boJy

I have this uncanny knack – of getting into tight corners but somehow get the needed support to wriggle out like an eel. Though till date , none of them had me grinning sheepishly.

However, before the curtain comes down, there is this high drama wherein I go through the grinding mill of anxiety, fright, etc. starting a  biological war in me - in the form of  sugar & blood pressure, both enjoying the nail biting and nerve racking suspense that I am being subjected to.

By now, whatever is the predicament, I have become an expert in predicting its likely course;  it starts with an advancement, accompanied by a delay, fuelled with loads of anxiety, followed by a train of self-doubts, and getting dumped at the allotted tight corner. Despite my experiences one thing I could not guess was ‘who or how I  will be saved on that day?’

Getting into ‘the tight corner’ is not always by chance but turns out to be my own making. Keeping counsel to myself  is obviously not a component in my blood and as a result, people around me, waited for a chance to push me into that corner - may be for the sheer joy of it, or to get even with me. Unfortunately, these people are endowed with elephantine memory - vividly recall  my pretentious nature to be a writer, editor, publisher, investigator, or political, legal, economical & medical consultant (read opinion - dispenser), finally a handyman in the house.

This time around, the tight corner materialised in the form of blood pressure on a roller-coaster (diastolic competing with systolic) and my daughter in law was forced to ride along on it. In this instance, I failed miserably to read the pitch and was totally unprepared to take any evasive measures, so to say 'landed in a tight spot wearing a blindfold'. The last straw on the camel's back was my self proclaimed ability as a caretaker -in-residence.Yes, my acclaimed skill set was to be utilised at my son's residence!

It all started with  a wait , for about 6 hours , at the airport for the take off. Meanwhile I tried to  engage an airline staff  in a verbal duel . After loosing considerable patience, I challenged him to show the actual aircraft that would fly to the destination. That poor staffer was afraid to even  blurt out that  he was only manning the check-in counters.

This he managed to say only after being bombarded with another of my sarcastic question: “Is the flight being scheduled at least before the end of the day?” Unable to bear the agony any longer, he vanished through one of those innumerable doors the airport has thoughtfully provided, may be for such occasions.

What went according to plan on that day was the journey from the destination airport to the place of my duty. The family welcomed me, tried to put me at ease and let me alone for awhile, to find my bearings (light switches, coffee powder, shops etc.). The first two days were like the beginning of a long summer vacation, of a school kid, and went off  quickly.

The co-opted consultant doctor (my saviour with a stethoscope?) declared that the health symptoms of the roller-coaster rider is becoming a little complicated. The medicines administered proving ineffective,  the doctor decided to try and control it  under better medical care – hospitalisation. This pronouncement left  me to keep company with dozens of  tenterhooks and pace in the hospital corridor. 

The in-patient  too must have been climbing mountains of  tension & anxiety in the solitude of the observation room. We, the attending staff  (My son and I) waited in the lounge – anxiously looking at each passing nurse or doctor expecting a better turn in the inpatient's condition. Our faces, competing with each other, mirroring psychedelic emotions of concern, anxiety, fright and a host of threatening feelings. An occasional ‘sinking feeling’  in the stomach complemented the emotions in exercising the facial muscles.

Unmindful of all these happenings, another person was in an eager hurry to join us, almost  2 months in advance.

Did I not tell you in the beginning itself, though caught in a tight spot, angels weave their magic to get me away safely! Somehow the consulting doctor too might have seen the angel coming ; decided to intervene and facilitate that event as smoothly and safely as possible. Before,we the attendants-in-wait could say something, a team of doctors took it upon themselves to go for a finite resolution and just informed us – we need to act fast !

If you think that, I had an easy time keeping my own BP, fright, tension and suspense under check – you are far wrong. A new cycle with all these seasoned ingredients engulfed me once again. I could only guess the feelings of my son standing besides me. In fact ,I could see my own worried face standing next to me. Each one of us could hear the other’s thudding heart beats and silent prayers ! To doubly make sure that our prayers reached the correct destination, mental journeys were made in secret to those places, without letting the other person know it.

Upon the arrival of the much awaited person, I expected to meet with and get a hand shake. It was not to be so, as I was wait-listed, for the day at least. A pinch of salt was all that I could fall upon as a remedy for my disappointment. At least,  I wished to say hello to my daughter-in-law , who had taken all the precautions and endured the troubles to bring home the person. 

This important family member, who had the charge of the VIP member, took about 3 hours, to put in an appearance, like a weary international traveller coming out of airport, after a long wait at the Customs counter. The moment I saw her settling down, heaved a sigh of relief and felt the over stretched nerves beginning to relax.

The memory of those 180 minutes will never go away from my mind. My partner-in–waiting might have felt like spending 360 minutes in the lounge area. May be he was experiencing the effect of a generation gap!

The VIP arrived, swathed in a wrapper - tight as a bundle. May be a little tired, feeling for all the troubles his mother had endured, yet happy that he too could contribute his little might to the issue. Now, under the care of his mother, he had no other concern to worry about. His face was mirroring all the serenity in the world and was sleeping blissfully. 

Three days later my tenure as caretaker ended, when I could say hello to the very important person of the family. I never imagined that such a nondescript job title will put me through a juicer and end in boJy – bundle of Joy!

Yes, a grandson has arrived into our family, giving a new meaning to the phrase ‘bundle of joy’.

The surgical divide

Introduction:

We take many things in our life,  as available at our will or pleasure.This card house requires variety of glues to stay intact. This need will be felt only when an emergency comes calling to make us start counting our fortunes & friends. For both it might turn out to be an enlightenment! Can this experience be called pickling of nerves?

 Extreme experiences in life might give rise to the feeling that one is near or on edge of a precipice. This experience of being on edge differs from person to person and hence unforgettable and unique, as far as that individual is concerned. 

That over the hill experience can be described   like this: It is similar to an ace mountaineer, reaching the peak only to find the foothold slippery and getting scared of falling either over the peak or sliding back to the valley and yet determined to regain at least a toehold. 

The intervening period between the slip and the grip, and the experience of an emotional flux– is the state being on edge.

One such state of being scared and unsure is going under a surgeon’s scalpel, literally up to one’s neck, deep on a diet of anaesthesia, routed through the spinal column. Chest to cranium you are present and chest to toes you are immobilized like a stone.

Sensing a travel through unknown corridors, the demons of doubts and fears take control of the neurons. The brain, under seize, joins hands with these villains to generate nightmare after nightmare, struggling to take back its commanding role. 

Bathed in anaesthesia up to the chest, the patient starts experimenting with different version of fear psychosis. This process starts with a procession of gods, semi-gods and angels. The only doubt that remains unanswered is  "will I regain consciousness or slip into  coma?"

Now, the patient on the surgery table begins to see all the dark matters in the universe. Fear is such a powerful force and endows the patient   with special vision, to see even the dark matters, a feat impossible as per the laws of science! The patient has now become a full fledged citizen in the state of fright.

When all these things are happening on the surgical bed, another branch of science dealing with pure human emotions generates morbid thoughts, in the mind of an attending relative. The severity or intensity depends on whether one is a close relative or just a relative.

The sluice gates of the fluid bank get opened by moist palms, moistened lips with a racing heart ably assisting the process. The hospital floor suffers wear and tear; the flush in the wash room becomes tired.

The life threatening or severely inconveniencing malady gets corrected. The after effect of a surgery lingers on, not of anaesthesia, bothering the patient. Some get over it quickly and others carry it as a ghost from the past for a long time. May be these types can only forget things in instalments.

To describe the traumatic feelings, pre and post surgery, the best suited person is the person reliving the surgical trauma – words straight from the horse’s mouth.

The patient starts convalescing, testing the patience of dear and near with tales, liberally mixing them with horror, warnings and lectures in medical sciences. The negative impact these repeat recaps are capable of creating in others’ psyche, is simply forgotten.

Fearing a lesser stellar rating for the surgical experience, these recaps ,invariably tend to,  omit to mention the supporting role played by the one who stood by anxiously, outside the operation theatre!

This leaves the relative/attendant to recite the other side of the story; to whoever is willing to lend an ear needing a break from the previous one - less dramatically of course!

The attendant’s mind, under notice to churn out alternate scenarios, tries hard to cope up with a flood of improbable ideas as far fetched as the screenplay of a blockbuster. 

The attendant discovers that fear is a dipole and the lines of patient’s nightmares pass through his/her mind. The mere thought of the patient undergoing a surgical procedure is enough to reproduce the very same feelings and anxieties, strictly obeying the laws of magnetism!

Taking a small diversion, the procession of different set of gods, semi-gods and angels take to the streets of prayer, though the doubt – ‘will the operation end in success or cross the border into the no-man’s land – coma remains glued to the mind.

The attendant opens a register of friends & relatives who would come forward to donate a pint of blood, or chip in with a bundle of currency notes or a towel to cry into.

At the end the attendant feels whether the experience was worth the trauma?