large, dark brown, solid wooden desk that feels so ancient because you can feel its power. You can feel how old and strong and powerful that desk is. It feels stable and reassuring and steady, like the person you trust most with your life. Pair that with a high-backed, equally strong and dark wooden chair, I bet there’s no other dynamic duo.
The walls are bare and pale green. Behind the chair, high up, is a poster, from a calendar, maybe, from 1996, of a bronze Buddha. Like the chair and the desk, it also feels powerful but equally calming. God knows how long I’ve stared at that face. There’s a usual cupboard and a couple of plastic chairs for the patients and a weighing machine. We’ve never met another weighing machine as accurate and trusted as this one. Even if we had previously only checked our weight a few days ago, there’s something reassuring about that weighing machine.
Our doctor himself looks ancient. We’ve been going to him since I was born, and he’s only gotten skinnier and more haggard looking and paler. His stutter has definitely improved. When he asks questions, he never passes judgement. Some doctors are too judgy. When you say you’ve eaten this-and-this, they look at you like, Why? Don’t you know how dangerous that is for your health? You’ll not live long if you keep eating like this. But he never looks like that. He just asks more questions and then he disappears to another room, and gets us medicine. The medicine is usually white and sweet. They don’t taste like medicine and because we say “the quality of his hands are great”, our illnesses don’t come back for a year. When I had severe cough, thanks to allergy and small dust particles about 3 years ago, he gave me medicine that had me up and going in less than a week. My strength came back and I felt like myself again. Or before that, when I was in 6th standard and had sever acne all over my face and back thanks to puberty, his medicine drove it away and I’ve not had it since.
I wonder if he gives medicine for mental health issues. Because I’m sure he’ll help a lot of people with his calming office itself.