March 18, 2006

Here I am sitting in sweat for my last hour in India. Thank goodness I stored a change of knickers in my backpack. At the risk of future exploitation for this moment of truth I’ll let you all in on something. I can’t say no. Except for when the cabbie asked if he could drop off his bro on the way to the airport. But that was easy. When food is involved my answer is always a resounding yes. There it is. For the sake of a story I’m spilling the beans.

Instead of packing my last night, thereby making my Saturday morning available for last minute details, I ate with a doctor and his family. This is in no way a complaint. Not only was the cuisine delicious but the opportunity to spend time with a family was refreshing. One of my expectations for this trip was to develop relationships that would open windows to view life in India. I’ve had the pleasure of doing so by creating friendships with those around me here. So when I was asked to bring back pictures for the younger brother that lives in Salt Lake City, I didn’t hesitate to agree. Besides, this becomes another chance to meet new people and create bridges. Anyway, I gorged myself because I can never say no to seconds, or thirds, and waddled my way back home. That’s when I got the call from a former intern telling me that our mutual friend was having a birthday party and would like to see me before I left. So off I went. The party consisted of family and friends at a restaurant/lounge that his family rented out. This precipitated that I eat more, and not wanting to be an ungrateful guest I cleaned my plate. So I stayed out with the night owls till the cows came home and left my packing until this morning. This left me little time to get everything ready. Typical me.

For fun this time I want to pass along some of the funnier things I’ve heard and seen while sitting with doctors.

“Pharmaceutical companies would sell a comb to a bald man”

“Give me something good because she has exams coming up you know.” (A mother telling the doc to fill a prescription for antibiotics for her daughter with a cold)

“So doc, I don’t think it’s piles (aka hemorrhoids). It feels different.” patient
“No don’t worry, it’s not piles.” Doc
“So, what was it the guy had?” me about five minutes later
“Oh . . . it was just piles.” Doc

For all my fans out there—and when I say fans I mean you Mom—don’t worry, even though the Indian Adventure is ending as I write, the blog will continue. I still intend to share the rest of the journey home.