November 14, 2011-November 19, 2011
I was rather upbeat when Aneesha sister, her assistant and two other sisters, both named Soorya, came by for the morning check up.
The day of discharge.
Blood pressure had always been normal.
Blood sugar had dropped to non-dangerous levels.
Final dose of IV antibiotics.
"Valare upakaram Aneesha sistere" (Many thanks, Aneesha nurse) I told her as she pulled out the final butterfly needle.
"sisterinte naadu evideya?" (where are you from?)
"ivide thanne, poojapura. Ente achan Reserve Bankila" (here only, Poojapura, my father works for Reserve Bank)
"ammayum avide thanne" (so does my mother)
"sherikkum" (really?) she smiled wide, "athanu njan auntye evideyo vachu kandittund" (that is why I felt like I had seen her before)
"entha sisterinte achante peru? (What is you dad's name?)
"Skaria" (Zach-man) "adutha varsham retire aakum" (He will retire next year)
We promised her that we will ask Amma if she knew Skaria as soon as she arrived in the morning.
"Chettan ini enna thirichu Americayil pokunathu?" (When are you going back to the US, brother?) she asks
"Udane pattillalo" (Can't do it immediately, can I?) I joke
She smiles again.
"potte, chetta...potte, uncle" (Bye, brother...bye, uncle)
Dr. Haridas got caught up in the extrordinary rush at the Out-Patient division, it being a Monday. He couldn't make it to the room till 11:30am. Dr. Manoj was on leave with a fever. So there was only Dr. Shyam to assist him on the rounds and at the OP. Sister Shyja rolled the medical cart in. I lie down, relieved that the bandage of 48 hours is going to come off.
"Give me scissors," Dr. Haridas holds out his right hand. Sister Shyja hands him a small scissor.
He looks at it, "Not for my mustache!" his voice rises. He throws it back. It lands with a clang sound on the lower shelf of the steel cart. "Do you expect me to cut off this bandage with those tiny scissors?" Sister Shyja shrinks in terror. "Give me a blade." He picks one up from the cart and cuts the entwined support of the bandage. He takes it off and hands it over to Dr. Shyam. Surely remembering the good doc's advice to sister Divya two days back about holding the removed catheter, Dr. Shyam accepts the bandage gracefully with both his hands and carries it to the dust bin.
"Wonderful," Dr. Haridas says, "the swelling has considerably gone down. Turn your head and cough. Excellent. Excellent" When he had bandaged me two days ago, he had mentioned the possibility of fluid build up in the scrotal sac. "I might have to aspirate it with a needle" he had said. So this was a moment of big relief for me. There wasn't going to be a needle.
My cousin underwent hernia surgery at a different hospital few years ago. His dad, i.e my uncle, had passed away in the 90s. Post surgery, my cousin was never bandaged properly. He had fluid built up in his scrotal sac leading to high fever. This time he had the better sense to come to Dr. Haridas. Earlier he had shied away because he (only 20 years old then) didn't want to talk about his problem in the open room OP. Dr. Haridas had to conduct another surgery to drain the fluid. "This young man's dad was like my own brother," he had instructed the staff at that time. Cousin narrated this to me when he visited with his mother on Sunday.
It pained me that he had gone through all this without having a father's care.
Dr. Haridas turns to Dr. Shyam, "Discharge papers kodutholu. Oru three days antibiotics. 10 days fibotab two per night and then 1 month vitamins" (Prepare the discharge papers. Prescribe three more days of antibiotics. 10 days fiber supplement two per night and vitamins for a month)
He turns to me, "kurachu diet okke sradhichu weight kurakkanam. two weeks nannayi rest edukku. Underwear medicho?" (Manage your diet a little and reduce weight. Take good rest for two weeks. Have you bought the underwear?) He had said couple of days ago that there was no way he will discharge me unless I walked out wearing tight tightie-whities.
No more boxer shorts for me. It's going to be either briefs or jockstraps.
In fact, my preference for boxers had led to much of the aggravation of the hernia. "You need to always wear supports. The old Indian 'langotis' are the best. But they are a hassle while going to the bathroom. The more you leave things for gravity, the intestine will descend through the defects."
That's solid advice for all parents who have young boys or those who will have them in future.
As he opens the door and leaves, he tells Amma who has been standing outside, "He has done very well. Excellent. I will see him next week." All three of us give him a namaste. He waves us bye and moves to room 208.
Within half an hour, we receive the laminated discharge summary that contains my diagnosis, all test results, surgery outcome and prescribed medication dosages. A two sheet elaborate bill is attached. The three big amounts are the surgery itself (Rs. 15,000) as expected, the anesthesia and antibiotics (Rs. 8000 + Rs. 8000) and the room rent (Rs. 7200). The total cost including all the medication comes up to one third the average cost for the same procedure (without hospital stay) in Texas.
A suggested diet sheet was also attached. The previous day a dietitian and her junior trainee had visited in the afternoon. She rattled off a suggested diet as if she was reciting a poem learnt by rote. Each time one of us interrupted, she would break out into a smile, talk in a regular voice but then take a deep breath and go back to her recitation, singsonging the list of foods I can have at each of the meal times. She looked relieved when she climaxed into "Dinnerinu randu chapathi, mixed vegetable curryum, urulakizhangu mathram ulla curry padila, oru piece chickeno, fish curryo aakam" (Dinner two chappatis, mixed vegetables curry, any curry with only potato as ingredient is a no-no, one piece chicken or fish curry can be had)
I was so enthralled by her delivery that I paid no attention to the content of her speech. So I was happy to get it all in writing during discharge. Her apprentice did not bat her eyelids while listening closely to the narration. I am sure once she herself majors and becomes a diet specialist in her own right, she will repeat the same musical rendition of healthy food regimens.
In the bill, the dietician consultation was charged Rs. 150.
Divya sister stops by with another sister as we finish packing. I think she brought that other sister over to show her the most sensitive specimen of a patient they have ever had. I tell her that my left hand is still sore from the needle removal. "Uppu vellam kondu choodu pidicha mathi" (Massage with warm salt water) she suggests. "Sherikkum vellam kudikanne Arune, ee samayathu constipation undavane padila" (Drink plenty of water, Arun, you shouldn't get constipation during this time) she gives one final advice.
"ningal ellarum koode enne avashyathinu vellam kudipichalo" (All of you have made me drink enough water already) I thanked her wholeheartedly.
Baby steps down the ramp to the pharmacy to pick up the medicines. Amma said that when she left the bank in the morning to come pick us up from the hospital, Aneesha sister's dad had run up and met her at the parking lot. He works as a security officer in the bank.
Amma drives extra carefully back home.
It has been five days since I left the hospital.
Numerous visitors.
Good wishes from around the world.
My stooping posture has disinclined towards a more erect form day by day, sleep after sleep. It'll be a few more weeks before I have the guts to check on the other erections.
Once in a while, I feel fleeting painful sensations in the abs.
While trying to lie down and getting back up, if my action is not slow enough or if I stretch a little too much, there is the feeling of some wound inside, next to the bellybutton, tending to open. But this too has been improving rapidly. Neosporin ointment is being applied religiously twice a day to the stab wounds. I am due for a check up on Monday.
I have been reading the newspapers in bed. 80% of students in the private engineering colleges in the state are failing. They are all now seeking jobs that need only 12th grade qualification. The "moral police" of citizens have beaten to death another young man in north Kerala. Tremors in the Idukki district have caused new cracks and leaks in the Mullaperiyar dam with its 140 ft deep reservoir!
Changambuzha's Ramanan and G. Sankarakurup's translation of Tagore's Geetanjali have been helpful in the healing. Priceless have been Vayalar hits playlists on youtube and the collection of around 200 Malayalam mp3s that Parikshith had downloaded for me before I left College Station.
Achan and Amma take turns to sleep outside my room just in case I need something at night. Achan has been bathing me for four days now.
Unrepayable debt for a lifetime.
No matter what I do and how much I do, in sum total, I would always remain a receiver.
Few years ago, I had read the complete works of Swami Vivekananda at the peerless Evans Library of Texas A&M. One of his statements hit me like a sledge hammer and has always remained with me. Paraphrasing: "Never for a moment think that with your life you are going to somehow make this world a better place. All that has fundamentally happened with your birth is that bread got taken out of sombody else's mouth. All you can try earnestly is to offset that damage"
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