A departmental protocol presentation is not different from a feeling of an impending doom called a viva, except that it happens to be a live matinee show in front of your entire batch, so it is only worse. After weeks of slogging, editing, re-editing and editing of the re-edited version, a presentation is the last step before that comfortable feeling of completion, and feels like when you know that you will have Selina Kyle in the end but you will get beaten to a pulp by Bane before that. Anyone who has read Chetan Bhagat’s Five Point Someone would remember a viva where a student goes in drunk and answers very honestly. The following is a highly fictional
nightmare dream about someone giving a presentation in a rather Harishchandra state of mind.
Good morning to faculty and also to my colleagues, who were there with me till late last night trying to get this Microsoft PowerPoint to work properly in my highly virus-infested laptop. The topic that I have chosen to be harassed upon is *Enter Subject*. I am sorry if my speed will be a little slow, because like most of you, I will also be reading the finished version of this ppt for the first time, so kindly bear with me.
I would like to thank my supervisors and faculty for their guidance. But maximum gratitude to my seniors for their readymade protocols and to the computer expert protocol guy who edited it just perfectly as per my needs. Half my monthly salary went into paying his bills but I swear if it were not for him, my protocol would have looked like the script of a Salman Khan movie: A brilliant combination of lack of both sense and order.
The first slide is the background of this study in a concise manner, which is basically a collection of first lines of all the paragraphs of my introduction page, and is now making less sense than I actually thought it would. Next slide is my favourite one, as it tells the place where the study would be conducted, and even an idiot can type the name of his own department and hospital, so it was the easiest slide to make.
Finally we have reached the patient consent form, which requires to be typed in both Hindi and English because of legal issues that I don’t understand and the patients don’t care about. Hindi translation is a pain because I personally think it will be easier to explain a venous cannula to a patient than explaining a rakta-koshika praveshni, because that makes it sound like I’m going to suck his blood using a straw or something.
This was my protocol for my study, which after two years will be a finished product of
fiction hard work, blood and sweat… of the patients. But I will be there whenever they need me, with a pen and my data sheet, because all those numbers won’t make themselves up.