Written on December 1st about the events of November 25-27, 2011
Thursday night was not pleasant at all. As soon as I came back to the room, I called Tara to tell her that I am ok and to email Chalam so that my abrupt disappearance wouldn't cause anymore worry. As soon as I finished the phone call, I sweated profusely and had to lie down.
Amma gave me some bread and water.
I couldn't sleep immediately because I had to wait for the 10pm medication.
Dr. Suresh Babu had instructed the nurse to give me a drip of paracetamol if I asked for it. Less from pain and more from fear of future pain, I insisted on it.
Not a prudent move.
It took a full hour for the drip to get into me. By 11:30pm, all my sleep had gone. Inexplicable, unpredictable muscle spasms kept me up all night. Achan was repeatedly summoned to examine if I was developing swellings or bleeding.
The swellings and bleeding were all in my mind.
Luckily, Achan has the gift of falling asleep and snoring away to glory as soon as his head hits the pillow. Having lived with this for over three decades, this snoral symphony has little effect on Amma. I felt quite bad about disturbing their sleep.
The tight scrotal support bandage hurt not only around its intended area but also on the hips where it dug in deep into the flesh.
Somehow, sunrise!
Amma went home early so that she could be at the bank. She would come and pick us up as soon as discharge orders were given. I enlisted Mangalam newspaper and Kerala Shabdam weekly as sedatives. No use!
While urination was cause of no worry this time, bowel movement began to creep up as a possible issue. "You have hardly eaten anything yesterday. It doesn't matter even if you don't go for a couple of days," said Achan who was by now intimately familiar with my worrisome nature.
Dr. Suresh Babu stopped by before heading to the surgery section. I told him about the pain. He confessed that muscle spasms that spur from surgery and bandaging are part of the deal. "If it becomes unbearable at any point, have some ibuprofen!"
Dr. Manoj came on the rounds. He looked at the neatly done, heavy bandange and said he wouldn't take it off without consulting with Dr. Haridas. I had idlis for breakfast avoiding the red hot chutney from the canteen. After a 3 hour wait, finally by 11:30, Viji sister came to say that Dr. Haridas will see me inside the operation theater where he had been busy since morning.
I follow her down the lobby. Dr. Haridas was standing in the corridor vehemently venting at three of the administrative staff for their lack of due diligence in the ordering of some equipment. It is amazing how much this man manages to pack in a day. The staff were doubly bend down under the pressure of the verbal vitriol. Once in a while, one of them will attempt to mumble some feeble excuse, only to be decisively disproved by the doctor.
He saw me, dismissed them and came over. In the 10 feet that he walked from where he was scolding the staff, he transformed from the strict stentorian administrator to the authoritative, reassuring physician. Did I already say how much amazed I am by this man, a veteran of 60,000 surgeries?!
"I don't feel any pain now, doctor," I told him when I had lied down. It was true. I had almost no pain while lying down. Sitting, standing and walking brought the pain back.
"You won't. I have made very narrow vertical incision. Very good. There is no swelling. There are no stitches to be removed. I will leave the bandage on. Come back Monday morning and we will take it off. Just make sure you don't get it wet."
"But doctor it is difficult to use the toilet with this...."I kvetched
"That you have to adjust and manage for two days. I cannot make you a new hole for that" he laughed. Dr. Shyam and Dr. Suresh Babu joined in.
"Sister, get him the discharge papers and remove this catheter needle."
I folded my hands in an earnest, heartfelt, humble, honest Namaste. What I have been doing with my life appears enormously inconsequential compared to what this man does day in and day out!
Doctor decided he had a couple of more minutes to spare. "What are your plans now, Arun?" He sat next to me on the bed. I told him the few assignments that I plan to juggle. "Wasn't there something about marriage?" he said with a doubtful expression. "It was my sister's, Sir, you couldn't attend because you were out of the country at that time." "Ah yes" he said remembering.
He shook my hands and went back to the operation theater.
To attend to misbehaving organs. To save more lives. To make more lives better. And to unknowingly inspire some like me to be better individuals and count our blessings.
Thanks to the half-hearted shaving job she had done, the removal of the plaster that had secured the catheter needle was needlessly painful. I remembered Aneesha sister who had done a spectacular job with the removal that time, that too despite the needle having been inside for three days. Aneesha sister had visited the room in the morning as well before going beginning her duty. "Chettan ippo weight kuranjapozha kanan onnu koode nallathu,alle uncle" (Brother looks better with the weight loss, right uncle?) she had said.
When we mentioned this comment to Amma who came to pick us up, Amma teased, "Chettanu fans koodi varunallo" (Brother is getting more fans!). Then she seized the opportunity to fire a salvo that had long been overdue. "Oru kalyanam kazhichirunengil ee paadu valathum undayirunno" (If you had gotten married, all this trouble wouldn't have been there) meaning a wife would have taken care of me instead of the both of them.
Valid point and I would have been willing for a serious discussion on the matter if Amma hadn't tripped over herself with an intensely narrow minded statement that followed. She said someone had told her that there are very caring Menon girls available in Kochi that would make suitable brides for me. Both the caste and the "slave" role angle in one fell swoop in a single statement. I didn't want to have a discussion anymore.
We receive the discharge statement and realize that Dr. Haridas hasn't charged for the surgery. We feel bad. I wonder if it is because of my quip in the ICU about draining Amma's account. I resolve to take care of it on Monday.
The drive back home makes me uncomfortable. Numerous good souls on the road point to us that one of our doors is open. We halt to rectify. Mujib calls from Jeddah to ask about my disappearence from the facebook world. I update him.
A light lunch quickly gulped down. Luckily bowel movement. Since the bandage is much bigger and heavier this time, I am precariously balanced on the commode. The toilet paper is pressed into service again. Achan supervises from outside. I remember reading somewhere that women in some village sit around in a circle exchanging gossip while defecating. Achan thinks it is from O.V.Vijayan's masterpiece 'Khasakinte Itihasam'. I think 'Chintha' Ravi's travelogues could also be the source.
A low pressure system above Kerala begins to rain. It would continue to form the constant background to my pain during the weekend. By evening, intermittent fever. At night, I need a Crocin to curb the fever once and for all. Amma sleeps on a 'rajayi' on the floor in my room. Achan sleeps on the main hall outside. I have put them through enough for two life-times. Amma joked that Achan might have been destined to have another boy in his life and is going through all the caretaking motions again. Truly, that is how dependent I have become.
Since the bandage shouldn't get wet, Achan wipes me with a hot, wet towel in the morning. When he squats to wipe my toes, I fight back my tears of gratitude lest they fall on him. I have gotten better over the days in controlling my emotions.
Weekend newspapers and Tavernier keep me company. So many stories to note down. Soon.
Having back to back hospital stays and painful episodes, I am beginning to realize that the "world" is simply the attention I have available to spare after attending to myself. If I am in pain or intense physical need, the "world" indeed disappears.
It is only after internal contentment that external clarity can emerge. If there is any inner disturbance, the 'world' perceived ripples with that disturbance. Hats off to the men and women who have managed to maintain clarity and all-encompassing vision even at times of physical discomfort.
Now, from this personal observation, I wonder if the structure of languages themselves reflect such a "disturbed" world view. This might be true both in the broad context of an entire culture/society that is constantly afflicted by some trauma say flood/hurricane/rape/infertility etc and also in the context of each individual while he or she acquires the language and consequently the personal world view. Will the language that evolves in such a society or the vocabulary of such an individual be skewed?
I only wonder because one of the fundamental lessons I have reacquired is that it is impossible for me to speak for others, in a psychological or spiritual sense. The best I can strive to do is to empathize with their physical pain.
By Saturday noon, I am scared that the bandage is creating chafing wounds. Our neighbor doctor uncle visits couple of times during the weekend. He is happy that the hernial sac has been surgically removed. I tell him about the pain and tightness of the bandage. He advises me to use large quantities of cream to prevent all possible skin damage. "The skin there is already corrugated, so the pain will be more than usual".
The abundant slathering of Sauve moisturizer twice a day following that advice made this probably the sweetest smelling weekend of my life!
Media drums up fear about Mullaperiyar dam collapse. It is accentuated by the continuous rain. Rain forces the first harvest of red spinach from the backyard because the wet, heavy leaves stooped the plants. Great taste of homegrown vegetable. Even the sickly long bean plant managed to deliver one bean. That too was added to the lunch.
It has been three weeks since I visited the backyard.
It has been the same duration since I had been upstairs, where the books and the gods, I would like to think, though they have each other's company, await my return.
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