To Be Or Not To Be
To Be Or Not To Be! That's the question. Well, that's half the question really. To be sick / ill / indisposed is the true question. Long long ago it wasn't uncommon to wait for your turn at a Government hospital before a disinterested ward boy would shout your name or number and you would awake from your slumber with a shudder with adrenaline rushing all the way up from groin to brain - or is it other way round? Anyway you would run towards the door behind which lay your wealth of health, all the while trying to hold on to your falling reports and prescriptions, only to be stopped by the pan chewing ward boy who would ask you to wait for the 30 people inside to thin out before you could enter the din inside and hope to see the doctor from above the shoulders of others or through the gaps in between bums (of different people). You would inwardly curse him for not letting you catch up on your two winks and letting the seat on the wooden bench go out of your control but