Sure enough, within ten seconds, fat-fat tears had welled up. And there I was, missing my father, almost peeing in my college-days salwar, and hating that obnoxious cold jelly applied on the top of my neck. Some hideous node kept showing up on that black and white screen. We must've been in that teeny room for all of 8 mins. Long enough to picture your death scene and people's reactions to finding out you're gone. Shit, I owe Ruch 500 bucks. I think of how devastated my mother would be. What would she wear, come to think of it.. then I mentally skim through her wardrobe and give up. Oh! My brother, poor guy! He would have to take the train back to Delhi, A/C 2 tier or some third class shit. And and live with sympathy from his troops. Heard about your sister man, they'd say. And not own up to always sort of having had a crush on her. Heh. Sigh. I move on. Jump to the thought of my poor unborn babies. They wont' be no babies! All thanks to the cursed results of this deathly ultrasound!
I keep em coming.
Could feel my nose swell.
It's only three minutes into this torturous exercise. I miss my brother. I think of my loves. I think of my colleagues. I think of the most obscure people. I follow that with how silly it is to not get the lead characters in my life to flash before my eyes! Would it matter to my boss if I copped it? He's probably fond of me, but I doubt it's a loss he'll feel at work. Damn. I'm so morbid.
Imagine my relief when they tell me it's nothing serious. No injections, no surgery, no death.
Of course, if I never post again, you know you sorta liked me. ;)