Me & Dr House

I must be the only doc in my hospital who’s so crazy about old TV serials and sitcoms. Nearly every night that I’ve had free from work last year, I’ve ended up having my 5 star dinner ( rice, dal and veggies in a tiffin box ) while watching ‘acquired’ TV serials on my laptop. Thus, while last year was spent completing SCRUBS & SUPERNATURAL, this year I’ve gone on to one of my oldest TV serial memories ( STAR TREK – THE NEXT GENERATION ) and two of my favourite onscreen nutcases.. HOUSE & MONK. But I guess it’s really HOUSE that’s relevant to this post.

For those of you who don’t follow the serial, HOUSE is this brilliant concept of a megalomaniac doctor who knows how to get on everyone’s bad side with his razor sharp tongue, but eventually comes up with the right diagnosis.

How am I related to HOUSE ? Well, my dear, this is where this post really starts. You see, most of the qualities I pursue in life, I seek from flawed TV characters, rather than perfect real life geniuses. For example, I aim for the wit of Hawkeye ( Alan Alda in MASH ), the facial expressions of Jim Carrey from ACE VENTURA, the wisdom of hindsight of Kevin(the protagonist from Wonder Years ), the beefcake physique of Arnold  from Terminator 2 and the romantic conquests of Joey from FRIENDS. Moral values? What the dickens is that ???

Of course, God in his infinite wisdom chooses to play with me when I give him my choices. Thus, 28 years into life, I find myself bestowed with Eddie Murphy’s body from the Nutty Professor( not to mention his appetite ),  the sense of humour of the HULK ( HULK SMASH.. Tee hee hee ), the facial expressions of Chandrachur Singh and oh, how can I forget ( God actually got one of the characters right.. almost )– the sex life of Arnie  from Terminator 2. Way to go, big Guy. On your damn hearing aid next time !!!

Without digressing any further, I’ll get to the point. I also wanted the clinical genius of House. I would have killed for his life saving skills. Again, God was playing ring-a-ring-a-roses when he should have been listening. So instead, I now find myself having got an attribute of House I’d much rather not have. 

His painful limp.

You see, I’m one of those doctors who’s more prone to ignore symptoms when they involve me. I may have spotted it in others as patients but in myself, there’s a veil covering my eyes. So when my leg started paining after I’d fallen on it ( all 90 hunky kilos of me ), I just started popping the appropriate pain pills. The odd fever too was easily smothered. And then, two months later, this week – the pain increased tenfold. Suddenly, I was carrying my leg around rather than vice versa. A belated MRI/XRAY/CT SCAN revealed I had sacroiliitis. Which, believe me, really isn’t as cute as it sounds.

The ortho docs tell me I have restricted external rotation of the hip. In humanese, that means I have a major OW-OW-OUCHy whenever I walk, roll over in my sleep, try to get out of bed or turn around. It also means I will not be taking part in this year’s English Premier League. Guess Ronaldo’ll have to save Manchester’s ass without me.

Having a limp isn’t always a bad thing, mind you. A limp looks good actually on some people. Football players use it as a sign of machismo ( Yeah baby... that’s right. I’m allowed on the field. No sitting in the benches for me, honey. ) I hear women find it a real turn on in war veterans. ( The fact that the ex-fighter plane pilot got the limp falling over his kid’s tricycle nobody mentions ). A limp makes these people look like they’ve been ‘injured in the course of duty’. It makes them MEN OF ACTION.

Of course, then there’s my kind of limp. The one with the weird facial expressions and the slow sliding of the leg, which suggests I’m wearing Jockey shorts that are two sizes two small for me. While a Salman Khan limp is reminiscent of a wounded tiger defending his ladylove, my limp evokes images of a snail plodding through the rain carrying his house and cable on his back.

Of course, it doesn’t annoy everyone. For example, the dog with the limp outside my college campus suddenly wags her tail when she sees me. She even walked beside me for awhile before deciding I’m too slow for her and running ahead on her 3 and a half good legs. I don’t mind. I was just too busy trying to see how she runs so fast that way. If nothing else works, after all, I’m gonna have to walk on all four limbs too, right ?

Anyway, since work policy is quite clear ( COMMANDMENT NO.420 – THOU SHALT NOT REST LEST THOU IS DEAD. NOT ILL, NOT BLEEDING, NOT DYING, BUT CLINICALLY DEAD. ), I’m making the best of a bad situation presently. I’m putting a positive spin on it for my future marriage resume. Here’s what I’ve got so far. The bracket is what’s really true. That’s just for you guys cause you’re mah buddies... it’ll be edited out of the final paragraph –

28 year young ( old.. visibly wrinkled and balding ),

handsome ( in dim light and dark alleys ) , well built 6 pack body ( double barrel belly,bilateral love handles and twin cheek butts make 6 , right )

stands out in a crowd ( because of ANNOYING ‘FROG TOUCHING TOES’ LIMP... see how I added it into the resume.. tada !!! )

doctor ( yet to be debarred.. am safe for now because noone’s crazy enough to give me a case yet) ,

financially sound ( my daddy sends me pocket money every month, like every other 28 year old doctor !! )

seeks ( craves, lusts )

alliance ( me, you, bed, oooga booga )

with like-minded ( you, me, bed, oooga booga )

simple-minded ( must believe I’m the centre of the Universe, which includes the ultimate sacrifice of womankind – giving me control of the TV remote. )

homely girl (Kim Kardashian kinda homely girl !!! )

Profession no bar ( though experience in pole-dancing is  a welcome bonus )

Religion no bar ( we can eat at everyone’s festival parties without prejudice )

No Dowry ( just daddy’s bank account numbers.. we’ll split it 50-50. )

For further details, contact : humblepiousdoc @godsfavourite.com or call 998xxx2367 ( hornymonkeyinheat @growl.com or 888-XXX- STUDMUFFIN )

I have a good chance of getting married soon, don’t you think? Ya, me too. Anyway, till my bride comes calling, I’m left seeking the diagnosis to the cause of my sucky-iliitis... looking through the possibilities is like looking through a regular episode of House with a lot of far fetched rare options. Let’s see how it turns out. Till then, I have only this to say -

Juliet.. O sweet Juliet, where art thou ? Send me not an sms, nor sting me with your sweet voice. For it is the age of MMS and my GPRS mobile awaits yer 'fine' pictures, lassie.

Shakespeare would be so proud of me.