So, you had these divine golgappas at a hip roadside stall and soon after you started squirting poop smoothies from your lesser orifice until that’s all you did for every meal you had. You felt so sore and weak from the smelly exercise that it felt as if you had a conceived a thousand poop children from your boohoo.
Finally, you had a better notion to see a doctor instead of living out the rest of your days in a poo ridden world.
Your doctor, being the good guy he was, pretended that you smelled like roses , restrained himself from making you the butt of diarrhea jokes (See what I did there?) and prescribed you a bunch of pills for a couple of days.
On Day 1, you returned him the favor by being an obedient patient. Your sense of smell, almost dead now, welcomed the pills that promised to put an end to your perfumery experiments. Your tongue, which had not touched anything solid for days, did not protest either.
On Day 2, your smoothies weren’t so smooth any more. Your body started feeling like it was 60% water again. You got that bounce back to your step. Feeling encouraged, you gulped down the pills without complaint.
By Day 4, your poop was back in shape with swag.
You started feeling as if you were the king of the world and that you could do absolutely anything; even be your own doctor. You stared at your pills for hours until they started pleading to you in their tiny chipmunk voices to spare them the mercy of your stomach acid. Feeling generous, you granted them their little wish. Oh! And how it cost you!!
On Day 7, they rolled you into hospital on a wheelchair, because you had started taking a piss from your butt-hole instead of your pee-hole and even the nurse couldn’t make out which was which. You were praying to all the fractured stars in the universe to bless you with a different doctor, but bless they did not. Guiltily, you managed a smile but your doctor, being a real doctor, saw through your poor pretenses and asked you your most dreaded question: DID YOU SKIP YOUR PILLS?? (With all the double spaces and the emphasizing punctuation, mind you!) Hell hath no fury like a doctor scorned!! Scared out of your pants, you passed out. (Or pretended to at least)
So, why did your poo betray you after showing much promise?
Uhm, well. You probably know that little buggers called bacteria are responsible for most of your life issues? Okay, not really. But these little buggers can really, really upset your sweet body. So, how does your body respond to the enemy? It manufactures antibodies(which are anti-bugger and not anti-body per se. English is weird, huh?) to kill the buggers. I never said that your sweet body preferred the Gandhian philosophy over violence. But sometimes, these buggers who have a way better sex life than most of us can boast of, multiply thousand-folds in short spans of time and dodge the antibody bullets. The surviving generations celebrate by having more sex and feeding on the seven-course meal buffet that is your body. This is when your doctor comes in and hands you the nuclear bombs that are pills(antibacterials/antibiotics) to destroy the nasty buggers once and for all. But when you don’t finish your course of pills, you allow a few buggers to escape. These surviving buggers are the most lethal, by now they have seen everything there is to see and are immune to your nuclear attacks. They reproduce in vengeance, bringing up a million generations of super-buggers that wont be bothered by your flimsy counter-attacks. They have only one mission: To destroy you. They stir up a bugger-apocalypse inside your body. Your doctor is going to find it difficult to clear THAT out!
Why, why do you hate yourself so much?
Take all your pills, the doctor said. Go on. Take them.
-Aishwarya Ghonge, Content Writer at Mera Medicare
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