Of Guns & Roses (My medical diary)

My experience of being to the hospital is just visiting friends and acquaintances. So very clearly I am just as ignorant as my family about hospital procedures. Putting an end to this, I got myself admitted to the Nemcare hospitals situated at Bhangagarh to undergo an appendectomy surgery.

The night went under the overdose of medicines and I woke up to the bright sun smiling at me through the glass panes of my air conditioned cabin. As I was instructed to eat something light last till 9am, I awaited the arrival of my family who would bring me eatables. Till 12 noon, there was no sign of either doctors or nurses and I was just getting anxious at the arrival of each visitor who was gracious enough to check my status and support me as I prepared to lie in the operation bed.
Suddenly a hoard of nurses appeared before me armed with syringes. One had the uniform on while the other appeared to be a trainee, who passed a mocking smile at me, taking me back to the Biology practical classes of my early days where poor chloroformed frogs were dissected brutally. And yes there was no escape for me either; prick….that was heart-aching. Three futile attempts to ascertain my tiny vein and she finally resorted to a pair of experienced hands which in no time dented the route to my life-line. To add to it, whether one is really sick or goes to the hospital fit and fine where the doctors do not recognize the patient, as in my case, you apparently appear miserable and hapless once you change to the OT attire.
Next then, a ward boy roped in with a wheel chair which was to take me to the floor below.  That moment I just close my eyes and felt like I was approaching my death –bed. Bidding a confused goodbye to my father who looked equally worried (for the first time I could see a cloud of uneasiness mar his otherwise composed face), I leaped off the moving chair into the operation theatre. They made me wait outside the minor OT while they shifted a freshly operated patient to the ICU. It was my turn next and I got up the operation bed facing a giant light numbered 1 to 5. The nurses and helpers kept moving swiftly all around me abusing about some fellow colleagues (I was least interested) and simultaneously lining all the surgical instruments on a long table. One of them tied my hands to the bed; other covered my body with the traditional green cloth which I saw in movies while the other placed ECG electrodes to monitor my timid heart. They say that ‘a little knowledge is a dangerous thing’ and the information I had gathered from the internet about the step wise method of the operation proved sinister and erupted questions in my mind if I would prove to  be a medical failure of my Super specialist’s career profile.
While all these wild thoughts gushed my mind, a soft hand caressed my hair and inquired Monika ‘Did you sleep last night?’ Oh! What do I tell you, it felt to me as soothing as a traveler would feel to see an oasis in a barren desert. She was my anesthesiologist with whom I had a very brief interaction the previous night. She started humming an old Bollywood number but I couldnot recall the actor in that song while she inserted the hallucinating drug into my blood stream. She quickly asked me, ”Monika, do you have any commitments to keep?” I was dumbstruck. Such a question at this hour. I was about to answer when my surgeon just arrived and for the first time I saw him smile and say” READY”? What could I probably say yes…or…. The last thing that I heard was,” Good Night Monika,  it s time for some sweet dreams”.
          Someone wanted to wake me up from my deep slumber..”Monika, utha Monika, utha (get up dear). I was so unwilling, I had just slept and it was time for me to get up again? With a bleak vision I could see the team, I could hear my surgeon-“Congratulations, the operation is successful.” At last, I thought , the appendice  has been assassinated. But wait, what was happening to me … I had great difficulty in breathing, my throat was extremely dry and even though a medium was present the mechanical waves fail to reach any ears. I animatedly showed signs of a fish out of water pleading for air to breathe, to live..They hurriedly brought the oxygen mask to the rescue helping me regain full consciousness and ready to be transferred to my cabin.
Once out, I first met my father who asked” Bhale asou?”(are you fine?). I wanted to jump, hug him and say, Yes Dad , Am absolutely fine; minus the resolutions I had taken inside the OT that I would never touch junk food and abstain from all kinds of unhealthy food. Now that I am out, it can be relaxed, I thought in splits of seconds. On the way to my cabin, I saw all familiar faces again; my best friend, my sister, my mother, my family members and they too were surprised to see a seemingly happy patient. The reason was that I realized the power that love, affection and prayers held in them. They were certainly some form of elixir that could, if not move mountains, at least, boost one morally to face the most crucial of situations.

The night that followed was a grueling one as it was post surgery period. Drop by drop, the salt solution entered my body whereas I showed no movements to protect my fresh cuts; my father dead awake and the nurses compromising their sleep to do their duty.
                                                         
Well time was afternoon the next day and after a quick checkup from my surgeon, I was discharged from the hospital. Once out, I faced the glaring ball, the heavy Guwahati traffic and of course the mundane life.. I retired to my cell phone, plugged to the RED FM. Well all had gone well, a Simple operation but a bag full of experience…..

Happy and healthy life!!