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Thursday,
June 13, 2019
Bombay
S-Day!
Surgery Day! Russel Goes Under The Knife Again!
Namaste from Bombay!
I
awoke after about four hours of sleep, having set my alarm again. There wasn’t
much time to lose, so I jumped up, washed, had a shower and shampoo, got dressed,
prepared my breakfast of muesli and coffee, grabbed my brolly and left the
house for the hospital. I walked briskly along Bandra’s streets feeling a great
heaviness in my heart. All along the way, I kept praying that the Lord would be
with the surgeons and would guide their hands as they performed the surgery on
Russel.
I was
at the hospital by 7.40 am and about ten minutes later, the ward team came to
wheel Russel out to the Operating Theater.
Dad was quite distraught and just before Russel disappeared inside, he
bid him goodbye tearfully. However, once Russel was out of sight, he broke down
and began crying bitterly. It was hard to soothe him, to convince him that all
would be well and that we had to leave things in God’s hands.
About ten minutes later, he pulled himself
together and then the two of us made our way back to Russel’s ward where we
spent the next couple of hours in prayer. Whilst we were waiting, I used the
phone to order breakfast for Dad—I got him a plate of idli sambhar and a cup of
coffee and he seemed to be somewhat revived by the food.
About
two hours later, they called us back downstairs and informed us that all had
gone well for Russel who was out of any danger. Dr. Bhende, the orthopedic
surgeon, came and met us and spent at least ten minutes telling us what he had
aimed to accomplish and how satisfied he felt by the outcome. He told us what
the prognosis is for the next few days, how closely he will be observed and
monitored for the next few hours in the Recovery Room, how frequently the
dressings will be changed on his wound and how soon he expects to discharge
Russel: possibly on Monday (which is far sooner than we had expected). So
fingers crossed!
Needless to say, Dad was visibly relieved. Even though he is a man of
faith, I am honestly far more optimistic than he is. I guess he has lived so
much longer than I have and he knows, as he put it, that “there is many a slip
betwixt the cup and the lip”. He was uneasy as long as Russel was in the
Recovery Room, was dreading the thought of them putting him in the ICU (even if
it was only to keep a close and watchful eye on him) and was only really fully
at ease when Russel was brought back to his ward. Russel, of course, was also
very pleased to be back. Seriously…I believe that Russel often thinks that
going into surgery is going towards Death. Both Dad and I had a chance to go
inside the Recovery Room and talk to him for a few minutes. He looked good and
although he had the oxygen mask on his mouth and nose, he still attempted to
chat with us. I teared up and got emotional as I thanked the team of orthopedic
surgeons and anesthesiologists who had worked together on his fractured leg to
perform the kind of remedial surgery that removed an infected titanium plate
(which, by the way, they returned to us, in a box with all the accompanying
screws!). The operation had been performed under spinal anesthesia. It takes a village…and the good Lord above to
effect such miracles.
About an hour and a half later (much
later than we expected), he was finally wheeled back into his ward. He looked
perfectly fine, if just a tiny bit sedated. He was hooked up to a machine that
monitored his blood pressure (which was a tad too low) and had a pain killer
administered intravenously—although, being neuropathic, Russel feels no pain. I
ran down to the canteen and picked up a bread pakora—which was delicious and
all for just Rs. 50 (less than a dollar!). It is a peculiarly Indian creation
which involves two slices of white bread with potato bhaji stuffed between them
to make a sandwich. It is then cut into two triangles, dipped in batter and
deep fried. I know! It is sinful! Served with tomato ketchup, it is heavenly! I
brought it upstairs and began to wolf it down because I did not realize how hungry
all the stress had made me. After Dad had established that Russel was okay, he
said goodbye to him and left the hospital to get home for some sleep.
Under mild sedation, Russel spent
most of the next two hours asleep. I whispered many Thanksgiving prayers to the
Lord for bringing Russel into recovery so quickly and then was kept busy
texting all of my relatives and close friends around the world to let them know
that he was out of danger following surgery and was conscious again. My cousins
and a bunch of friends around the world, a whole slew of people in our parish
church and sundry other friends everywhere had been praying for Russel and
supporting us through the entire operation. Dad and I did not feel alone at
all. We cannot thank them all enough for their concern and caring. Later in the
day, when the US finally woke up, Llew called and spoke to Russel and told him
that he was being prayed for and that everyone was so happy that he was in top
form again.
Left
to my own devices and my laptop, I was able to catch up with my blog posts and
complete my Acknowledgments page for my publisher. I was also wily-nily made to
eavesdrop on a major lover’s tiff that developed in the next bed between the
patient recovering from jaundice and his fiancée because she had found out from
his phone that he had received a call and had indulged in a 12-minute
conversation with his ex! What a nutter! How on earth is she going to survive
marriage if she is so emotionally insecure, I have to wonder? Believe me, she
was a textbook case of a needy female looking for reassurance from her man: that
he loves her more than his ex! She tried railing, accusing, crying…and five
minutes later, her voice had lost its wobbliness and its tears. Now, far be it
from me to judge a relationship based on what I overheard in a half hour’s
conversation. But when she went on and on and on for at least three
hours—starting and stopping and then starting again—I honestly wonder how the
poor man is going to endure a lifetime with this woman. Best of all, I was
silently congratulating myself because the entire fight was conducted in
Marathi (because they thought that I, in the next bed, would not
understand)…but I followed every single word! Not a bad outcome, eh, after less
than a year in Maharashtra!
Ok,
that said, Russel awoke after a while and was rather disturbed that they were
not feeding him anything—because he was famished. I had to explain to him (as
did the steady stream of nurses who came to check on him practically every
fifteen minutes) that they do not give a patient anything to eat or drink for
at least five hours after surgery for fear that he will throw up. They promised
him some coconut water at 5.00 pm. and Russel waited patiently for it. I have
to say that he is a brilliant patient—so patient, so long-suffering, so understanding.
Promptly at 5.00 pm, they arrived with his coconut water and he simply inhaled
it, pronouncing it, “very nice!” Another anesthesiologist came around, a little
later, checked all his responses and told me that the anesthesia had worn off
and he was back to normal. Because he attained stability, they took him off all
the monitoring devices. She also told him that there was no reason for any
further diet and he could expect to eat a full dinner.
Dad
arrived at 6.45 pm and was very happy to see how well Russel had done all day.
He is catching up on his sleep at home (much to my relief) but is disappointed
that the World Cup cricket was rained out again! England seems to be going through
an extraordinarily wet spell and this is dampening the spirits of cricket fans
globally. I ordered some kadai paneer
for him from the canteen (this would be his dinner) and I waited until Russel’s
dinner arrived. Both Dad and Russel had dinner and because they sent a watery
dal with rice that Russel did not want (as he does not eat rice at all), I
shared Dad’s paneer and ended up having my own dinner as the three of us ate
dinner together in the ward (as if we were at home!). I could see that a huge
weight had been lifted from Dad’s shoulders.
And
believe me, as I walked home at 8.15pm, I felt so light-hearted that it was as
if a great millstone had been lifted from my neck too. Even the fat raindrops that
suddenly descended did not dampen my happy spirits as I reached home and lunged
for a bowl of chocolate ice-cream—as comfort food was again urgently called
for. I watched Murder City but once
my ice-cream was eaten, I could not keep my eyes open. I washed, brushed and
flossed my teeth and got ready for bed when I received my second wind. I sat
down to draft this blog post as I do not have time anymore in the morning. Then
I did some urgent work on my laptop (I have to register my frequent flyer miles
with American Airlines for my recent British Airways flight) and then I went to
sleep with a song in my heart and a thank you prayer on my lips.
Until
tomorrow…
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