A satirical short story by Atrayee, on hypochondria, full of wit and humour. An exclusive for Different Truths.

Sridharan sat turning the pages of Chennai Times. Bilious in the belly, he needed another cup of coffee. And this time, a little stronger he wanted; milk and decoction in a perfect 1:1 ratio. That’s what he instructed Anupama. Somewhere he read, coffee triggers gastrocolic reflux and makes one poop easily.

“See! Cancers will have bad health this week.” Sridharan paused and then read aloud the complete weekly Zodiac forecast for Cancer. These days, Anupama often minced her docile mould and retorted with her no-nonsense stab. However, early morning was not a suitable time.

“See! Cancers will have bad health this week.” Sridharan paused and then read aloud the complete weekly Zodiac forecast for Cancer. These days, Anupama often minced her docile mould and retorted with her no-nonsense stab. However, early morning was not a suitable time. In fact, today, when she was already pooped out of time, she couldn’t engage Sridharan’s newly developed poop-plight.

Anupama mixed the coffee twice in Sridharan’s dabara-tumbler and sighed. “Coffee Appa…By the way, this is zodiac predictions. You’ve to see for Virgo.”

Sridharan caught on her words and soon swiped his eyes to the small section of Virgo. He didn’t seem to be satisfied. There were only five lines.

“Oho!” Sridharan smirked. “Nothing about health but strategically pointing out the financial crunch.”

“Will you have Dosa or idli Appa?” She asked while finishing her tea.

“Krishnan said neither of them has fibre.” Sridharan pried. His eyes still ran on the Zodiac section. God! He always did that; checking the predictions for all the family members. And apparently, every word inked by that so–called fortuneteller seemed to hover around him. Be it for Aries or Pisces, Sridharan would find out a peculiar cause to worry about. Sometimes it felt as if he shunned everything good. Positive notes were always enshrouded amidst a thick mist of doubts.

“Krishnan said neither of them has fibre.” Sridharan pried. His eyes still ran on the Zodiac section. God! He always did that; checking the predictions for all the family members. And apparently, every word inked by that so-called fortuneteller seemed to hover around him. Be it for Aries or Pisces, Sridharan would find out a peculiar cause to worry about. Sometimes it felt as if he shunned everything good. Positive notes were always enshrouded amidst a thick mist of doubts. Almost impenetrable. Even the slightest hint of something negative would stir a thrill; as if bestowed with the most significant task in the world. Sridharan was in fact hitched up with pessimism. The glass always remained half-empty for him. He never liked to flip the script to have a happy ending. Maybe he could never conceive any of that sort.

“Oats have fibres…But you cannot have that. Gluten allergy.” Anupama sneered. That forced grin of her concern shone brighter than their Swarovski crystal lotus. Krishnan had got it from Singapore. Someone had advised Sridharan to keep a crystal lotus in the northeast direction of the main hall. It was to seemingly eliminate all the negative vibes from the house.

Bah!

However, one thing Anupama was certain about. That crystal lotus of 375 Singapore Dollars was an utter failure to do any good to Sridharan and his outlook towards life.

House, not sure what happened to it. Because it hardly revealed anything apart from crackling plasters or chipped off paint. However, one thing Anupama was certain about. That crystal lotus of 375 Singapore Dollars was an utter failure to do any good to Sridharan and his outlook towards life.

Thinking down the darkest alley was kind of coded within him. And then, there loitered a precious gem in that misanthropic mind. Hypochondria. Sridharan was very close to Moliere’s Argan from The Imaginary Invalid. A modern world’s Argan if rightly put; who would shuffle through various medical websites just to conclude simple heartburn as a heart attack. An ulcer in the mouth and there he would cry it out as oral cancer. A mild headache with an inflamed sinus and he would consult a Neurosurgeon.

Thinking down the darkest alley was kind of coded within him. And then, there loitered a precious gem in that misanthropic mind. Hypochondria. Sridharan was very close to Moliere’s Argan from The Imaginary Invalid. A modern world’s Argan if rightly put; who would shuffle through various medical websites just to conclude simple heartburn as a heart attack.

Doctors had laughed; consoled, had put their best garb to remove his fear but finally, they just gave up.

“I’ve enough stock of Allegra. If rashes come I can manage.” Sridharan justified. “At present, I am more concerned about my stomach.”

“When was the last time you passed motion Appa?” Anupama asked; for it looked impolite as everyone else sat there silent when this old man was repeatedly ranting on his pooping problem.

Krishnan was fixed on his mobile screen. Intentionally perhaps; just to avoid any unnecessary argument. Mother-in-law, on the other hand, pretended to read through her Sai Baba book.

“Yesterday morning,” Sridharan replied.

“What?” Krishnan’s exclamation rent the air. Amazed, everyone glibly looked at each other.

“What! Every day I pass motion twice. One in the morning and once in the evening, both times after a cup coffee…Since three days that routine has gone.”

Anupama preferred to mind her business in the kitchen. Ignoring the conflict of ideologies was the only gimmick she could have to get some peace of mind.

“Breathe in…Breathe out…Breathe in…Breathe out.” She muttered under her breath.

“Only if you do not pass motion for three days at a go, you’ve got a problem.” Mother–in–law finally slithered into the scene. Forty years with Sridharan; she certainly possessed a mind of steel. She perhaps had a mysterious source to draw all that never-weakening patience.

“Only if you do not pass motion for three days at a go, you’ve got a problem.” Mother-in-law finally slithered into the scene. Forty years with Sridharan; she certainly possessed a mind of steel. She perhaps had a mysterious source to draw all that never-weakening patience. And Krishnan? He was silent. If fumes were visible, one could see them coming out of his ears.

“Huh! You’ll not understand Lakshmi.” Sridharan haggled over, for some consolation from her side. It was all stupid and banal to him. He finished his coffee and went to the bathroom, rumbling.

“All this crap after Subramani Uncle got admitted to the hospital. No?” Krishnan sneered. “He is turning mad Amma.”

“Hmm! Leave it Kicha. He’s been like that.” Lakshmi replied. Poor woman; she was always stuck between these two men of her life, who were poles apart. Utter antithesis. Half of her days were spent brokering peace between the two.

***

Well! Krishnan was right on the nose. It was a naked truth in this house. Any news of someone’s sickness and there, Sridharan would jot down the analogies and join the dots for an imaginary predilection. A few years ago, during a reunion meet, Sridharan met one of his friends who suffered from sleep apnoea. A kind of serious sleeping disorder, his whole sleep routine was controlled and monitored by a set of medical instruments. A CPAP mask, a CPAP machine and something called nasal pillow.

Sridharan spent a couple of days in studying the symptoms over the internet. Loud snoring, sleeplessness, breathing through the mouth. Oh God! Everything he had. Sridharan panicked and conferred with Lakshmi, but both mother and son discarded his concern. Another two days passed by and once again, he submitted a new set of symptoms.

Sridharan spent a couple of days in studying the symptoms over the internet. Loud snoring, sleeplessness, breathing through the mouth. Oh God! Everything he had. Sridharan panicked and conferred with Lakshmi, but both mother and son discarded his concern. Another two days passed by and once again, he submitted a new set of symptoms. Dry throat, fatigue, sleeping during the day and a nagging headache.

“Aiyyo Appa! You’ve a blocked nose. Flu symptoms. Put the nasal drop and do some steam inhalation.” Krishnan suggested.

“What kind of block?” Sridharan crimped his forehead. “Tumour? Cancer?”

Lakshmi had to intrude to simmer down her son’s flaring rage. Krishnan was a biologist; a high profile scientist in a research organisation. He used to be patient once upon a time. But over the years, he too had lost his cool-as-a-cucumber demeanour over his father’s repeated transgressions.

Lakshmi had to intrude to simmer down her son’s flaring rage. Krishnan was a biologist; a high profile scientist in a research organisation. He used to be patient once upon a time. But over the years, he too had lost his cool-as-a-cucumber demeanour over his father’s repeated transgressions. Peer pressure, family life, frequent travels to various countries; where did he have time to sell logics to Sridharan? Top it all, his father was someone who was adamant to showcase himself as sick. Guiding a boneheaded research scholar was a far easier job for Krishnan compared to rebuking Sridharan and his follies.

A week ran out and Sridharan badgered every possible person in the neighbourhood with the seriousness of his sleepless nights. Tired and frequently poked by those overly compassionate few, Krishnan took his father to consult their family doctor, Dr. Ganesh. He was their long time cohort and knew Sridharan very well. He had apparently fallen prey to many of his medical mockeries before.

After hearing out his long list of symptoms, Dr. Ganesh pacified Sridharan by suggesting a scan of the nasal passage. However, everything turned out to be a weak sauce for Sridharan once the prescription called for trite sinusitis treatment.

“See! I told you. You just hammed it up.” Krishnan smirked.

Sridharan kept quiet. He did so whenever not contented. Over a couple of days, his blocked nose was cleared and Lakshmi highlighted his no-snoring-sound-sleep pattern. Very often she did, and Sridharan disliked it.

Sridharan kept quiet. He did so whenever not contented. Over a couple of days, his blocked nose was cleared and Lakshmi highlighted his no-snoring-sound-sleep pattern. Very often she did, and Sridharan disliked it.

“I’ll still go for the scan…You all take my health lightly.”

The scan reported a small polyp and a deviated nasal septum. Sridharan was overjoyed. Believable? Yes, indeed. Fatalistic soul, anomalies catered him a kind of pride. However, his excitement petered out again after Dr. Ganesh ignored the whole thing as nothing-to-be-worried about.

“How could he say nothing to worry?” Three days Sridharan spent griping and soon decided to consult a specialist. A somnologist. A never heard before name enticed him further and he booked an appointment. It just took a minute for the doctor to assess Sridharan’s nerves. He was quick to propose a list of expensive diagnostic tests and Sridharan was satisfied. Anything costly and complicated was after all great news medically.

Reports didn’t suggest any major disorder, except for a hint of insomnia. Probably due to his age, the somnologist surmised. Sridharan’s exaggeration was good for business though; both for the CPAP machine dealer and the doctor. A 400USD machine was prescribed like it were mere paracetamol. Sridharan was convinced.

Reports didn’t suggest any major disorder, except for a hint of insomnia. Probably due to his age, the somnologist surmised. Sridharan’s exaggeration was good for business though; both for the CPAP machine dealer and the doctor. A 400USD machine was prescribed like it were mere paracetamol. Sridharan was convinced. More than anything, he was glad that he had a complicated disease to show off.

Krishnan, of course, went for a second opinion and the CPAP machine was declared to be a bigger nightmare than insomnia. CPAP was denied. And gradually, everyone turned vocal about Sridharan’s illness, anxiety disorders and snubbed his regular complaints.

His gluten allergy story rolled out in a different fashion. Once dining in an Italian restaurant, Sridharan ended up the next day covered with mild rashes. Dr. Ganesh thought of it to be a foodborne allergy and prescribed a course of Levocetirizine. Rashes did subside within three days. Nevertheless Sridharan being, well Sridharan, went to an Immunologist for a thorough check-up.

Oops!

The skin test came out with wheals for many food items; including Gluten and Ladies Finger and many more. The immunologist prescribed more of prohibitions than medicines. An anti-allergenic tablet became Sridharan’s lifelong companion. Initially, it didn’t irk him much. He was quite happy to live upon dosa, idli, thayir sadam and all.

The skin test came out with wheals for many food items; including Gluten and Ladies Finger and many more. The immunologist prescribed more of prohibitions than medicines. An anti-allergenic tablet became Sridharan’s lifelong companion. Initially, it didn’t irk him much. He was quite happy to live upon dosa, idli, thayir sadam and all. In fact, those banned veggies never mattered to him. But gradually, he realised that his visit to the immunologist did more harm than any good.

First of all, he wasn’t bedridden to gather any attention. Secondly, some of the prohibitions were hard to ignore. Anupama’s butter paneer didn’t go well with rice or dosa. Krishnan’s yummy pasta with Alfredo sauce had gluten in it. Noodles were shipped out. Above all; his favourite breakfast, bread omelette, turned into a complete NO-NO. Inch by inch; he devised some of the other escape clause based on the spread. And there, Krishnan stood firm to declare his allergy stunt an utter case of HYPOCHONDRIA.

***

Sridharan came out of the bathroom. Distressed. Disturbed. Those twisted eyebrows almost merged with his small flattened potato-like nose.

Sridharan came out of the bathroom. Distressed. Disturbed. Those twisted eyebrows almost merged with his small flattened potato-like nose.

“Nothing…Absolutely nothing Lakshmi!!!”

“Have you taken the laxative what Dr. Ganesh asked you to?” Lakshmi enquired.

“Yes of course… three days I had taken.” Sridharan paused and then smoothened his tone. “Only yesterday night I didn’t have…I shouldn’t be dependent on medicines Lakshmi…What say Anupama?” These days Sridharan avoided his innocuous queries to Krishnan. Son exploited his right to speak the brutal truth, while Anupama would think twice before locking horns.

“But you have to finish the course Appa…Otherwise no use.” Anupama replied as she served the breakfast.

“Three days no improvement…I think I must go to that specialised hospital for the Gastro.” Sridharan said and waited for someone to respond.

“Dr. Ganesh is a gastroenterologist.” Krishnan’s words were bristled.

“Still…second opinion is better. And I should go for a thorough check-up.” Sridharan was quick and as the usual firm.

None wished to break their heads on this poppycock anymore. Krishnan moved out and Lakshmi agreed to join him this time. Because the last time the father-son duo locked horns, two days were washed away in just bickering.

None wished to break their heads on this poppycock anymore. Krishnan moved out and Lakshmi agreed to join him this time. Because the last time the father-son duo locked horns, two days were washed away in just bickering.

The appointment was booked. And the very next day Sridharan was admitted in the hospital for all the tests. Ranging from an Endoscopy to Colonoscopy. Even a Sigmoidoscopy was performed, as Sridharan presumed to have a tumour which was blocking his poop. Just like he heard about his cousin, Subramani. Ha! Ha! Ha!

Admission as an in-patient sufficed the insurance claim and also doctors and nurses seemed to take more care for the in-patients. The latter being Sridharan’s judgement.

Few tests were done and another set was scheduled for the next day. Lakshmi was sent home, as no attendant was allowed for diagnostic tests. It was all the more better. Sridharan got a free tongue to talk about his other ailments. Insomnia, allergy, diabetes and whatnot. As instructed by the doctor, he was given a mild sedative to alleviate the pain of endoscopy.

Few tests were done and another set was scheduled for the next day. Lakshmi was sent home, as no attendant was allowed for diagnostic tests. It was all the more better. Sridharan got a free tongue to talk about his other ailments. Insomnia, allergy, diabetes and whatnot. As instructed by the doctor, he was given a mild sedative to alleviate the pain of endoscopy.

***

“Who’s that?” Sridharan slurred. A man, well-built, dressed in all black, stood in front of the next bed. He was going through the logbook of the other patient.

“I am not for you…You sleep.” The man replied and tapped something on his tab.

“Doctors do not wear black.”

“I am not a doctor dude.” The man smirked. “I am Yamraj.”

“Aiyyo…Sridhara sridhara srinivasa srinidhi srinitabaha sheegara sheegara shreya srimanloka traya shraya.” Sridharan started chanting. Trembling in fear; he perhaps recited the whole Vishnu-sahastranamam in one breath.

Yamraj walked to Sridharan. He stood and glared at him. “I’m not a ghost to get scared with your recitation.”

“Have you come to take me?” Sridharan quivered.

“Ufff! Nooo.” Yamraj exclaimed. “I came to take him…But…”

“But what?” Sridharan asked and again reeled back to his chants.

“Doctors have done a good job…He can pull through another five years.” Yamraj paused for a second. “Taking him now would be an insult to the whole medical fraternity.” He sighed and changed the death date of that patient in his tab.

“Doctors have done a good job…He can pull through another five years.” Yamraj paused for a second. “Taking him now would be an insult to the whole medical fraternity.” He sighed and changed the death date of that patient in his tab.

Sridharan gulped down his fear and whispered. “Am I going to die? Today?”

“What’s your name?” Yamraj asked. Casually. Sridharan couldn’t utter a word. Yamraj read the nurse’s chart. “Sridharan Ramaiya.” He scrolled down on his tab. “Nope.”

“I’ve a tumour in my intestine…I think. I’ve an allergy. I’ve sleep apnoea…And I think I’ve a severe complication inside my stomach which is not letting me to…poop.” Sridharan whispered the last word.

“I’ve a tumour in my intestine…I think. I’ve an allergy. I’ve sleep apnoea…And I think I’ve a severe complication inside my stomach which is not letting me to…poop.” Sridharan whispered the last word.

Yamraj looked at him, his eyebrows raised in utter disgust. He checked on the tab again.

“I think this stored poop only will kill me…I’ll die today. Nobody cares for me.”

“Your lifestyle is horrible. Metabolism is non-existent…Just having a bout of constipation…That’s it… YOU’LL NOT DIE.” Yamraj sighed.

Out of the blue, a thick layer of white mist busted in. Sridharan couldn’t see anything. Neither the next patient nor that Yamraj. Not even the dividing curtain. Sridharan couldn’t breathe. He felt something like a big rock burrowing his throat.

GASP!!!

Sridharan woke up. Drenched in sweat, panting with fear he pressed the alarm switch. A nurse came in running.

Sridharan woke up. Drenched in sweat, panting with fear he pressed the alarm switch. A nurse came in running.

“I think I’m getting a heart attack.” Sridharan panted.

The nurse started checking the parameters. Sridharan felt something poking under his thigh. It was a small white chit with something inscribed; and a smiley. Sridharan put on his spectacles.

Black ink; beautiful cursive font. It read: P.S. You’ll Not Die J

Photo from the Internet