As I walked into the pristine white halls, I was quite excited about the surgery coming up. You might call me crazy, and I might as well be, but I always wanted to what it felt like to go to sleep and wake up to find a change in yourself. Honestly, not the greatest experience of my life, but we'll get there in time.
I was prepped up for surgery. It wasn’t a major surgery, I
had some sinus issues and as the doctor had explained to me before, all I
needed was to get some excess flesh and bone removed from my nose and all would
be well and good. The causes for the surgery were the major headaches caused by
the sinus problem. I was given a very airy gown that left me feeling a little
uncomfortable. Donning it on, I lay on the bed prepared for me. My vitals,
blood pressure and all were checked and I was ready for surgery.
As I was wheeled into the operation theatre, I remember
trying to take it all in before they put me to sleep. I had always wanted to
know what went on behind these doors, all the drama and the clichés along with
those numerous stories. Pretty soon I was told to start counting backwards and
before I knew it, I was asleep.
The effects of the anesthesia started to wear off and I
clearly remember feeling that something wasn’t quite right. I didn’t have
control over any inch of my body and I was thrashing around on my bed like I
was on an electric shock. I remember the nurses and assistants holding me so
they could inject me with some medicine and as my body relaxed I slipped back
into unconsciousness. This, ladies and gentlemen, was a seizure. Now I might not
have done justice in explaining it, but watching your own body thrash around
like a fish out of water and having absolutely no control over it is one of the
most helpless and painful experiences one can think of.
Next, I woke up to the voice of my father and his lips
against my forehead. Before I could talk back to him, my father being one of
those who can’t witness a recovery from any surgery, left the room and sent my
mother in to wake me up and listen to what I have to say.
The next few hours were a drift between sleep and
wakefulness. The bandages on my nose were changed regularly by the attending
staff. I was given a few things to eat and all was fine until we all noticed
how the bandages just kept getting soaked in blood a little quicker than the one
before. The blood flow accelerated to a point where a three inches thick
bandage would soak up blood completely in seconds.
Naturally, the red bandages, my continuously yellowing face and
me brimming close to the state of unconsciousness worried my parents and after
several discussions with the attendants, the doctor was called. Apparently,
according to the doctor, me losing buckets of blood was no big deal, ’Happens
all the time!’ he says. And from the look my father gives him it becomes
obvious that nobody cares if it happens all the time, it just HAS to stop. So the
doctor inserted a peck in my nose. A detailed explanation of what a peck
exactly is. It is a long strip of thin but really hard and strong bandage like
thing. Which, when inserted into the nose, goes straight up to your brow bone
and feels like its in contact with your brain.
This painfully cruel procedure was followed by a short
period of blood staunching. My parents calmed down a little and I noticed my
vision going muddy. i dragged my hand to my bedside stand and tried to clean my
eye with a tissue. Watching me move, my mother turned around to face me. The doctor
had already left by this time since he was, ‘Oh! So busy, doing his rounds!’ That
was when I saw my mother look at me and lose all color; she was driven straight
into her panic mode. So guess what made her go all crazy? I was bleeding out of
my eye.
Suddenly I had the entire ward’s attention. The doctor was
called again and before I could utter a single syllable to my mother and try to
calm her down by telling her that I was fine, (I don’t really know if I was.) I
was propped up in a wheel chair and wheeled back into the operation theatre. I have
to say, it wasn’t so exciting going there the second time in a day.
I remember feeling mildly irritated when they kept wiping my
face with a bloody cloth. Now I realize it might’ve been my vision that was
bloody. Anyway, I was put to sleep the second time in a day and again, I woke
up with a seizure.
After that I was shifted in a private room where the nurse
pulled up regularly for checkups. I gradually improved in terms of blood flow. The
following day the doctor came in to see how I was doing. At least that’s what I
thought until he told me he was there to remove the two pecks he had inserted
in my nose on my second trip to the operation theatre. So he did that and it
felt like my brain and eyes would follow those wretched pecks but thankfully,
they are still intact. The process caused me to throw up whatever blood was
left in my throat and it was not a very pretty site.
After that there wasn’t much left for me to do at the
hospital so I was discharged and sent home. This doesn’t mean all is well now. I
still suffer from the remnants of that disastrous day. My nose blocks up
unexpectedly from wounds that didn’t heal. I can’t cry without blocking up my
nose for an entire day and along with brushing my teeth regularly I have to
follow a routine that includes unblocking my nose daily.
I don’t write this in order to show-off. (Ok, maybe I want
to show off just a little) But I write this because this experience taught me
that I cannot always trust everyone, that I should not rush into decisions that
require time, that I cannot truly comprehend how my choices today will shape my
tomorrow. I learnt that even when I have prepared for things it doesn’t mean
that they will turn out right, sometimes they will take the wrong turn for no
reason at all. And that for the life of me I cannot always decide which
decision is bigger or smaller. All that is left to say is don’t rush into
decisions and situations because you might not like what you are left with.
0 comments:
Post a Comment