Ouch! That hurts…

I have always dreaded the stinging needle that doctors have always enjoyed thrusting into my poor unsuspecting buttock. "Awwwww…" I cried as the needle pierced the skin on my hind end.

"Come on, don't act like a stubborn baby," chided the nurse as she pulled the needle out.

"Aaaaaaaaarrrrrgh!!! That hurt so badly!" I screamed, with tears in my eyes.

"Sh, quiet! Don't you know how to behave in a hospital?" asked the barbarous nurse. "Besides, you are not the only one in the world getting a shot. It's just an injection. Don't act like the world's collapsed on your shoulders!" Then she shoved me aside with a stern, "Move over, I need to change the sheets," and I obeyed, mumbling, "how rude!" under my breath. I hated her. She was totally indifferent to my suffering.

Having been pampered to the core by my doting parents, I was used to making a clamorous fuss over each tiny injury and every trivial illness I went through. And what's more, I was accustomed to being fussed over and treated like a queen. Every time I fell 'sick,' my mom would take a couple of days off and spend time with me, 'nursing' me back to health. And I used to fall 'sick' ever so often as it gave me an opportunity to whine, whimper and get all her attention. My mom's typical "oh, my poor baby" murmurs thrilled me and encouraged me to pretend to be ill even when I wasn't. My dad would shower me with chocolates and my friends would visit me with get-well greetings and flowers. I simply enjoyed every moment of being sick.

But then, things changed. One fine day I found myself beached in the intensive care unit of this disgusting hospital, where no one was allowed except during visiting hours. The discourteous nurse would come every second hour to check on my temperature and pulse. She would poke me with all kinds of needles here and there and force some bitter tonics down my throat before scolding me for being ridiculously fussy. She would leave with a "Sh, don't make noise," order. I would sigh and close my eyes, hoping helplessly that someone would come by to brighten my day.

I tried hard not to look at the man with bandages in the bed next to mine. I closed my eyes tighter and drifted off into the past.

Ever since the age of three, the hospital had been like a second home to me. I was labeled the sick child in the family for having inherited the ailments of both my parents and both sets of grandparents as well. The doctors said most of my congenital health problems were due to the fact that my parents are closely related. Poor eyesight, weak lungs, awful skin, stretch marks all over, cavities in the teeth… the list seems endless. You name it, and I have it! Thanks to the wonderful tradition of sicknesses handed down the generations by my proverbially ill ancestors.

A few years ago, I was down with a weird type of infection. The doctors suggested some blood tests. The tests revealed high sugar content in my blood. I was awed at the concept of being a diabetic at such a young age, and felt very proud. "Nothing to worry," said our family doctor, looking at me. "No chocolates or sweets from now on, and you should be fine soon." No chocolates? I groaned. So much for having felt proud just a moment ago!

I curiously asked the doctor how I could have got diabetes and he replied, "You probably inherited your grandma's genes."

I was perplexed. "But doctor, my grandma does not wear jeans," I said innocently, much to the amusement of everyone around. Even today, my cousins pull my leg over the 'jeans' issue.

On another occasion, I was down with a new type of condition termed as stephylococcial infection. My left foot was swollen like a balloon and I had red patches all over both my legs. It was not particularly painful, but I was quite a sight. The patches went on increasing and looked rather repulsive. The doctor said that the only possible cure was to take a double dose of ampicillin injection twice a day for 5 days. I was scared beyond death. Injections? That too TWO each day?? "NO!!!!" I yelled. I screamed and hooted, but to no avail. I was subjected to the torturous treatment for five whole days, after which the infection subsided and the swelling reduced. But I was left with a sore butt, with needle marks all over. L

Come November, and I would invariably end up in the hospital with wheezing and cough. Nice excuse for bunking college, though. I got a lot of friends while I was in hospital and most of the doctors and staff nurses were very sweet. This was my first experience with such a nasty nurse.

I woke up with a start. She was standing there, peering over me, frowning. "Your temperature doesn't seem to be reducing," she said.

"Hmm. Looks like it's in love with me," I quipped.

"Very funny," she snapped, and took a syringe out.

"No… No… Please don't give me an injection again," I pleaded.

"Silly girl, you'll never get cured if you are so fussy. Come on, now give me a glimpse of your lovely butt," she said brusquely.

I slowly turned on my side so she could assault my 'lovely butt' with the biting needle. I clenched my teeth as the needle went in. I was determined not to create another scene. In an attempt to control myself, I held my breath a trifle too long and lo! I fainted!

The next thing I knew, the duty doctor's kind face was looming over me as I came to. "How do you feel now, honey?" he asked sweetly.

"Oh, I'm ok…" I muttered weakly.

"Would you care to tell me what happened," the doctor inquired.

"Well…" I began, and narrated how it all happened. The doctor laughed and said, "Don't worry sweetie! We'll replace the nurse on call. And hey, you can scream. No hassles. The patients around you have grown used to your shouts. They were worried about you when you didn't scream at 3 p.m." I was embarrassed beyond words. I could feel my ears turning red, another trait I have inherited from my mom. The doctor casually patted me on my back and left.

Two days later, I was discharged. I was very delighted to be out of the hospital. I looked at the hospital building with a smirk, and started humming a tune. "No more injections for a long, long time," I sang as I jumped around. Just then, I slipped and crashed to the ground with a loud thud. I literally saw stars. Before I knew what was happening, someone hoisted me on to a wheel chair and took me straight back into the hospital.

"Doctor, injury case. Needs a TT injection," I heard him say.