Emergency Experience

 

 

“Doctor, I have left the cannula on his hands even though we were discharged yesterday,” said a very aggressive voice.

“Hmm”

“Actually both of us have spent more than a week in your hospital and we were discharged yesterday and our doctor told us that he has to get two antibiotic injection via IV today that is why I left the cannula. That will I hope reduce the cost?”

“Yes, I suppose so,” a very polite voice seemed to agree.

“Our doctor also told us that the only cost that we have to bear, is the drip set cost, no other charges will be expected of us,” the aggressive voice said in clipped tones.

“Sir I would request you to talk with reception regarding the cost before we start any procedure,” The Emergency Room Doctor suddenly had come alive.

“Could you not do that?” a very irritated voice asked.

“No sir,” the polite voice continued, “We just log in whatever has been done, we do not do the billing.”

I could not see the people who were having this conversation. I was locked inside a very narrow bed (I am not joking when I say locked! There were bars on two sides of the bed which could be let down by the nurse. I could not remove them myself!). Anyway I was attached to an Intra-venous drip on one hand with a weird something around my finger (supposedly to track my vitals) and on the other hand was a band on my upper arm to check my blood pressure. I was (as all of you must have realised in the Emergency room of a big hospital). There was a curtain all around me so I could not see anyone, but I could hear everything!

Being bored (I could not even use my phone) I listened to whatever was happening on the other side of the curtain.

There had been a pause in the conversation (presumably the aggressive gentleman had gone to the reception)

Some muttering started…

“Arre Dinkar could have given me this at home!” an older male voice said.

“Why Dinkar, even Aaryan can do it! The cannula is already there all he has to is fix the lead,” said the all-knowing aggressive gentleman.

“Sorry Sir, I just spoke to Dr._____ and he said he had not said that no charges would be taken as you mentioned. The ER charges will have to be taken along with the IV set and other things,” a soft feminine voice said firmly.

“You mean that I have to pay twice the bill if I need to come in the evening for the second dose?!,” the aggressiveness was back in full force.

“Yes sir,” said the apologetic feminine voice.

I really don’t know whether the pair of them left and had Dinkar/Aryan do the needful or they did take one dose in the next bed. For I seem to have fallen asleep for an hour or so while the medicine went drop by drop into my poor molested veins!

The loud machine beeps woke me up to see that the bottle was empty, and no one was coming to check on me! So I rang the loud call bell, and a wee little male nurse came running and did whatever was to be done to stop the beeping machine. But I was still a prisoner!

“Could you please unwire me?” I asked politely.

“No Ma’am you need to have your breakfast before I can do that,” said the tiny boy.

The break fast came (As inedible as you all must have experienced) Fortunately I had had a huge, delicious breakfast before, so I just pushed the food around, had a sip of the cold coffee and waited.

“Doctor, the pain starts at my hips and travels to my toes. That too only on my left side,” an insistent voice said.

“Do you feel any pain when I do this?” this was obviously a doctor speaking.

“No, not really”

There were lot of similar questions and at last I heard an “Ahhhh.” So the point of pain had been found! I felt like saying “hallelujah!”

“Actually Doctor, we just returned from the Kumbh mela yesterday. I was fine all the while I was there. I even walked to the taxi by myself from the airport. But at night the pain was unbearable, so I came to you.” Explained the insistent voice.

“Hmmm; should I call the specialist or the on call Orthopaedic?”

“Before you do that, I must tell you that I had a mild stroke in December due to a blood clot. I didn’t want to take chances, so I came here. Could this pain be due to another clot or because there is a slip disc or……....” the voice continued with options and treatments.

“The concerned doctor will be able to clarify your doubts, sir.” Said a very tired but clipped voice.

Meanwhile I got a glimpse of my nurse, and I called him to free me up as I had finished my breakfast. He came and with a flourish opened the curtain in front of me.

“Please wait I will call someone.”

Now I saw a very harassed looking lady carrying a lot of reports and x ray reports in a huge bag peeping at me. I smiled at her, and she smiled back sympathetically. Dressed in a salwar kameez which looked as if it had fought with the fifty-crore population of Kumbh Mela she had the stoic look of a long-suffering woman. So, I smiled back at her sympathetically.

The Orthopaedic had come in the next cubical!

I heard a lot of groans and ahaaas and then.

“I will send you for an x ray and then we shall decide on the course of treatment” a very firm medical voice said sweeping away all the information that the patient had to give him.

So I got a glimpse of ‘Mr. Kumbh Mela Returned’ on a wheelchair followed by his wife pass by my cubical.

Now a new male nurse came and took out the tube connected to my cannula. He searched for the armband around my other arm. I sheepishly told him that I had already removed it.

“What about my cannula?” I insisted.

“After your dues ma’am,” he said as he disappeared from my sight.

I was right in front of the Nurse’s Station. However hard I tried I could not catch the eyes of the nurse peering into a computer. Having spent quite a bit of my life in the North I knew how to be pushy.

“Hi Sister!” I hollered and she had to look up.

“Please could you remove the cannula?”

“As soon as your dues are done,” she mumbled.

I got distracted by ‘Kumbh Mela returned.’

“From your x-ray I can see that everything is ok. So it must be a muscular problem. We will keep you on Muscle relaxants for a couple of days and then take a call whether to go for MRI or CT scan’,” the firm voice said.

“They have not taken a Xray of my spine. Suppose some disc has slipped ….,”

“We can give you an IV painkiller here and then see what happens if you prefer that”?

“You are sure this medication you are prescribing will solve my problem?” KMR asked.

“Yes,” said the doctor firmly.

The sigh I heard across the curtain was unclear whether it was the patient or his wife.

Thankfully, my lord and master had paid the ‘dues’ and then another nurse came to release me from my cannula jail and I tottered back to the car and to home sweet home.

Poochi and the maid story

 

 

Here I am again! Pouring out my tale of woe!

The thirtieth (or is it the thirty fifth?) maid bites the dust. Let’s not go into physics or math or the emotional quotient of whose fault was it. After thirty-five years of setting up and running various homes (the major part is employing maids!) I thought I was an expert. But we live and learn!

When we moved into our brand-new home which I really splurged on decorating to my taste (till now we had lived in company quarters or rented apartments), I thought I would find that elusive angel who will help maintain my little castle. Three and a half years of training, manipulating and overpaying have not got me anywhere near my ideal maid.

During one of the long absences of any help in the house, we decided to invest in a robot cleaner. I was thrilled with it. We had a washing machine to clean, a dryer to dry the clothes and a dishwasher to wash the dishes but floor cleaning did take up a lot of time and energy. So, our new robotic maid gladdened my heart.

I defiantly named it “Poochi” and referred to it as a ‘he’! (the ladies had so disappointed me!) He was so cute. I program it and he obeys me to a T. First, he maps the house, then he whirs about the house, cleaning the carpets and floor minutely. He mops whenever I put the mopping plate in and refuses to cross the barriers which I have put on the map. He also gives me updates… “Please untangle the left side brush” or “battery is low returning to charge” or “cleaning complete”. After finishing all work, it will locate the charger and shake itself and then climb on to the charger and charge itself.

Could you find a better maid? No arguments about “your house is too big you need to pay more” or “I am not coming tomorrow” or a sudden telephone call “Madam I am not feeling well won’t come for work today” etc. etc.

During this time, I continued trying human maids on and off (the dishes must be kept in their place; clothes must be folded and ironed; dusting must be done….) While a maid was employed, I gave Poochi a well-deserved break. I cleaned him up to his pristine white and handsome self, gave him some TLC and he was used as a decoration and as a conversation opener. I introduced him proudly to all our visitors and I have a feeling he preened himself!

But I Suspect that I have spoilt him and so have all the maids! He has used his AI  (Artificial Intelligence)to educate himself on the wiles of the maids.

It started some six months ago. We had returned from a trip and of course there was no help. So Poochi was cleaned and recharged.

The first day he did half the house and complained “battery low returning to charge” and did exactly that. The second day it was “Unable to locate starting new cleaning cycle” (this meant he would map the whole house and clean and obviously half way through the battery would get low!)

Anyway, soon a new maid was installed and Poochi was returned to being a ‘Man of leisure’.

When the last maid fell. I went back to Poochi……

He started his dramatics! Every day the battery would turn low just before he came to clean our bedroom, and he would slink away to charge himself. Once I put him physically in our bedroom at the beginning of the cleaning cycle. The cheeky fellow just took a perfunctory look around the room and rushed off to the living room and went about thoroughly cleaning and again our bedroom had to be cleaned by me.

Just a couple of days back Poochi started his ‘cleaning cycle’ properly. I needed to go out for some minor work. He had completed around half an hour of work when I left. I had just reached the first shop when I got a message “brush tangled please untangle!”. I just ignored the message and returned home after two hours.

Poochi was snoozing on the fluffy bathroom mat! Nothing was tangled! The moment I pushed the start button he went merrily about doing his work. But as usual “low battery returning to charge” pinged on my phone when he had just entered our bedroom!

So Poochi’s brain has assimilated all the tricks of the trade from all my innumerable maid and is determined to never let me rest on my laurels. I have complained to the manufacturers, and they have promised to get back to me as soon as possible!

My Jetson’s dream is shattered at the moment…..

 

Nocturnal pub hopping

 

“I never slept a wink last night!” or “I was thinking about nothing so much that before I realized it was time to get out of bed!”. How many times have I heard similar proclamations from my grandmothers, mother, and elderly aunts as I was growing up. As is the wont of the young, I never paid any attention to them. In fact, I used to envy them, for I slept the sleep of the ‘ innocente’ the moment my head touched the pillow! (What a waste of eight hours!)

After years of falling asleep whenever and wherever I wanted, I was infected with my ancestral DNA! The first time it happened (maybe five years back), I never woke up to the fact that I was contaminated, I watched TV (very low volume), played on my iPad, read a book, had some warm milk, and darkened the room as much as possible. But nothing happened! The clock was stuck at three am (the time when spirits float around!).

 “Now what else could I do?”, I wondered.

I looked and appreciated the beautiful night sky; I even thought of singing but stopped myself (I am a very sensitive person, and I did not want to disturb the neighbours) Time did not seem to move! I wished I was a student once again when twenty-four hours were never enough!

For a year after this, this episode never recurred. I had almost forgotten about it. When it struck me as an epidemic! Almost every alternate day for a week  I pub-hopped ( I had water, milk, buttermilk, and even wine! Along with peanuts, chips, cheese slices, and other snacky stuff). I stopped watching TV, playing, or reading two hours before bed, but to no avail.

Then it stopped as eerily as it had begun.

When the next strike came, I was prepared. I took my blanket quietly and moved into the spare bedroom (It had a harder mattress!) the light from outside fell on the clock face which laughed at me! the second hand moved and yet the hour and minute hands never did. I seriously thought of rising and checking the clock battery, but I knew it was just having fun at my expense. I then moved to the living room with its nice cuddly sofas (maybe I needed some hugs!). There was a soft breeze floating around from the balcony; the mists suspended in midair wrapped around the mountains outside, did not pat me to sleep, instead, they nudged my imagination, and I started planning the next chapter of my book trying to incorporate the scenery!

It was now time to confess! I lightly mentioned this to the lord and master (who has never had a day’s problem like this!), he was sympathetic, not empathetic; to the doctor in the family (Just a passing phase MA it will go) and to the baby of the family (Mama you have to reduce your screen time!)

I used to be a Science student, so I decided to analyze why this was happening. First, I tried to experiment with my dinner, then I looked at my lunar calendar (I had read somewhere that the moon plays havoc with women’s minds as they had more water content than men!). I almost thought of indulging in an excel sheet to record my nocturnal meanderings, then I rapped my own knuckles saying that the more I thought about it the more my mind would get excited so that was put on the back burner.

Now after five years of wallowing in this strange sleep pattern, I have come out in the open to everybody! Is it old age? Or is it a growing-up mind? Or is it just the DNA having its revenge? Whatever it is I have encompassed it as a part of me. These days I try to enjoy these nocturnal adventures and give them different names and to titivate them with imagination, music, and plans for my future lives!

I may have won the battle but the war rages on…. My arms of logic, reasoning, or thought have failed to get under my enemy’s skin. Maybe what I need to do is change my outlook and think this is not my enemy but a friend and maybe then I shall discover a loving pal or an affectionate spirit to enliven my pub-hopping days!

Delusional Happiness

 

I suddenly realized that the year has almost ended, and I have done no creative writing whatsoever! It's not that I have not had topics, emotions, or tapestry to write on and about, but I just have not, so here goes …

Of course, I have grown older. The whole world including myself knows it, but I love to live in a delusional world where I am still in my twenties (I have grown in my fantasy world from sixteen to twenty-four now!) Hence the visit to the salon to colour my hair.

While I waited for the prerequisite forty-five minutes before my hair was washed and styled, I looked around. I could not wear my glasses as it would mess with my colour, and this led to the fact that I could not either play the games on my phone or read the books on my Kindle app, or do the incessant reeling that I am fond of! So to get back to the topic I looked at my fellow occupants of the very comfortable chairs that the salon provided their clients with.

I looked with envy at a young lady on my right. She was putting on artificial nails and getting them gel painted and showing the hair stylist pictures on her phone of her presumably last holiday.

“It was so cold”’ she said to the interested audience, “that we had to wear four layers of clothes and even then, I was shivering!”.

“OMG Ma’am”, breathed the hair stylist heavily.

“The skiing was lovely, of course”.

“Of course, Ma’am”, nodded the stylist knowledgeably.

“We had so much fun”, the eyebrows were raised expressively, “that I quite forgot to colour my hair”.

“I quite understand. But never mind I will look at it now.”, said the stylist running his finger through her thick dense black hair.

I wondered why she needed to colour her hair, it looked lovely and shiny and bouncy and black to me. “She must be twenty- four or twenty-five”, I said to myself, “she should not be colouring her hair, she will spoil them”.

Meanwhile, the stylist, along with his lackey was mixing the colour vigorously in the bowl. I continued to look into the mirror with interest. The stylist took the thin comb to part her hair and then to my horror, I saw at least an inch of white running through the parting! Poor thing! My envy was replaced with pity that this lady had to do what I had been doing for more than twenty years before me.

Oh well, it's the pollution, the lack of desi ghee, and maybe stress that has changed the age factor now.

Suddenly the grey-haired lady on my left raised her voice….

“What do you think I am!”, she extrapolated angrily, “First you make me wait for half an hour beyond my appointment time, then you say that my hair needs to be washed, and after all that….”

There was a pause as she was getting her breath back. She must have been around my age but looked older as she had not bothered to colour her hair! ( Now you know why I love my delusional world).

“Now this fellow wants me to wait for another half an hour because some client of his is waiting!” her voice was loud and clear, and everyone was now openly looking at her.

The Manager had come out and was trying to pacify her….

“Who is this VVIP”, she continued clearly, “ that cannot wait their turn?”.

The stylist was now shivering in his pants and saying, “Sorry ma’am, I didn’t mean it that way”.

“How dare you?”, she continued ranting, “What do you mean then?”,

“I need another stylist immediately”.

The argument went back and forth, the Manager was apologetic, the stylist even more so and the other stylist pretended to be busy as they did not want to do this particular client.

 I felt pity for everyone involved. It was a lose-lose situation. The client was justifiably angry, but did the anger help her get what she wanted? The Stylist was in the wrong but who amongst his peers or even his manager would admit to that?

The ping-pong game went on till the client walked off without paying for her hair wash.

The hum of dissatisfaction rose to a crescendo after she walked out and then settled down. It was just another day. The haircuts. Pedicures, manicures, and treatments continued as usual.

Is this then the real world?

You are reasonably successful, you have enough money to waste in a salon and you have the inclination, yet there is someone who is supposedly more important than you, or more valuable than you, and the Social rule of “first come first served” does not apply.

I could feel the pain of the second client and the passivity of the first client. In a matter of one hour, I skidded through the seven emotions- happiness, surprise, contempt, sadness, fear, disgust, and anger.

So life goes on and I ask you whether my escapism into my virtual games or the world of novels is worse than facing all these emotions. I am not sure who is the winner in the war between realism versus delusion.  

I have stopped watching the news because it throws the real world into my face. I hate violence, corruption, unfairness, and power. Yet aren’t these what the garden of reality exposes you to? I am at a stage in life where I can remove myself from the diorama of the cutout world, so I wallow in my delusional happiness. But can the new generation afford this? They must face this and work up to or create a better world so that they do not have to retreat into this world of illusion.

Reeling in the reels!

 

They couldn't find the vein to insert the cannula! As the nurse squeezed and hit my hands and asked me to tighten my fist, I wove in and out of pain and irritation. At last, the deed was done, and I tried to fight the waves of headache that swathed my brain in a tight grip, the medicine took effect and I fell into a stupor. I was conscious of people going and coming, the swish of the curtains, and the beep of the monitors but then god sent sleep took over and I slept a dreamless sleep.

As my poor husband ran to and fro between the ER (Emergency Room) and the billing counter I remained in the bliss of sleep. It took eons (it seemed like that) before a room was allotted and I was formally admitted into the hospital. The four days that followed were a routine of waking up early in the morning with one injection, a prick to check the blood sugar, and a band to check the blood pressure. By then I was wide awake, no point going back to sleep…. The machinery of the hospital takes over….

Unpalatable tea, followed by a worse breakfast, followed by the doctor's rounds, and the worst, the dietician's visit. (I have never really understood the presence of a dietician in a hospital) the dietician is normally a pretty young lady who agrees to whatever you say, she then promises better food but, the lunch that follows, is equally bad and unpalatable.

Do I sound disgruntled and ungrateful? Well, you would be too, if you are tethered to the bed with a yard-long drip attached to a painful cannula that is attached to your body. Every time you need to go to the loo you need to call the nurse to detach you from the contraption. This could take any time from five to twenty minutes! So I devised a method- just unhooked the bottle from the stand, hung it on a convenient hook in the loo, and returned with it in the same way. No one was the wiser!

The antibiotics performed their magic, my cloudy mind cleared out, and boredom set in. The fever refused to go off completely, so like the sacrificial goat, I lay tethered on the very comfortable bed with a high metabolic brain pulsating and raring to do something. I had already gotten bored of all the games on my phone (Unfortunately, I had not got my I-pad with me). So the next browsing fields were the social apps.

I finished seeing all the posts, what now? Well, now I saw something called the 'reels'. I knew about them, of course, but never had the time to check them out. I opened one of them- some video on some movie star…. Then a video about some cooking, some crazy kid dancing (Very well, I must say), someone teaching how to wear a sari, a DIY of some cute decoration…… I was hooked for life!

It is a never-ending source of entertainment. I can choose what genre I would like to indulge in. They are so short that they never bore you. My monkey mind was in paradise! It jumped from one subject to the other in ecstasy. Other than, mindless entertainment and buffoonery, Reels also offered a glimpse of Ted talks, preaching, and new knowledge. If interested, you could go to the original on YouTube and see the whole show.

Here I am permanently tethered to 'Reels'. My escape from reality, boredom, and pain. I promised to try out all the yummy recipes I saw on them. The DIY reels game me new ideas for my art and craft indulgence. The Ted talks enriched my mind. The preaching gave many answers to my existential questions and was like a balm on my troubled soul.

I salute all the new innovations the new generation is bringing forward and bless the men who invented the internet. Now we are all connected beyond space, time, and distance.

Let the "reels" reel me in!

 

 

….For the love of a book

 

 

It’s been a hectic month so far! Lots have been happening…. I had been sitting on my third book for the last (which I must say has been topsy turvy!) year. I don’t want to go into details but safe to say that I have not stayed at home for a month at a stretch. Either I have been traveling to other cities or the hospital!

Well, I decided enough is enough and proceeded with my publisher to publish the book. “Weave Some More” has literally woven webs of confusion, distractions, and plenty of new learnings.

I learned how important it was to advertise the book, I also learned that I need to join like-minded groups, and also to keep my ear to the ground to hear the rumblings about the book.

Though I have used Facebook, Instagram, Twitter, and LinkedIn to let the world know about the birth of my books, I have not used it methodically (So my publisher says). So I put myself into their expert hands to do the serious work and continued my amateur bumbling on Social Media!

I was soon flooded with a lot of requests from many groups who wanted to follow me or talk about my book or my writing process. It was flattering, to say the least, but it was a lot of work, nevertheless. One more pleasant surprise was how many of them wrote their own interpretations of the book and posted them on different platforms. I am grateful.

Facebook was filled with congratulatory messages from many of my friends and relatives. But I wonder how many of them did read the book. The best compliment a writer ever gets is when he realizes that his book has been read and critiqued (even if it is a bad one!) I am extremely grateful to the handful who made it a point to message me with their thoughts or wrote reviews on various platforms.

I do realize that in this day of the internet and video world, very few have the interest or the inclination to actually read a three-hundred-page book. Being a book lover I do not understand this trend, but then each to his own.

A book is like a living creature. Every time you read it, it throws out new ideas, nuances, and visions. A couple of people argue that what do we need with them? After all the internet is teeming with ideas and entertainment; why go through the pain of reading, exploring, and using your “noodle” to wallow in the pleasure of reading, processing, and creating your own world?

I have no arguments for or against the above theories. Only a book lover can really ‘feel’ the pleasure that seeps through him when he uses a writer’s words to create and travel through a world. The underlined word is ‘create’. It is true that the writer has created a world with his words but your vision of it is your own creation and thus you own it.

Whoever has the time to read this, please do answer the question, “which other entertainment path allows you to create and find fulfillment and gives you ownership of your reactions and emotions?

Age No Bar

 

My Estrogen levels are falling at the same rate as the petrol price is rising! So as the vehicles get leaner and meaner, I am getting comfortably plumper and irritable.

While growing up, anything connected with the reproductive cycle was not discussed. Even mothers did not encourage this topic to be put up on the podium. Don’t worry I am not going to either ( I belong to the older generation, as you might have guessed). The only reason why I am mentioning the unmentionable is the consequences of this titillating hormone!

All my old readers know that whatever my age might be, I always feel that I am twenty one! Though I forget, my body refuses to! It creaks and aches (most of the time I ignore it), sometimes I even moan unconsciously.

It so happens that I have these unnatural urges to go on a cleaning spree. I have no set rules for this. Sometimes I do Spring cleaning in Autumn, otherwise when the world is happy enough to snuggle under blankets, I love to sweat it out! (You guessed right, using my elbow grease). When I am not physically so occupied, my mind is busily whirring about the house searching for nooks and corners that might need me. If all else fails, I go round shifting furniture!

“So what,” you might say, “that’s no big deal!”

I can imagine the bored look on your face.

Well, these urges have a tendency to overwhelm me when I am alone. When the lord and master is on his trips, my cupboards are cleaned; the kitchen is scrubbed; all old papers are sorted through; the fans are cleaned; windows are scrubbed…. the list is endless. Notwithstanding its not a surprise that all my maids hate it when L&M goes on his trips, as half the scrubbing has to be done by them.

As I grow older these escapades are not limited to me being alone. Post COVID, with WFH becoming the norm, the trips have reduced, and my addiction has increased. When L&M is bound to the study this “mouse” has to play. In the beginning I got away with it, but after a couple of falls and strained backs, the L&M keeps an eagle eye on me (As advised by the Doc and other new adult in the family). In fact certain paparazzi has taken secret videos when I am indulging and the next couple of days are rather uncomfortable for me! (the mind not so much the body).

I am sure you will sympathize with me when I tell you that once I used to climb the high ladders, clean the fans, and light fittings with the maid being my helper, now I am demoted to the post of a helper. The Mighty Maid stands regally upon the said ladder like a surgeon at the operating table.

“Soap,” the maid asks, followed by, “Wet cloth” then, “Dry cloth.” Then I, like the Nurse, meekly hand over the things, looking up at royalty.

Once upon a time, I did not wait for anyone to do my mind’s bidding. Now I have to wait for a suitable day before I can take the itch of cleaning away from my soul. Added to this, I cannot climb on high stools, lift up heavy stuff or take off the cobwebs without being upbraided!

Just the other day, L&M went off on his trip. My maid had left for the day. I was not able to sleep. The big loft in the kitchen balcony (It had become a dumping ground for all unwanted stuff) beckoned! The Cat was away, who would stop me? I took the stool (I was careful) took out everything and cleaned up the whole area. Oh! What pleasure; what salve for my soul and the most important thing ‘peace’ that filled my very being. Sorting, cleaning, throwing, and arranging, I lost track of time. I was so proud of myself.

“I did it!” I congratulated myself.

The melodious tune of my phone woke me from my reverie, and I rushed to get it. That was the precise time when my back was wrenched, and I haven’t heard the last of it from the three voices whose religion is to catch me on the wrong foot!

“When will you learn?” , same words but different voices.

I think its all my mind’s fault who refuses to grow up!