Mood Swings
I hadn’t smoked a cigarette all day. I thought I could quit smoking just like that. Again. I mean I’ve tried quitting before and failed. This time was no different. It was Eid day, Eid-ul-Azha, the meaty Eid — and I had been having mood swings.
First, I had an argument with my dad when we was telling my brother to hurry up and go to my uncle’s for the qurbani. Then later in the day I had an argument with my mom when I said I wanna buy her a new set of glasses. She started fussing about me not saving enough and that even if I buy her that new set of glasses, she should be coming with me. I couldn’t take it so I went to my room and shut the door behind me — rather loudly too. It was all so stupid, I know.
Our obnoxious door bell rang, I hurried out of my room to attend the door. I took a peek in the kitchen and saw that my mom was bleeding all over a kitchen cloth. She had accidentally cut herself with a sharp knife while trying to remove fat from the meat. I started panicking, seeing how much she was bleeding and ran to ask my dad to help mom while I went to see who was on the door.
This is where I glide over my embarrassing panicky moments and go straight to when I rushed mom to the hospital.
It was rather quiet at the hospital, which is always a good thing, but I could still see an ambulance stopping outside of the Emergency and patients being moved around on gurneys. The CMO directed us to the surgical wing where a young doctor was lazily sitting in her chair, chatting up her colleague.
The doc took a look at my mom’s finger, which hadn’t stopped bleeding by the way, probably because of that blood thinning med she takes to keep her cholesterol levels in check; old age is a bummer. As the young doc was writing up the prescription, she was telling us that we had to go to the next room for stitches. My mom didn’t want stitches.
The doc looked up at my mom with a mild expression of mock disbelief, “Auntie, why don’t you want stitches?”.
“Because stitches mean that she won’t be able to get back to the whole meat business in her full working capacity.”, I intervened with a sprinkle of sarcasm in my tone, directed at my mom of course.
“Auntie, it’s either the stitches or a bloody meal. You wouldn’t want that, would you?”. The doc continued with the prescription.
In the end, my mom ended up not getting any stitches on account of the wound not being very deep.
The reason I decided to write this piece was not to tell you this anecdote, rather it was something like this: in that visit to the hospital, I garnered huge praise for the doctors and medical staff who were present there to serve the medical needs of patients on Eid day. They could have been at their homes with their families, barbecuing and making mutton chops or out with friends, partying.
I want to extend my praise to all the medical community around the world, who makes itself available on Christmases, Easters, Diwalis, Hanukkahs, Eids, Days of the Dead and all and any public or religious commemorations and holidays.
One world, one soul!
