Somewhere below Calcutta above Chennai, in a small town, in a dirty hotel room, surrounded by bed bugs and mosquitoes, TG stares up at the slow circling fan. He has been doing the job of ten NGOs this past week without the paychecks, the prestige, or the gratitude. He has been investigating water sources, sitting in on town meetings, looking for points of contamination, and trying to come up with solutions that suit the local politics and the budget.
His foot is throbbing. He doesn't know why. That same foot, the one stung by the sting ray about a month ago, has not yet healed, not completely. He can walk, yes, a great improvement over the hopping cripple he had been immediately following the injury, but he can not run. TG, a marathon runner, has not been able to walk without a limp or pain since the accident. He wonders if he will be able to run again. Irritated by the heat, and the buzzing of the small hungry bugs flying about his exposed skin, he begins to rub at his old wound. He mutters at it. Yells at it. Picks at it.
"What is wrong with you?" addressing his throbbing foot.
His foot does not answer. He begins to dig into the scab now, the fresh blood getting under his fingernails and the already stained sheets. There is something there. He digs deeper, wincing as he tears into his heel with his fingers. He manages to grab hold of something, something buried in his flesh. He pinches the hard substance and pulls. A two inch fish bone dressed in coagulated blood is wrenched from his throbbing flesh. The doctors kept telling him there was nothing in his foot. The fan does not help to cool the room. The bugs are attracted to the blood. The throbbing in TG's foot begins to subside.
A retelling of what occurred...
His foot is throbbing. He doesn't know why. That same foot, the one stung by the sting ray about a month ago, has not yet healed, not completely. He can walk, yes, a great improvement over the hopping cripple he had been immediately following the injury, but he can not run. TG, a marathon runner, has not been able to walk without a limp or pain since the accident. He wonders if he will be able to run again. Irritated by the heat, and the buzzing of the small hungry bugs flying about his exposed skin, he begins to rub at his old wound. He mutters at it. Yells at it. Picks at it.
"What is wrong with you?" addressing his throbbing foot.
His foot does not answer. He begins to dig into the scab now, the fresh blood getting under his fingernails and the already stained sheets. There is something there. He digs deeper, wincing as he tears into his heel with his fingers. He manages to grab hold of something, something buried in his flesh. He pinches the hard substance and pulls. A two inch fish bone dressed in coagulated blood is wrenched from his throbbing flesh. The doctors kept telling him there was nothing in his foot. The fan does not help to cool the room. The bugs are attracted to the blood. The throbbing in TG's foot begins to subside.
A retelling of what occurred...
