Menoparched [men-oh-par-tccchh-d]; the condition of being sucked dry

I recall telling you about recent dust invasion per the arrival of the Mumbai summer.  What?- don't remember?  Funny.  I do.  Maybe the short-term memory is healing.  Or, just maybe, I looked back a few pages.

Probably the latter.

Anyway.  Being sucked dry can be metaphorical too.  Since the crowd got back from the High Peaks of Uttarakashi and Gangotri,  they have been in less than top form.  Not that they had a poor time.  Quite the contrary.  Rather, on that return journey, whether from the strains of 18 days of almost constant travel, different places, different food, or different climates, something came upon them all.  Within 24 hours the first few went down and it's been like skittles ever since. 

The "official" doctor here only ever throws antibiotics at the patient.  Cough and cold?  A/bs stat.  Headache?  A/bs stat.  Broken toe?  A/bs stat.  It's turned to gangrene?  Double the A/bs stat.  If it's not A/bs then it's Vit B injections. 

Thus, many of these students try to avoid that individual.  Of course we have our portion of dyed-in-the-wool allopathic followers.  Majority though have the good sense to let things run their course.  The recent bout of gastro trubs however, required a bit of care.  We are blessed to have one of the students qualified in Ayurvedic Medicine; so a fair number of the youngsters utilise his talents.  Then there's yours truly.

If Indians love anything as much as Ayurveda, it's homoeopathy.   Have not advertised it widely - am here to study, not play medic.  When the need is high, though, it cannot be ignored.

So attentions have been sought for 'the mystery bug', successfully I am pleased to report.

Then there are the stings and grazes and damaged backs, necks, legs and arms.  It is wonderful to feel needed, truly.  The thing is we have our quotient of 'professional sick persons'.  You know the type.  Need a body brace today (and then for as long as I can milk it there-after) because I bent the wrong way when touching Swami-ji's feet.  Or, I am unable to write my essays for Swami-ji due to RSI… explaining how this is unlikely to be their diagnosis, if they were to attend for testing, doesn't dissuade.  Also, pointing out that the writing of notes in class is contrary to their claim, generally doesn't go down well.

They insist on coming to Yamini-amma though, because she listens.  Doctor-ji has the bedside manner of a 2x4 fence post.  I don't pull punches.  I will tell folk when they need to get their act together… "XXXXy, do you think it is possible that you may have the answer to your own cure?"  But I will give them the time and courtesy of listening. 

The recent upsurge in 'consultations' though has reminded me that I need to put my professional persona back in place.  It hasn't been needed for so long that, having forgotten initially, I began to feel drained and put upon in regards to time taken.

It reminded me of early days in practice, all fresh and keen to fix the ills of the world and how the ill of the world can suck one dry.

Love (with the capital ell)

How does one quench the drought created by giving without self-protection?  Bring out, brush-up and revive the skills lying dormant (part one).  Then,  blab about it to the world (part two)!  A burden shared is a burden spared.... (okay I made that up, but it seems about right).

Thank you for your time, "Blogtor".


(Taronga Zoo, Sydney - this youngster was being bullied by some teenage 'larrichimps'.  Mum called him over and the hug ensued.  The whole crowd - including me - sighed. AWWW!)