If I were some 25 years younger, you know if I were a toddler this would be the apt time for me to fling my arms wildly and thrash on the ground while wailing at the top of my voice. At least thats what I am doing inside.
You see I was planning this holiday. On limited time, limited budget. After much shortlisting, bargaining and nit picking the itinerary was finalised, the agent suitably harassed and in my imaginary calender I was crossing days with a big bold X. You see I havent taken a holiday since last July. In my mind I was already picturing all the wonderful activities I would be doing and all the fun I would be having.
But before that-the work. There were two weeks to go and couple of heavy duty projects on my table. My vendor was also going through a serious identity crisis where its resources were walking into competition’s arms on a daily basis. They were doing their best to tackle the situation, like hiding all this from the client manager-namely me. I guess they expected me to walk into office one day ,not find any resources and draw the conclusion myself.
So the past few weeks were testing on patience and many other leadership qualities they taught me at the B-School. This timely break would have invigorated my spirits, replenished my energy and would have helped me tackle the new challenging opportunities in a creative manner which would have helped me deliver improved benefits with lesser cost (I know people from my office read this blog hence important to make my position clear..heh..heh..)
And then exactly 2 weeks before I was going to leave on a Jet plane, my mother made some watermelon juice which she kept in the freezer. Myself, nothing less than the epitome of a healthy lifestyle and in the pink of health opened the freezer, took the glass out and drank it. Straight out of the freezer. God must have frozen my brain I think at that precise moment.
By the next day I was croaking and the morning after I knew boiling in your blood neednt be reserved for hell. You can experience it right here on earth when your temperature shoots beyond normal. Oral medication were not a patch on the tonsilitis which had enlarged itself and blocked my wind and food pipe, so soon I found myself prostate with multiple prickings for IV tubes to administered.
“One tiny prick”, the nurse would say before jackhammering what seemed like a bed of nails into my arms, and behind. Oh I wished I could be like the toddler on the bed next to mine who was bringing the house down at only the sight of the needle. And the food. Oh my god the food. If I ever look at khichdi or bread again I swear I will vomit all over the place. And I smell of the delicious Dispensary No 5- a heady mixture of paracetamol and antibiotics mixed with human sweat.
Now I dont have a holiday and I have 500 unread mails in my inbox. I still need to eat paracetamol twice a day with antibiotics.
The hardest thing of them all- I have no one else to blame for any of this. God damn it!