Today, I was experiencing one of those rare instances, when life paused for a moment. White light flashed before my eyes. And I went weak in the knees. The broken wrist and the displaced elbow didn't hurt as much as this simple question the young physio threw at me after thoroughly examining my hand. "Are you married?" he vaguely asked.
"Why? does that mean bad news, and what's marriage got to do with my broken hand?" I said to myself. Will I no longer be able to use my hand purposefully in a married life? Or, would he want to apprise the impending consequences to my 'would be' father-in-law, if I were to reveal I was planning to marry. "By any god-damn chance can it affect my reproductive organ?" I felt weak in the knees. Shrugging off vague thoughts and consoling myself that a freak accident like this cant change my life or freak me. Even before I could answer him back as I came to terms with the situation, the physio had twisted my wrist real hard as I heard a cracking sound. I twitched my face in pain thinking what he's about to say next.
"It's alright, nothing to worry, but you may have to screw a rod in your wrist, a small operation and then you can use your hand normally" he bent down to take his seat on the rusted metal chair. Ignoring every single word of what he said, I decided to clear out the question that was bothering me more than the pain, I squeaked "what's the marriage connection." Adjusting his white coat, reminding me probably of his honourable profession, he smiled and described the process with a sigh "distraction techniques you see." By the time I acknowledged the innovative method that he employed on me, he was scratching some code words on a prescription for the little damage he had done on my wrist. "I'll go in for a second opinion" I said, just to confuse him a little this time. He paused without showing any sudden reaction and continued wriggling his pen as if he was still writing the prescription as he looked at me . I smiled and said "about the operation bit, of course."
