I got bitten by a dog 3 days back, who is flexing his Pterygoids thanks to the kind hearted souls of PGIMS Girls Hostel who throw him scraps with unfailing regularity. Trouble is, this testosterone racked canine mostly has a field day in our hostel premises doing this with no one to stop him post Maneka Gandhi's campaign to sterilize animals and not kill them. Although for me, this happened as a consequence of trying to help a Pathology Co-PostGraduate's mother with her over weighted water jugs when I accidentally stepped on God knows what part of his body. At least as much as the others have told me, he bites unprovoked. But for me, I provoked him. He spun around with an injured ego tantamounting to anger and snipped my Gastrocnemius, and mildly abrading the other part of my calf as would befit a set of canines and set of incisors his size. I had 2 big sets of briuses and one canine that dug deep. Thank god my Olive 'war dress' saved me further injury.
It was not the pain, or the bite marks. It was the apprehension. The dog is semi rabid. I am almost as scared about it as one would normally expect to be post needle stick with a seropositive. More trouble is the set of ATS and the Anti Rabies Vaccine that came after it ( the immunization sister first gave the rabies shot on my left arm, the ATS shot in my right, and solemnly declared.."your arm is gonna hurt for 2 days doc..ATS hurts". I would have taken it in my butt if she could be a little early..). Plus my viral fever or whatever it was along with the snot came up to clog my sense of smell and balance badly. I was having a major headache and my Professor was the dearest person on earth to see beyond my silence that I was not feeling well ( my wellness quotient inversely proportional to my temper and my voice in the ward, as well as the purpose of my walk, if not necessarily the pace of it). I was given a off post afternoon round on Emergency day, post Post Emergency day and Post Emergency Night. I will be very grateful to Prof H for this. We may work endlessly but he knows. And he gives us the room. We don't work like dogs; literally, like some of my Co-Pgs are having to do. A good atmosphere can pummel or plummet the ergonomic quotient in an institute like a hospital, where efficiency and emotions are the key words for success. And I know this because unlike P, my co-PG who is either summarily dismissed or looked upon with sympathy, I am looked upon with either fun, or amusement, or appraisal. I want to insist that despite my sense of humor I am a very serious person. But seems no one is intrested to understand that I always appreciate that I should have a sense of gravity about me. Guess I cant have that. People just end up seeing me as angry and benign. I want to be snaky and diplomatic. But circumstances don't allow me. I laugh too much. And I still take them to my eyes. Kept me alive through everything. and I was granted 15 odd hours of full recovery, during which I saw Shutter Island, read Revolutionary Road and slept and slept and woke up not worrying about going to ward for once.
In any case, Prof H finally came to know of my Curious Encounter with the Dog and called up Badam Singh, the Chief Security Officer ( name preceding reputation or vice versa I do not know, as you will know later) and he readily agreed to take this dog to his destiny ( not revealing what it is...) I was happy, especially after my written complaint was met with the Matron deciding that the dog would not be found inside the hostel ( it has bitten me, my SR, Dr J, Dr P, and three or four others outside the hostel and in the hostel premises in every instance). I reiterated that fact. To no avail. The female sweepers were summoned and told to find the dog wherever it was and to drive it outside the hostel. They all went about in every directions. I went to the washroom beside the Matron's office and he lay there, in all his glory, casually inspecting me. I walked back and told the Matron the dog was right under her nose. To this she summoned the nearest sweepress who was running about nearby, handed her a bed post and asked her to drive the dog out of the hostel. And she did..the dog nimbled along out of one hostel into another of the five. My written request of a 'potential health hazard, subsequent to its repeated unprovoked attacks on the inmates of the hostel' had this fate.
Badam Singh's goons ( read our ablest security officers) made a fatal mistake. Whereas they come with the unfailing regularity and timing of the Police in Bollywood movies when doctors call them in an hour of need, they rose to precrime levels in Rohtak's Minority Report and huddled up few of our own. Having beaten up the Class Three workers is like chugging a Lead ball up the sewage system of the Hospital and the stench was smelled almost immediately. To add to this, like a true captain of the sinking ship, Badam Singh did not back down from his co-worker's stance and went on insisting that the 3rd Class workers were at fault. And as a result of this all Class 3 and Class 4 workers of our hospital are on strike. Badam Singh's days are supposedly counted. We have no water, no reports, no ECGs and no support.
I met my old canine friend again as I walked back to the hostel and it was standing jaw pointing to air. His other cowardly-peppered-neither-here-nor-there female bitches stood flanking him. They smelled the air and casually turned their behinds to me to show what they had done to my written complaint, my Professor's request, the bedpost chase, and Badam Singh's cutting the ticket for them. Basically this time, they ignored me.I walked back to my room with my tail between my legs. I can only pray they find people like me so insignificant as to forget our existence and we will be ever willing to step on their shit and not complain to anyone, give them food before we take ours, and say amen every time we are bitten by them.
And tomorrow is time for the second shot of Equirab. ( 4 doses remaining)
No comments:
Post a Comment