Friday, November 09, 2007

joie de vivre

In keeping with the theme of my tryst with destiny...oops, diseases every 15 months, here is the story of what can be euphemestically termed as "an experience which has made me mentally stronger". It started off with typhoid one fine March morning in the year of 2005; a severe bout of jaundice followed last year and then some disease last month too long (Say X) to be committed to memory. In hindsight, I don't know what afflicted me . Not to speak of the various bouts of fever, cold (common and not so common), amoebiosis and you will begin to get the picture of quite an exhaustive list.

Each one has been an 'enriching' and enjoyable period of time where I have had to do nothing sans eat, sleep and of course watch Liverpool get beaten. They have been ominous too for if jaundice struck me on my 20th birthday, my first surgery courtesy Mr. X happened "at the stroke of midnight" of my sister's 16th birthday
as Nehru would put it. It has also enhanced my respect for the healthcare facilities in Varanasi. If jaundice made the docs feel that I was having a viral, Mr.X was diagnosed as a petty insect bite. If I were Sir Sunderlal, I wouldn't be visiting Sir Sunderlal Hospital any longer for personal healthcare.

Mr. X was the result of months of perseverance and sweat literally. It was some strange sort of fluid accumulation near my spine which didn't grant me the luxury of sitting, standing or sleeping. Life can be quite interesting in such situations when you spend considerable amount of time trying to optimize posture and pain. When the pain made me wonder whether it was an insect bite or an insect, I made the trivial mistake of visiting some King Edwards Memorial hospital in Mumbai during my Dussehra hols, a hospital which made me wonder whether we still lived in the days of colonialism. I have often believed that Government hospitals are hybrids between jails and asylums. You are held captive and finally you go insane. Much the same happened with me as I was operated upon without getting myself mentally prepared nor knowing about the status of the Liverpool game that night. Needless to say, the operation was an unqualified disaster and all it left me with was an ellipse with major axis far greater than the minor axis with a depth of 5 cms near the bottom of my spine. (I have been reading Geometry of late for CAT).

After two unsuccessful attempts in getting me to sit, my parents decided that home had to be the remedy for this. I didn't mind it too much for this meant that I was going to be able to fly business class at last though I was quite miffed at the choice of airlines.

I am still to fly by Kingfisher.

The flight was the most torturous two hours I had had. I wriggled myself into a ball on the seat and had at least 5 protective cushions. The menu was quite exotic but all I was supposed to have was 'cut fruits'. I tried hard to convince my parents that eating nothing constituted a significant drain of resources, but when pain becomes considerably greater than greed, you are forced to optimize better.


Trivandrum was funny because the doc felt that I didn't require any anaesthasia for my second surgery and I was smiling after my operation much to the dismay of my parents. I bet I woke up everyone in the hospital during that operation. Now this left me with a cuboid with length considerably greater than breadth and roundabout the same depth. Another week passed off in hospital in which I counted 103 injections when I was awake. Worse, the doc kept pulling my leg asking me to quantify my pain. My yells grew progressively shriller as a consequence.

Now, back to campus and the problems are much the same. Attendance, tests and assignments give me a feeling of deja vu. India and Liverpool continue to play poorly; Dravid continues to be treated badly and I am still lazy. But being able to stand, sit and sleep I guess is a considerable improvement. CAT has become an acronym for Come Another Time and I quite fancy my chances of becoming a medico if denied an engineering degree. My senses have dulled; my verbatim is just a fraction of my old self as you would have noticed throughout this post but I still for some inexplicable reason am back to my cheerful best. A word of thanks to all my friends who were with me through what was undoubtedly the toughest 20 days of my life. Meanwhile, I await my next tryst with destiny.