Aquatic Antics
“Ma,” said my daughter, ‘there is a master’s swim meet in Chennai. You stand a very good chance of winning.”
“But I can’t swim fast,” I protested.
“Don’t worry, half the people your age cannot even make it across the pool.” She paused for effect, “it is a 50 meter pool”.
The regular pool I swam in was only 20 meters. I could do a hundred non stop laps, but as a leisurely medley. Plus, I just could not do underwater turns. My aged vestibular apparatus acted up if I tried. I often wound up facing sideways.
“I can’t turn.”
My daughter said ,’People my age can’t turn. Don’t worry.”
I had run out of excuses. On the fateful day we went to Chennai’s aquatic complex in Velacherry. The pool was 50 meters long fairly opaque with a few feathers floating inside. We disrobed and entered. They had emptied a few buckets of chlorine into it. At least no bacteria could survive!
Many “masters” had turned up. There was a 72 year old gentlemen for 400 meters (4 lengths) freestyle. He was the only one in that category. He kicked off from the side as he could not dive. Everyone waited and waited patiently as he slowly inched across the pool
The coordinator hissed to the umpire, “ we are running late. He will take ages. “
The umpire said’ Start the next race in the other lanes.”
“What about him?”
“Let him continue. He won’t even realize.”
Two more races were completed before the old man got out of the pool. He received a standing ovation.
The newly married woman had about a kilo of bangles on each arm.
“Madam” said the coordinator, “those will weigh you down”.
“ I don’t care” she said “I waited thirty five years for my parents to find me a husband. I don’t want to remove my bangles now!”
As the race started it became very clear that she was swimming with “resistance weights.” She grunted and puffed and lagged further behind. She finished 30 seconds behind everyone else and sank to the bottom. They put in a bamboo pole to help her climb out.
At the prize distribution as a veterans name was announced for the first prize she came forward to collect her medal.
“Madam” said the coordinator, “you already have your medal around your neck.”
“That is my husbands medal. You didn’t give it to him so I took it from the side --over there”. She pointed to a pile of medals. “He wanted one.”
At the conclusion of the prize distribution the coordinator announced, “ the nationals are in Bangalore in December. All those who qualified are welcome to attend.” He looked at the motley group of senior citizens. “Please please make sure a relative accompanies you!”
Dr. Gita Mathai
The writer is a paediatrician with a family practice at Vellore.
If you have any questions on health issues please write to
yourhealthgm@yahoo.co.in
Wednesday, October 26, 2011
Monday, October 17, 2011
frogs and the future
Frogs and the future
He had become a renowned surgeon, and one day, over a glass of beer, he said,
“did you know I failed twice during my undergraduate—once in physiology and then in OG (obstetrics and Gynaecology)?”
40 years ago boys were not interested in OG. The entire department, labour room and outpatient were avoided as far as possible. Most of them had only a minimum working knowledge of the female anatomy and its function. (They knew just enough to shout PMS during class arguments.). A few men who wanted to take up OG as a speciality in later life kept their interests very secretive. There was a tendency to consider them voyeurs .
“What happened?”
“Bloody woman examiner! Looked down her nose at me and asked me to lock the forceps. No matter how hard I tried I could not. Do you know I saw her in Chennai recently. I went up to her and asked if she remembered me.”
“Did she?”
“Yes. Actually said that she thought my knowledge had improved as I now had two children!”
I looked at him “how did you fail physiology?”
“They gave us a bloody frog. Told us to kill it ourselves for the practical. They killed the frogs for the girls though! I thought I would just give it a little shock before I killed it. It jumped out of the window. “
I said, “didn’t you ask for another frog?”
“I did, but the examiner had seen what I did. He asked me to leave and gave me zero.”
Dr. Gita Mathai
The writer is a paediatrician with a family practice at Vellore.
If you have any questions on health issues please write to
yourhealthgm@yahoo.co.in
He had become a renowned surgeon, and one day, over a glass of beer, he said,
“did you know I failed twice during my undergraduate—once in physiology and then in OG (obstetrics and Gynaecology)?”
40 years ago boys were not interested in OG. The entire department, labour room and outpatient were avoided as far as possible. Most of them had only a minimum working knowledge of the female anatomy and its function. (They knew just enough to shout PMS during class arguments.). A few men who wanted to take up OG as a speciality in later life kept their interests very secretive. There was a tendency to consider them voyeurs .
“What happened?”
“Bloody woman examiner! Looked down her nose at me and asked me to lock the forceps. No matter how hard I tried I could not. Do you know I saw her in Chennai recently. I went up to her and asked if she remembered me.”
“Did she?”
“Yes. Actually said that she thought my knowledge had improved as I now had two children!”
I looked at him “how did you fail physiology?”
“They gave us a bloody frog. Told us to kill it ourselves for the practical. They killed the frogs for the girls though! I thought I would just give it a little shock before I killed it. It jumped out of the window. “
I said, “didn’t you ask for another frog?”
“I did, but the examiner had seen what I did. He asked me to leave and gave me zero.”
Dr. Gita Mathai
The writer is a paediatrician with a family practice at Vellore.
If you have any questions on health issues please write to
yourhealthgm@yahoo.co.in
Sunday, October 9, 2011
snake attacks
More about snakes
“I don’t know why ma, you see snakes wherever you go.”
I protested, “I don’t see snakes! They really are there. Your grandfather actually killed one in the house.”
She was referring to the new snake, the bane of our lives. We had just finished the construction of our new house into which we planned to move in a couple of months. The garden was wild and overgrown. As I asked the contractor to clean it he said, “I can’t get any workers to do it , there is a snake.”
He pointed to an ant hill in the far corner.
“That “ I told him “is an ant hill.”
“Oh no,” he said, “it is a snake pit.”
I looked it up on Google. Apparently snakes eat ants, termites and whatever else lives in the pit. It is a sort of parasitic existence.
“Can we not pour a little kerosene on it and set it alight?”
Personally I thought it was a brilliant solution. Termites, ants and other vermin whatever it contained, disappearing in one glorious blaze.
The difficulty was that no one was willing to stomp through the underbrush (which may have lurking snakes) and approach the ant hill.
“We” announced the contractor “have to employ a snake charmer.”
He produced a snake charmer a couple of days later. A dirty wizened man in a loin cloth with many beads around his neck, his hair pinned to one side and a mobile phone in his pocket.
“How much?”I asked.
“Rs. 6000/ “- he said. “It is a dangerous business. “
“Too much “ I said.
He looked condescendingly at me. “There are many snakes there. When you want me, call. Here is my number.” He actually had a visiting card saying “world famous snake charmer” with a mobile number printed on it.
“I know snakes only live in pairs,” I said. (I had looked that up also).
“Books don’t know everything” he said, “I know.”
I spoke to my husband about it. “I am facing a lot of problems in getting the new house ready. There is a snake there.”
“How does that worry you? The snake is in the garden.” He disappeared for his daily run.
My mother in law called the next day. “I heard you have a snake in your new house.”
News travels fast in the family grape vine. “Yes, I have a snake in the garden.”
“All you need to do,” said my mother in law is to get a picture of St George killing the dragon and hang it in your house. The snake will not come .”
“Can the snake see the picture?” asked my grandson.
I had no answer for that.
I down loaded a picture from the internet, fixed it to a stick and stabbed the ant hill with it from a safe distance.
No one saw the snake for a couple of days. Perhaps St. George really worked?
I employed some labourers to shift the furniture. The thumping and movement must have disturbed the snake. It emerged and wriggled really fast in the garden.
“Yahoo” shouted a labourer, “snake snake!”. He was a particularly nasty looking specimen. He had a blue plastic earring in one ear, a denim shirt saying “Rajinikanth” and a red bandana.
He caught the snake by its neck and threw it against the granite wall. The snake fell down stunned. He then leapt around and beat it to death.
“Do you want to burn it?”
“Nah,” he said as he flung the mutilated snake over the compound wall.
I almost felt sorry for the poor creature.
Dr. Gita Mathai
The writer is a paediatrician with a family practice at Vellore.
If you have any questions on health issues please write to
yourhealthgm@yahoo.co.in
“I don’t know why ma, you see snakes wherever you go.”
I protested, “I don’t see snakes! They really are there. Your grandfather actually killed one in the house.”
She was referring to the new snake, the bane of our lives. We had just finished the construction of our new house into which we planned to move in a couple of months. The garden was wild and overgrown. As I asked the contractor to clean it he said, “I can’t get any workers to do it , there is a snake.”
He pointed to an ant hill in the far corner.
“That “ I told him “is an ant hill.”
“Oh no,” he said, “it is a snake pit.”
I looked it up on Google. Apparently snakes eat ants, termites and whatever else lives in the pit. It is a sort of parasitic existence.
“Can we not pour a little kerosene on it and set it alight?”
Personally I thought it was a brilliant solution. Termites, ants and other vermin whatever it contained, disappearing in one glorious blaze.
The difficulty was that no one was willing to stomp through the underbrush (which may have lurking snakes) and approach the ant hill.
“We” announced the contractor “have to employ a snake charmer.”
He produced a snake charmer a couple of days later. A dirty wizened man in a loin cloth with many beads around his neck, his hair pinned to one side and a mobile phone in his pocket.
“How much?”I asked.
“Rs. 6000/ “- he said. “It is a dangerous business. “
“Too much “ I said.
He looked condescendingly at me. “There are many snakes there. When you want me, call. Here is my number.” He actually had a visiting card saying “world famous snake charmer” with a mobile number printed on it.
“I know snakes only live in pairs,” I said. (I had looked that up also).
“Books don’t know everything” he said, “I know.”
I spoke to my husband about it. “I am facing a lot of problems in getting the new house ready. There is a snake there.”
“How does that worry you? The snake is in the garden.” He disappeared for his daily run.
My mother in law called the next day. “I heard you have a snake in your new house.”
News travels fast in the family grape vine. “Yes, I have a snake in the garden.”
“All you need to do,” said my mother in law is to get a picture of St George killing the dragon and hang it in your house. The snake will not come .”
“Can the snake see the picture?” asked my grandson.
I had no answer for that.
I down loaded a picture from the internet, fixed it to a stick and stabbed the ant hill with it from a safe distance.
No one saw the snake for a couple of days. Perhaps St. George really worked?
I employed some labourers to shift the furniture. The thumping and movement must have disturbed the snake. It emerged and wriggled really fast in the garden.
“Yahoo” shouted a labourer, “snake snake!”. He was a particularly nasty looking specimen. He had a blue plastic earring in one ear, a denim shirt saying “Rajinikanth” and a red bandana.
He caught the snake by its neck and threw it against the granite wall. The snake fell down stunned. He then leapt around and beat it to death.
“Do you want to burn it?”
“Nah,” he said as he flung the mutilated snake over the compound wall.
I almost felt sorry for the poor creature.
Dr. Gita Mathai
The writer is a paediatrician with a family practice at Vellore.
If you have any questions on health issues please write to
yourhealthgm@yahoo.co.in
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