There was no queue. Just a bunch of people huddled haphazardly at the door. The sign next to the doorjamb read 'Male Injection Room'. Everyone was anxious and their eyes were staring inside the room. Like if they looked hard enough the patient might move faster. I took a deep breath and extracted the exact injection material from the assortment of medicine that was issued to me five minutes ago from the karakhanah… sorry the Akzakhaneh (pharmacy). Another nurse, male nurse, turned up and started working the second bench and the siege on the room eased. I was trying to visualize which side of my ass is going to take the brunt of the needle. I thought it was awkward that I might have to ask the nurse. But I was wrong, the standard issue bed was pushed to the wall at the right side of the room. So it's the left side; time to rock and roll. Then the nurse said it's finished. I was like WTF? I haven't even felt the needle tip. This is wrong. This used to be painful. Then I remembered that the last time I was injected was more than 10 years ago…… my muscles 'down there' must have grown tougher. My nerve endings must have become less interested in the job description. I might have become cognitively less disturbed by the pain. There are many reasons I could think of before accusing the nurse of stealing the injection and feigning the whole scene, so that he can sell it later in the black market.
This is the second time this month. I was worried of Bronchitis the first time, but I was reassured that it was merely a 'severe infection in the upper respiratory system'. This time the diagnosis was the same. The Doc kept whining about how important it is for me to stop smoking….. I told him to fuck off and mind his own business (not audibly though). But now that I think of it; he was actually doing nothing but minding his own business. Which is to issue Antibiotics and wish me quick recovery.
I fucking hate antibiotics. It makes me feel lethargic and stupid. Yes. I am one of those who feel stupid when sick. The 'clear mind' becomes disturbed with an overcast of warring white cells, glands, tissues, enzymes and war spoils.
The worst part of it all is having to change my routine. I can't smoke. Not because I give a fuck about the Doc recommendation. But I really can't smoke. One pull from the double-apple Bahrini would feel like a Swiss army knife cutting viciously at my throat.
I didn’t smoke today and I hate it.