The Daily Journal of an Elephant
0630: Woken up by the lorries thundering past my bedroom window. Wondered, for the hundredth time, whatever happened to the quiet locality this used to be.
0634: Poked V awake.
0635: Went back to sleep myself, with the quiet satisfaction that comes of a job well done.
0730: Disturbed by phone alarm. Turned it off and went back to sleep.
0757: Woke up in a panic and reminded V-the-sleepy I needed to be bathed and generally attended to, before he could do his morning stuff. (Which is why the alarm had been set for half an hour ago.)
0830: Bathed. Feeling clean and fresh I contemplated the morning mug of milk. V went off for the morning nose-bag.
0900: V set off for work, casting one last, longing look at the inviting bed.
1000: Having done with breakfast, I fell asleep.
1353: Woke up and considered calling for lunch.
1415: Called for lunch. Was served.
1500: Done with lunch, settled down for a spot of surfing. Got nothing done, since all I did was hop around Orkut.
1813: Wondered what happened to the afternoon. Decided to lie down for a while.
1830: Surfed the net, flicked over various tv channels. Read some. Contemplated my room. Decided contemplation is not the road to nirvana, not for me.
2035: V came home so I got my first kicks of the day by poking fun at him. A girl needs some occupation.
That, more or less, is how my life has settled down. The story is as follows:
A week after I left my job, my mum (who had come down, if you remember) took me to the family gynaecologist. That traumatic interview led to me being booted out of my dear little flat and being installed in the family vault indefinitely. I was ordered strict bed-rest (not even a visit to the bathroom, I ask you!) and that meant Mum having to stay back here in
V shuttled back and forth between here and the flat for many weeks, but eventually gave up and brought his beloved Mac over and now is more or less an inmate of the
I threw a million tantrums, endured one horror of an ayah after another and wondered miserably if it wasn’t really possible to kill oneself by willing it. Because, with the best will in the world, I was still alive each morning and that meant yet another horrible day in bed.
In other words, I was miserable and gave nobody else any peace either. Hah!
Ok, you can mop up your eyes now, though. Now it’s a bit better. I have a cable tv connection, my laptop’s (finally!) on the broadband and I’ve decided that enough is enough, if I wish to sit up I jolly well will sit up. I still feel like an elephant, but it bothers me less.
Things are due to change at the end of this month, but more on that later. In the meantime, if anybody wants to know more about placenta previa, ask me! I have had a thoroughly nasty time purely because most docs are too busy covering their own butts to think of their patients’ comforts (which has much to do with their general well-being, thanks, Doc) and am perfectly willing to help another poor soul escape the myths and superstitions. Do you know, after 2 months of being told that I had a life-threatening condition, I only found out last week that till the 28th week of pregnancy (which I haven’t yet reached) one can’t even say with any degree of certainty that it is indeed a case of placenta previa or not!
I end in indignation but will be back with more. The 'Journal' above was to reassure all the people who've been worrying over misleading reports of my hospitalisation etc. I'm fine and in perfect health, barring the boredom. So not to worry, folks.