A Patient Dairy -- Part I

The nauseous fumes of disinfectant waft towards the bed from the open bathroom, as a premonitory sort of welcome to the new inhabitant. Me.

I am in Sundaram Medical Foundation, admitted as an in-patient for the "excision" of my "pilonidal sinus cavity", a cavity between my spine bone and my pelvic girdle in which a few foreign particles saw a chance to make a comfortable home. This, of course, caused the doctors to shake their heads sadly..."Surgery is the only option, I'm afraid".

Even I'm afraid. I have always been scared of hospitals. The impersonality, the starched uniforms, the grave countenances, the stuck-on smiles of the nurses, the grim faces of surgeons..brrrh..hosptials give me the shivers.

The room was on the second floor, directly below the terrace (which made it unbearably hot), and looked out into a petrol bunk. I know, because I looked through the window. I had to keep it open, steeling myself to the thought of mosquitoes making merry, to combat the heat.

We have got to get this room changed.

I opened the Agatha Christie, and started reading.

Dinner came at eight. Three idlis, sambar and pudina chutney. I have a rather voracious appetite and I glanced sadly at those idlis. My mistake, because they were rather filling. A very good canteen the people at SMF run.

At around ten, a young, jolly, chubby-faced junior surgeon paid me a visit.

"How are you, da? (Yes, he really said da) We're thinking of cutting you up at 10 tomorrow. Don't worry, it's a piece of cake. (piece of flesh??) And oh, don't eat anything from now on. Ciao!!"

My operating surgeon, of course, walked in a few minutes later and glared at me, (not maliciously, of course, he just had the habit of glaring at everyone) saying very little, but confirming that he would operate at 10 in the morning. The nurse, meanwhile, was searching for the right vein in my left hand. She found, and pushed in the IV line. The doctor left, after glaring at me once more. The nurse measured my BP, and left.

Drip.

Drip.

One more Drip.

This room is unbearably stuffy. Never knew Annanagar was this hot at night.

Some more drips.

I put down David Morell's Nightscape, and close my eyes, plunging my psyche into a troubled sleep

Drip.