Brutal

That’s the only word making rounds in my head.

It started yesterday. As usual, I dropped into the gym enroute school pick up. Having arrived earlier than usual, and having an extra half hour, I did an additional round of interval until my heart jumped out of my chest cavity. Am I fantastic or what?

Then, the call registered. I reluctantly used the toilet in the gym, because, when the bladder wants to void, the bladder wants to void. As I washed up after business was transacted, I remembered that the previous time I had emptied my innards in a public rest room, my urethra had let it known in no uncertain terms that she ain’t happy  until she was placated by a very heavy duty course of antibiotics.

But, I had just set the endorphins free, hadn’t I? That would have triggered the immune system.  Sure.

As I got into the car, I realised that I had forgotten to bring water . Short on cash (aka empty wallet ) , and late to school, I ignored the inner call for hydration.

That was simply too much provocation, apparently.

Twenty four hours later, I sit on the throne and scream holy murder as what feel like a few porcupines, but are actually a few microdrops of kidney juice, find their way out of a fiery tube.

Stupid internal plumbing design, I say.

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6 thoughts on “Brutal

  1. Maha

    Sorry to hear about that LG… feel better soon.

    PS: May be insensitive of me to say this now given that you are in pain but this is so very well written – “I sit on the throne and scream holy murder as what feel like a few porcupines, but are actually a few microdrops of kidney juice, find their way out of a fiery tube”

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