And so, last week I fell badly, tearing my rotator cuff—that’s the tendon that connects the muscle to the shoulder. I wish it had been a more heroic way to tear a shoulder tendon—diving to stop a cricket ball, or pulling someone out of harms way. But no such luck, water had collected beneath a bath mat, and as it happens, you cartwheel through the air a la Charlie Chaplin or Jackie Chan—you think the worst, but instinct kicks in… protect, protect, protect—a split second is all you have, to differentiate between a back and a brain injury. So, you take the load on the shoulder. An MRI scan gave me the grave news that this was a serious tear. No steroid injections, no physio, would suffice… surgery was the only solution, my orthopaedic surgeon informed me, “Dikra, Arthroscopy, is the modern way. Won’t have to cut you open… two small incisions, arm in a sling for two months”.

I love hospitals, not that I’m given to morbidity, but you witness humanity at its core. All the high-tech equipment in the world can never replace heightened empathy. The Hippocratic Oath on display at every moment.