Losing a camera

I’m a big bitch. A big clumsy pig-head. I try to help too much. And in that process I dig a huge enough hole to sink my head in and rot in peace. That is how things get screwed up in my life.

I was supposedly trying to build an archive of photographs in our department at the hospital. Whom for? For the benefit of humanity perhaps. For that I needed Chuck’s digital camera. Well, he trusted me with it.

Today morning, I wanted to make sure that all of the photos in my archive are excellent; a few of them were a little blurry. I took the camera from home. I carried it to the OT and kept in my bag in the dressing room. I forgot to take it with to the tables. And I assisted the last case.

That is all what is needed. Someone stole the camera. When I finally found it out, I tried to be super-cool; searched all the places methodically. Even acted like I didn’t care a bit.

But it is lost. ‘Stolen’ is the better word. But because I didn’t take the maximum precautions, ‘lost’ is what is most appropriate for the situation. Some worthless individual who might even be a medical student, has stolen the camera and made me suffer.

This is three days before his wedding. I am screwed.

I call up Chuck and break this news. I think I do such things without much of emotion. He is shocked. I fear the worst in our relationship is yet to come.