Erm, emergency....

The throbbing pain is underlined by the strange bump in my forearm strongly suggesting a broken bone. A few discreet yet firm pokes around the area hurt but not like the hell a broken bone is supposed to imply. But then, I notice the middle bit of my middle finger has turned a very fetching blue…. Hmmm, this calls for professional intervention and a trip to the emergency room at the Lilavati makes an appearance on the agenda. We hover around a nearly empty room and I’m waved towards a chair which I decline. Apparently, it wasn’t a polite gesture but my initiation to the casualty team and the male nurse, secure in his masculinity in hot pink scrubs smiling insists the chair is for me. I grudgingly sit down to have my BP and pulse checked feeling more than just a tad foolish for rocking up to a place of serious injuries and trauma (yep, waaay to many American TV dramas) and display my slightly crooked arm furtively explaining that I hit it and it went wonky and my fingers now also turning blue. The young doctor demands explanations, oblivious to my embarrassment and I mumble something about hitting him. Naturally, young as he might be, his hearing seems to be somewhat impaired and he loudly asks, “What happened? How did it happen?”. I try to keep my sheepishness at bay and repeat myself a few decibels higher, “I was hitting him”. Shocked eyes swivel to the him in question, who hastens to add with arms flailing in defensive head protecting position, that’s all he was doing at the time. The doctor investigates and sends off the object of my wrath to pay for x-rays and instructions the nurse to inject me with something (painkiller, I assume?). Naturally, a simple jab in the arm would hardly be in keeping with the theme of the evening and she direly informs me that “It will pain a lot”, so an exposed bum is a necessity. Oddly enough, the woman is spot it – even the jab hurts as she withdraws the needle and I spend most of my time after, rubbing my butt. Monies have been deposited and we’re sent off to the x-ray department. This time it’s a skinny little radiologist that wants to know “How did it happen?". Another won’t look you in the eye mumble, “I was hitting him” elicits a chuckle from the examining doctor (what he was doing at radiology, I do not know) and the skinny chap takes note of my raging mortification and the general hilarity of the accompanying males, restricts himself to a knowing "Aaaah" and ushers me to the radiation chamber. A few minutes of being irradiated, he confirms that nothing is broken and prescribes medication and an ice pack and hands me a large envelope with fetching negatives of my ulna, radial ulna and meta carpals. Fascinating. What better way to spend a Saturday night ?!