A Patient Diary -- Part III
Note: Better read these starting from Part I.
....12.40 is what strikes my eye first. The time on the clock on the wall in the operation theatre on the first floor in SMF in Annanagar in Chennai on this planet.
Relax, I don't think they operated on my brain.
The head nurse beams at me and says: "The operation is over"
I'll say. I am aware of a major pain in the a**. Really major. I try to turn on the bed, but learn excruciatingly that my present position is infinitely better, painwise.
They wheel me back to my room. Same way. L5, L4, L3.
I was just settling in when I found that I had been allotted another room. One that had become free. It was equipped with an AC. So, once again, I was lifted and wheeled to room 514.
I sinked into the new bed, very comfortable, and heaved a huge sigh. Everyone left.
Oh, I am forgetting about Mr. Drip. He came along, too. The IV stand in the new room was rather low, and Drip was hooked onto it. Mine, being a young heart, started pumping with ferocity. The blood from my viens rose into the IV line: the other way round.
My heart froze. My throat didn't. I screamed. The nurse rushed in. I pointed fervently to the maleficent IV line. She calmed down.
"Oh, that can happen", she says, coolly, and proceeds to walk slowly towards the IV stand and raises the bottle.
The blood goes back in and so does the glucose. I h.a.h.s again.
20 minutes later, to get my mind off the pain, I ask my father to get me Baldacci's Last Man Standing, and begin delving into it.
Coconut water arrives at 3 p.m. It seems that certain people experience nausea in their first meal after surgery, as a consequence of a reaction with the anaesthetic. The nurse was present, looking at me anxiously to see if I would puke violently. Well, I didn't.
So I graduated to mango juice, and then to a solid diet.
I eat the idlis, which again form the bulk of dinner. Sleep does not arrive, giving solace over pain, until the good doctor recommends a painkiller injection. That is a situation soon remedied by the nurse, and I drift off, only to awake at 3 pm with unbearable pain, which of course requires another poke of the med into my b***. I drift off, again.
....12.40 is what strikes my eye first. The time on the clock on the wall in the operation theatre on the first floor in SMF in Annanagar in Chennai on this planet.
Relax, I don't think they operated on my brain.
The head nurse beams at me and says: "The operation is over"
I'll say. I am aware of a major pain in the a**. Really major. I try to turn on the bed, but learn excruciatingly that my present position is infinitely better, painwise.
They wheel me back to my room. Same way. L5, L4, L3.
I was just settling in when I found that I had been allotted another room. One that had become free. It was equipped with an AC. So, once again, I was lifted and wheeled to room 514.
I sinked into the new bed, very comfortable, and heaved a huge sigh. Everyone left.
Oh, I am forgetting about Mr. Drip. He came along, too. The IV stand in the new room was rather low, and Drip was hooked onto it. Mine, being a young heart, started pumping with ferocity. The blood from my viens rose into the IV line: the other way round.
My heart froze. My throat didn't. I screamed. The nurse rushed in. I pointed fervently to the maleficent IV line. She calmed down.
"Oh, that can happen", she says, coolly, and proceeds to walk slowly towards the IV stand and raises the bottle.
The blood goes back in and so does the glucose. I h.a.h.s again.
20 minutes later, to get my mind off the pain, I ask my father to get me Baldacci's Last Man Standing, and begin delving into it.
Coconut water arrives at 3 p.m. It seems that certain people experience nausea in their first meal after surgery, as a consequence of a reaction with the anaesthetic. The nurse was present, looking at me anxiously to see if I would puke violently. Well, I didn't.
So I graduated to mango juice, and then to a solid diet.
I eat the idlis, which again form the bulk of dinner. Sleep does not arrive, giving solace over pain, until the good doctor recommends a painkiller injection. That is a situation soon remedied by the nurse, and I drift off, only to awake at 3 pm with unbearable pain, which of course requires another poke of the med into my b***. I drift off, again.
posted by Dispatcher | 21:35
1 Comments:
they seem have concentrated on ur ass ;-)
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