This appeared in one of my healthcare blogs a few weeks back.
Jeremy Harris is a stock broker in the Wall Street. His asian counterpart, Sharad Sinha slogs it out on the Bombay Stock Exchange. Incredibly enough, Bombay Stock Exchange continues to be Bombay Stock Exchange, or BSE for short. No amount of posturing by radical elements in the west Indian state of Maharashtra has been able to get the name changed to MSE, or Mumbai Stock Exchange.
Jeremy Harris had the shock of his life when the stocks he had bet on plummeted like ninepins in the great collapse of 2008-09. Sharad Sinha, too, was no better off. He had gambled without caring to put stop losses in place, so when stocks tumbled, he had no place to hide. Very soon, both Jeremy and Sharad were licking their hideous wounds in private, grumbling about how cruel it was for providence to have hurt them in such a terrible way.
Jeremy tried to drown his sorrow in Moran’s Bar (not morons’ bar!) at Washington Street, while Sharad sought refuge in the warm and friendly ambience of Leopold at Colaba Causeway. Then they had sleepless nights too, whiling away hours pondering over what had gone wrong. Their diets went awry, too many binges of beer on inadequately filled stomachs, and often oily snacks to complement the alcohol. The stress was overwhelming, and soon splitting headaches were added to the agony. Jeremy popped in a few aspirins every now and then, while Sharad swallowed ‘combiflam’ and ‘ibucomb’ purchased over the counter from chemist shops by the dozen to keep the headache at bay. When they returned to their respective homes, Jeremy quarreled with his girlfriend Sarah, and Sharad had fights with his wife Karuna over trivial issues. It was at this point of time that GERD crept into the lives of Jeremy and Sharad, and made life hellish for them.
One night, when Jeremy had just manage to catch a wink of fitful sleep after hours of agonising wait, a large glob of acid, slime and bile got past Jeremy’s lower esophageal sphincter (the valve which keeps the acid from entering the foodpipe) and swam all the way up to his mouth and nose, almost choking him for an instant and awakening him in a violent spasm of cough. Jeremy got up in an instant and rushed to the loo, groggy eyed and all, and vomited. It was round one to GERD. The same night, Sharad complained of tearing pain at the pit of his stomach, the intensity of which was enough for him to summon an ambulance from the nearby hospital and rush to the ICU, fearing a heart attack. It turned out to be GERD, and Sharad was discharged the next morning after an endoscopy, with sufficient advice to keep his lousy food habits in check.
Both Jeremy and Sharad now realised that they had to mend their ways to keep them from falling victims to acid reflux. Sarah made sure Jeremy got up early in the morning and went for a jog, while Karuna placed Sharad under a holy oath which forbade him from touching alcohol. Tides turned, and Jeremy and Sharad gradually inched back into profit territory. Regular exercise, abstinence from alcohol and a relaxed atmosphere, both at work and at home, worked wonders. As of now, Jeremy and Sharad live a GERD free life. Both are campaigners for healthy living practices, and do their bit to educate their colleagues about acid reflux and the ways to avoid it.
Sarah and Karuna had never been happier before. Both Jeremy and Sharad have great domestic (read sex) lives. But those who are yet uncomfortable with the name BombayStock Exchange continue to suffer from heartburn.
Anyone who would like to make a movie on this? Free comedians available!
