I am human so indulge my cognitive biases – I think my misfortune is carpet-bombing me.
If I were a Feng Shui fanatic I might probably fear that the coming Hungry Ghost Month has come earlier than expected. But even if I’m not a believer of superstitious mumbo-jumbo, a sprained ankle and a broken molar all in one week feels suspiciously like a gangbang of bad luck.
Yet, to think of it, if there is any plausible explanation for my current state, it’s not really that the universe is turning me over for a grand whipping — it’s plain human stupidity.
Last week Thursday, I went to Affinity Clinic along Rufino to have the pain between my two molars checked. The attending dentist, after x-raying the area, said I had a periodontal pocket between my molars, but just to be safe she proceeded excavating one of my molars which was filled years back. After discovering that there were no leaks to worry about (obviously — the x-ray didn’t reveal any!), she filled it again. Only this time, she filled it too high. It felt weird but the dentist said it was because the filling was new, which I believed, and then led to a broken molar one fine Tuesday evening during dinner when I was carefully chewing my tomato side dish.
Anyway, I won’t divulge much of the details because the case is currently on file with my health maintenance organization and they’re trying the fix the problem.
Come Wednesday evening, my officemates and I went kickboxing at this bakal gym somewhere in Singalong. (My officemate’s friend owns the place.) While doing my Muay Thai killer kicks I happened to twist my ankle which meant not being able to work the next day because of the jabs of murderous pain in my ankle area.
I asked my dad to drive me all the way to Alabang to see a specialist and when I got there I looked stupid limping at Asian Hospital with my hurt ankle, although I think I wasn’t very convincing as a handicapped person because nobody offered me a wheelchair. What was worse was I had to go to the building across to have my Maxicare card verified, and I had to go back again to the main building.
At first I had a difficult time looking for room 603 since there were no signs (or maybe I wasn’t looking hard enough). I ended up in a patient room and I think they just wheeled someone who died out of there because it looked really sad and there was a nurse cleaning the bed. I eventually got to asking a nurse who directed me to where I should go. So I huddled towards the doctor’s building and waited 4 hours for my check-up (I fell asleep at the hospital lobby so I didn’t end up watching afternoon soap operas which threatened to liquefy my brain) just to have someone tell me to get an x-ray.
To be fair though, the Etoricoxib the rehabilitation doctor prescribed worked wonders since I can walk properly now (I am, once more, a living proof that polio was virtually eradicated years back). I have no words to describe it except it’s miraculous. It’s the stuff of the New Testament, I tell you (you know, blind people seeing, cripples walking, stuff like that.)
I’m not looking forward to running out of our office screaming and on fire but I might as well prepare for the worst. After these incidents, I can’t help but be that boy warily looking behind his back, in paranoia.
(I think this is payback from the universe for being so politically incorrect. LOL. There goes my cognitive bias again…)
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