Appendicitis first hand – 2

(… Continued from here )

The next  morning I was woken by a fellow who seemed like a barber. He wore gloves as well as a mask and sounded repeated promises of safety while he discharged his duties. Yes, he just shaves around, from bed-to-bed and his work might alter your gait in a week. Not exactly a dream job!

The pre-operative room was better equipped. The surgeon visited with the same beaming face. I felt a mild paan-masala smell arrive with him. And soon the anesthetist followed.  I walked into  the OT after 15 minutes. It seemed like my wife was showing hers thumbs from behind a glass door down the corridor. It was chilling cold there. Once on the bed – they handed over a pipe gushing warm air into my blanket to comfort me from the chill. They injected something, and I do not remember even 30 more seconds.

… Slight pats to my cheek awakened me. The anesthetist. My eyelids were heavy, and my body heavier. “Oh its done!”. I tried vomiting twice, in vain. The jerk pained my lower abdomen. There was nothing inside my stomach to chuck out. In my jagged train of consciousness I could remember: a series of vain vomiting attempts, a series of consolations from the nurse (… another one – but Mallu and incorrect Hindi being common … ) , some cool fluid injected down my IV incision in my hand, a beeping sound that seemed to track my heart beat – (or was it someone else’s?), a couple of men dragging my roller bed, a sudden change of ambient temperature, stretcher being dragged to a lift , two more vain vomiting attempts, a puzzled and shocked old woman in the lift,  a transfer to a bed holding me inside the bed sheet from both ends, a man reading jokes about “Ziddi” Jaats, one of those painful Hindi soaps playing its signature tune loud on TV, and me shouting at a nurse – I needed a cooler, quieter room – a single room ….

….. My wife and daughter visited me shortly by my bed side. My wife recounted how in the guard at the gate described a strange rule according to which my 2  year old could not be taken in to the hospital to visit anyone. Mohar being alone, that meant she had to leave my daughter waiting outside for her. A mild chide had helped – I hear ….

 

…. I hate the word intramuscular. They  riddled my butts with painful painkillers, and made sure I had problem sleeping on any side, or my back. And I already had 3 punctures on my tummy. To make me sleep they added  a topping of a sleep inducing one. I discovered that Relativity helps, I used to hard pinch some part of my arm, to balance off the pain of puncture.With continuous fluids and injected to sleep, pressing a remote at midnight would bring the nurse in, but to take me to the bathroom to relieve myself will need the Sati-Savitri to call housekeeping – another 5 min of wait.

The night was long but I could feel myself lighter every time.

( … continued  here … )