THE STRANGER IN MY HOME
  • Home
  • Vignettes
    • Encounters
    • Events
    • Experiences
    • Epiphanies
  • Stories
  • Fables
  • Translations
  • Miscellany
  • Now/Then

now  /  then

blogs and blends

Being All Right

12/25/2018

2 Comments

 
Pauline was a young nurse, Joanna slightly older, both with years of experience.
 
They said in unison, “You will be all right.”
 
It was a well-meant word of reassurance. I tried hard to find some comfort in my unease.
 
I had gone earlier to an optometrist for a normal refraction testing. One look and an ominous frown marked the young doctor’s placid face, “You are about to lose your right eye.”
 
He quickly called a retina specialist and I heard him drop the word “emergency.” I was rushed to the specialist who barely took a glance before saying, ”The retina in your right eye is detached and the condition is serious.” I heard the word “emergency” a second time as he called the hospital to arrange an immediate surgery.
 
Now I was in the hands of Joanna and Pauline, who took my weight, height and pressure and kept dripping drops of caustic liquid in my eye. My shirt and trouser had already been switched to a floral-design cotton gown and a long needle inserted in my left arm.
Picture
​A tranquilizer had nearly calmed me for the oncoming ordeal when came a shock. A young, boyish-looking person, whom I would have taken for a hospital orderly in training, turned up and said, “Mr. Nandy, I am Dr. Linden, your surgeon.” Heavens! This was my highly experienced, brilliantly credentialed surgeon! A respected practitioner, he looks like a recent college graduate.
 
I was wheeled into a mammoth operation theater, a team of doctors and nurses introduced themselves, and I meekly explained how my name is pronounced while they strapped me to the gurney and fixed my head with tapes. More drops, some anesthesia, more tapes, and finally some opaque stuff on my eye.
 
I have gone through unpleasant medical procedures before and have learned a trick or two. When I am immobile in a position and can do little else, I simply make the best use of the time: I go into meditation. I sense calm, I feel I am making a good use of my time, and I certainly experience less pain or discomfort.
 
The anasthesia is local and I can hear the operating staff talk. I can hear the surgeon tell his assistant, “Let’s over to the other side,” and, more interestingly, a nurse talk of her vacation in the Bahamas, “The warm sand felt quite wonderful on my bare feet.” She might have followed with something more salacious, but I returned to my practised rhythm of breathe-in, breathe-out. I felt calm and assured, no matter the outcome.

Picture
​The surgeon later told me the tear in my eye was extensive. That must have been why the procedure took longer than usual, over an hour. The idea of sucking out the vitreous material in my eye and pumping in gas sounded daunting when I read it in advance, but the process – with the presence of a youthful but confident doctor and serene, kindly nurses –seemed unexpectedly benign.
 
I was wheeled back to my alcove by a slender, attractive nurse. The anasthesia notwithstanding, I knew my mind was in good shape as I kept wondering how she looked with her hair flowing, without the constraint of a shapeless hospital cap.
 
Lina, my daughter, came to retrieve me, and I instantly spotted her look of shock. With a massive bandage obscuring half my face, anybody would be excused for fearing she had encountered Frankenstein’s monster. A stern-faced nurse gave me my discharge instructions: no aperitif (just what I needed then), no shower (the thing I most wanted), the lightest of meals, and, worst of all, three days of keeping my head constantly down. This was worse than the worst punishment any school master had ever dealt me. I consoled myself with the thought that it was symbolic of the way most people, especially most women, seem to spend their whole life: they keep their head down and do whatever others expect of them.
 
A week has since passed. The bandage is off, but the right eye still sees little. Vision, I am told, will take longer to return, if I am lucky. People may be in a quandary to decide what wacky kind of an alcoholic am I that I can maintain a normal white left eye while my right eye is blotched and blood-red. I suspect I might look even wackier were I to don dark glasses during these dark wintry days in Washington. Whatever my ghastly appearance, I can now stand up and look around and see the world – and not, as it seems, with the most of mankind, keep my head down.
 
That is possibly what Joanna and Pauline meant when they said that I would be all right.
2 Comments
Abhijit Mukerjee
12/26/2018 05:24:11

Wish you a rapid recovery . Lama.

Reply
Ashok Chirayath
12/30/2018 16:52:11

Hallelujah, Manish.

Reply



Leave a Reply.

    Manish Nandy

    Writer, Speaker, Consultant
    Earlier: Diplomat, Executive


    Archives

    January 2022
    December 2021
    October 2021
    September 2021
    August 2021
    July 2021
    January 2021
    December 2020
    November 2020
    October 2020
    September 2020
    August 2020
    July 2020
    June 2020
    May 2020
    April 2020
    March 2020
    February 2020
    January 2020
    December 2019
    November 2019
    October 2019
    September 2019
    August 2019
    July 2019
    June 2019
    May 2019
    April 2019
    March 2019
    February 2019
    January 2019
    December 2018
    November 2018
    October 2018
    September 2018
    August 2018
    July 2018
    June 2018
    May 2018
    April 2018
    March 2018
    February 2018
    January 2018
    December 2017
    November 2017
    October 2017
    September 2017
    August 2017
    July 2017
    June 2017
    May 2017
    April 2017
    March 2017
    February 2017
    January 2017
    December 2016
    November 2016
    October 2016
    September 2016
    August 2016
    July 2016
    June 2016
    May 2016
    April 2016
    March 2016
    February 2016
    January 2016
    December 2015
    November 2015
    October 2015
    September 2015
    August 2015
    July 2015
    June 2015

    RSS Feed


    Categories

    All

Proudly powered by Weebly
© Manish Nandy 2015  The Stranger in My Home