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The monkey saga is officially over.
Today (or probably yesterday by the time this is published and being read) I got my last of five Rabipur shots, meaning of course that the absolutely tiny chance I had of becoming a rabid monster in the near future is even tinier now. If that’s not a cause for celebration, I don’t know what is.
But obviously with my life being as it is, which is to say one super long trailer for a really bad sitcom involving every single WTF situation you can think of that nobody’s actually going to watch, the whole fiasco just had to end with a bang.
That bang being the sound of me hitting the floor.
I’ve mentioned before how, for whatever reason, my body likes to take matters into its own hands and faint almost every bleedin’ time I have an injection/piercing/tattoo and I’d already managed one relatively low-key fainting spell in this series of unfortunate inoculations. Evidently wishing for only 1 out of 5 was too much for the Universe (and my subconscious) to handle.
So yeah, today me and a friend who’s been my multifunctional interpreter, chauffeur and post-hospital ice cream buyer for almost all appointments rocked up to the hospital after lunch, expecting for it to be an easy breezy albeit slightly uncomfortable visit.
It was actually a lot quicker than normal because the evil nurse wouldn’t let me lie down, insisting I sit, and then sort of shooed me out of there without the what I thought was obligatory instructions of sit in the corridor under the fan for five minutes. So I stumbled on out of there like Bambi and made it all the way to the waiting area before having to sit down with my head between my legs. A few minutes of deep breathing later and it was all systems go, so we walked outside.
This is where Let’s Faint On My Friend’s Shoulder Part 1 happened.
There was a man working on very crude looking scaffolding (literally a stick tied to a rope being held in place by a rock and a man on the roof, super safe) on the building next door who we’d noticed on the way in. I looked up to see if he was still alive, and fortunately he was, except it seemed like he’d been joined by his twin brother as well as his twin brother’s twin brother and his twin brother, all of whom where dressed the same and making exactly the same movements at the same time. Very odd. Then they flipped upside down.
“I’m going to faint,” I told my friend, leaned into him and POOF my legs gave way and everything went black. It honestly only lasted about two seconds but I figured hey I’ve fainted, that’s done so let’s get out of here and we carried on veeeeery slowly to the car, my friend keeping me upright the whole way
The next few minutes are a bit blurry but from what I remember, we walked down the lane to the main road and I made a comment about how I couldn’t help walking in an extreme zig-zag pattern and hoped people didn’t think I was drunk. My buddy laughed and turned to look at me, said I looked a bit funny.
Then the dialogue went like this…
Me: I feel weird.
Friend: You okay?
Me: I can’t see anything. Why isn’t there anything to see?
Friend: You’ve gone pale. Your lips are grey. Why are they grey?
Cue Let’s Faint on My Friend’s Shoulder Part 2.
I sort of buried my head into his neck-shoulder area (super scandalous behaviour for public Indian streets!) and blacked out. The next thing I remember I was being dragged onto the pavement by a bunch of middle-aged Indian men.
Being all dazed and confused as, you know, anyone would be in this situation, I had no idea what happened but as I couldn’t see my friend, I jumped to the first conclusion I came to – we’d both been hit by a car and he was half dead in an ambulance. The reality is much less dramatic. He was behind me, holding me up so my head wouldn’t hit the floor. I’m such a drama queen.
Taking advantage of the standstill traffic jam I’d caused (because who wants to drive when there’s a half-conscious foreigner on the side of the road?!), one of the nice men ran across the road to get me some water while his buddies tried to insist we go to the hospital.
“It’s right there, it’s right there! Very close!”
Yup, we know.
After a little back-and-forth they all seemed to agree that HALLELUJAH I WILL SURVIVE and let us go back to the car. So we did just that! I lay in the super amazing AC for about 10 minutes then we drove back to the hotel, stopping to pick up a bottle of life otherwise known as Coke along the way, where I lay for a good hour feeling sorry for myself before heading back out for ice cream.
And that’s the end of that.
I don’t have rabies, I have no more injections and I managed to single-handedly give half of the city a heart attack. I also have very little skin left on the tops of both feet from where the very nice and helpful strange men dragged me across the floor, but it’s proven to be the perfect excuse to decorate myself with Disney Princess and Finding Dory plasters.
Moral of the story? Always sit in the clinic for 5 minutes after getting stabbed with a needle! Or alternatively just don’t get bitten by a monkey in the first place. Whichever you’d rather.