NO GOOD DEED GOES UNPUNISHED

“It’s just that I feel weak, a lot, now days. I feel sleepy and I never want to wake up. I get giddy when I look a anything that moves and when I climb stairs. I have never felt this way, Doctor, and I am now a little worried.”
For the past month, till date, I have been working from roughly 7.30 in the morning till 10 in the night. My sole company, through the day, being my pangs of hunger, my occasional head spins and the inconsistent but persistent gnarl shoved at me from my superiors.
One sweep from head to toe and the doc is ready with his differential. He was careful in laying the facts in front of me. Something of my stature must have emanated the radiance of a man 10 seconds away from choosing his path between Heaven and Hell. I have no idea what gave him the idea that this 21 year old, hard working, biker could not handle a spot of shock. Something told me he wanted to make sure I was out of his office when I received the details of his analysis, should I fall stiff on my back from shock and hold him responsible for my condition. I gave him the benefit of the doubt and waited to be ushered out of his office by the secretary he summoned by the push of an old fashioned “twist” bell. I was waiting for the voice of the young and hopefully cute secretary to call me into the ante-office to collect the details of my condition. I was instead a little taken aback by the approaching figure. It was the lady I had taken pity on, outside the clinic. I had dropped a couple of coins next to her on my way in. I was praying to God she was a patient here. Well, no good deed goes unpunished. I left the clinic with a printed sheet with close to a dozen tests on them. I was directed to a Lab down the road by the “secretary”. There was no trace of emotion on her face. I was now assured she did not have a refreshing tea from the money I so graciously donated her.
I took the list and rode down to the Lab. I am still worried I was sent to this Lab on purpose. I would have taken a week with a detective’s magnifying glass to find this place. It was neatly sheltered under the sanctuary of a dilapidated 2 storey mansion’s rickety stairwell. I was supposed to get my blood tested in here. I was rightfully scared beyond reason when I was approached by a young chap wearing a faded, checked, "lungi" that was neatly raised to seemingly reveal the “patta-patti” underwear, underneath and to my concern, he was holding a syringe in his hands. I had made my mind up, for I believed this was an act of God, in retaliation to the tea-tip. I entrusted the safety of my throbbing vein to the man in the veil. The vein was throbbing on its own accord, from fear for safety, no doubt. He was happy to poke the metal into my very obvious vein and draw a sample of my blood for the tests. I was convinced he was no good at small talk when he ventured to ease my nerves by saying it had taken him 7 jabs and 25 minutes to locate the previous “patient’s” vein. I gave up in horror. I was ready to leave when I saw him approach, this time, holding a white plastic cup. I was going to curse God again, linking to the tea-tip, when I realized the cup was empty. I was mildly relieved and was eager to leave. He stopped me with a sharp whistle and a careless wave of the cup. I was amused. But that was just for a fleeting moment, for the next second, he handed me the cup and pointed to a dark corner of the hole they called the Lab. I understood. I had to get out of this place at the earliest. I filled the cup up and left for the nearest hotel to wash myself up. Not wanting to go there a second time, I directed the men to have all the reports mailed to the doctor and the bills also with it. I would settle it there. He was not happy, but agreed. I ran home and drank water till I was leaking from my nose. I wanted no nightmares when I slept that night.
“Did you receive my reports Doctor? They have charged me quite a bit for these tests. I hope they were helpful.”
“Well, they are helpful, but if you say your giddiness is too much to bear, we will have to scan your head.”
“No, thanks Doc. I feel quite safe and I am sure I do not require a head scan.” I was not going to put myself through another series of torture.
“Your blood and urine look normal. If you want a source for all your problems, I am sure you’ll find it in you. You are too weak. That is why you feel tired. Can you describe your daily intake?”
The rest of the conversation was completely useless as I was down right blown away. I got off work early to come see a doctor and I go through a load of completely de-moralizing incidents, I pay a good-for-nothing lab a small fortune to receive a completely useless report and all I get from this is a lousy “You feel tired because you are weak.” I clearly remember that this was exactly what I told the doctor. Man if I had not tipped the secretary, I might have at least landed up in Lab, instead of a rat hole and I would not have felt bad burning a hole in my pocket.