Anesthesia
My head was heavy, eyes were blurry, legs were still numb. I had lived and re-lived this inevitable third, and almost identical to two previous ones, surgical trauma a thousand times silently over the last fortnight during my sleepless nights and depressing days of wakefulness. I had just woken up from anesthesia. I felt like I had been to an alien world and now the truth of this world had clipped my wings and dropped me on a thorny rock. It took me a while to recollect myself and gather courage to reassure my physical existence. The attending nurse was busy doing her usual stuff at my bedside. Her very sight reminded me that I was taken into OT at 12 noon. So, it must be at least 10 p.m. I knew it was going to be an 8- to 10-hour long bloody and skillful play of blades, knives and needles on me.
“What is the time, sister?” I almost moaned in pain.
“It is 12 midnight sir!” She politely informed me.
I was right. Fate played leisurely on my body with the fullest use of its time potential. Great! No mercy, fine! I had no courage left to inquire about anything further. I had already succumbed to my fate. With this major operation, the balance of my surgical account started showing three to my credit. No questions. Bloody hell! Keeping shut is the only option left.
I stopped arguing with myself after realizing the worthlessness of my silent soliloquy and was getting ready to once again surrender to the residues of anesthesia, but a deafening, painfully heartbreaking cry pulled me back from going into my slumber. This was my proud third visit to ICU and I was well acquainted with, rather habituated of the gory mundane realities and shrill screams, yellings and sobbing of living human carcasses, also of the most unmusical blips and bleeps of the artificial lifeless life-saving instruments of ICU. But, this screech ran a shiver through my spine. It was No. 3. That is how nurses used to address patients in ICU.
She had pulled and thrown away her breathing mask and was gasping for air, perhaps for life, or maybe was trying to break the unbreakable shackles and be a free bird. Who knows! Whatever I could glimpse from the corners of my forcefully half-opened eyes was absolutely pathetic. She had urinated, excreted, and evacuated herself from every single os of her body. She seemed to be in her sixties, but she was so feeble, I might be wrong I thought. In these past three years, after my sudden unfortunate handshake with cancer, I have always wondered which kills faster — cancer or cancer treatment? As I see it, cancer kills the body, but its treatment kills life— don’t know how many can understand that difference! Unfortunately, one has to take up that journey to understand it in its totality.
The so-called chastity of the ICU was torn into rags. A crowd of doctors, nurses, relatives and whatnot was roaring at her, everyone with their own instructions. Ironically, every action of theirs seemed to be an honest pretension of trying to save her life. Poor chaps! I seriously wondered whether they could even realize that she wanted to go! The facility was in absolute chaos. The scene took me back to my childhood when we used to enjoy “maadari ka khel” on the road. Even in that personal and environmental distress, a faint guilty smile ran through my lips, and the very next moment I lost touch with my surroundings, though her painful shrieks still chased me. But I slowly drowned into the deep well of unconsciousness once again and her cries remained on the surface, unheard. What a pity! The most heart-rending cries often remain unheard. At least I felt so at that very moment.
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I am not sure who woke me up this time, the ward boy or those cries. Probably both!
“Sir, please get up, I have to give you a wash, the head surgeon will be on round shortly, he is very strict you see!” The ward boy requested.
So, it was 5:30 in the morning, I easily guessed. Of course, my wakefulness was slightly better this time, hence I felt my pains too. My hands instantly ran through the lower organs to check what the hell they did with me. Okay, so they took the minimally invasive approach as requested, rather suggested by me. Once again, a faint smile played on my lips, but this time it was a bit relaxing and satisfying.
The scene at No.3 seemed much more distressing this time. She was tossing and turning on the bed, literally jumping and jerking. The sturdy ICU bed seemed too weak to be able to resist her unexpected exhibition of strength. I could not understand even a bit of her language. A strange kind of hatred transpired through my thought process against the people who were putting up their best (at least they must have thought so) to rescue her life, ironically against her will. Being her co-passenger in a boat of life, completely devoured by cancer moths, I could conjecture that she was calling names to her rescuers, perhaps appealing to them to let her leave peacefully and quickly. But you know what, the material or medical advancement has gradually helped our ego reach a colossally inhuman state. The pitch and hoarseness of her voice made it more evident. Obviously, she had been crying the whole night continuously on full throttle.
A sea of emotions with a thousand waves of questions flooded my whole existence. Is that my future, if not now, maybe a bit later in life? (Yeah! I understand, it is almost everybody’s future at a certain age!) Is science a boon or a curse? (Sure it is a matchstick!) Should life be so elastic to be stretched to such an extent? (Probably yes, why not! After all, we have become so efficient in doing that, now we can stretch anything to any extent.) Why the hell do we cage a bird which wants to fly away? (Please understand, we are humans, we grow on the sufferings of others.) Why do we want to hold back someone who wants to leave, just because we have support of so-called advanced medical science? Why do we kill someone who wants to live, just because we have advanced biological and nuclear weapons? Have we not become so numb? Are we humans not always under the effect of anesthesia?
Perhaps, we humans have developed a disastrous habit of converting a boon into a curse. Suddenly I felt so tired I wished I had another dose of anesthesia. Heart and head both felt heavy and hopeless. I was unable to understand what the surgeon told me. Probably, I again lost touch with the mundane world. I knew the spinal headache was setting in and it was time to go numb.
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I woke up again, of course against my will. This time, probably the hammering of unexpected silence pulled me back. The scene was surprisingly calm, serene and tranquil. It was the perfect ICU condition. The bed at No. 3 was vacant, neatly arranged, ready to be occupied by another patient. Oh God! I shivered. Though witnessing deaths and dead bodies has been a routine affair for me over the last three years during my hospital visits; and why me only, the whole world has witnessed the disastrous death-play by COVID where people lost their loved ones in most lamentable conditions; but this time she had left an inexplicable turmoil in my soul. Every death is a loss, every birth is a gain, but are we really in control of things? If not, then whose profit-and-loss business is it anyway? I felt so confused.
“What happened to No. 3, sister?” I tried my level best to sound casual while inquiring, but I failed badly.
The nurse looked into my eyes, read the writing so clearly on my face, pressed my arm quietly and said, “She departed, sir… sadly we go through this almost everyday. Sir, you kindly try to sleep, I have given you an injection, you will be fine. She had tried to reassure me, but somewhere deep down she knew that she too had failed badly.
Suddenly I felt so numb I thought I even did not need that injection. But the very next moment, I wished she had better give me a permanent anesthesia so that I could also take up my flight to the unknown world and never return. I was so confused. Probably, that is the irony! Everybody is confused, every soul is confused, every life is confused, the whole humanity is confused. Perhaps confusion runs the world. Or, maybe we keep accepting everything. Probably, acceptance is the key. Accept it, life is like that! Accept it, the world is like that! Accept it, the situation is like that! Accept it, what can we do, the disease is like that!
Oh, come on! I badly need anesthesia!
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