I'm supposed to be reading. But I've gone through this particular paragraph for the umpteenth time; I wonder what I'm thinking about. I try again. This time taking every line ultra slowly like the Holiness preachers of those days. But then I'm preaching to myself.
Serological... studies... can... also... be... performed... on... serum... samples... collected... from... patients...10... days... apart.
I don't get it, so I read the line again, trying my best to focus and visualize every word.
Se.. ro.. lo.. gi.. cal.
'What are serological studies?', I ask myself, 'What are serum samples?' Collected from patients. Ten days apart. Oh! It's simple now. So why didn't I understand it before? I continue reading and soon I'm at the end of the paragraph not knowing how I got there 'cause I can't tell what sentences I just read. I jolt back to reality on spotting a particular word; one that induces terror. The word—DEAD! I read that line again. This time with my eyes peeled.
Finally, microscopic examination of liver biopsy of DEAD patients can show some specific changes in the liver.
I heave a sigh of relief or maybe frustration. What else did I expect to hear from a medical textbook?
I marvel at how some words are strong enough to call a wandering mind back to a book. Words as the above and the popular three-letter word. Has it ever happened to you? You are reading, or better put, skimming a page. Your eyes are roving but your mind has lammed to London. And just then, your eyes light on that three letter word. You suddenly come to and want to know what it refers to, only to find out, very often, that it talks about genders. I wonder why the mind is like that. And flipping the script, that word is also strong enough to take a concentrating mind off the book. Well, depending on the condition of the heart.
©Radiant~ January 2015