Life
never goes on like a melody. There are rough patches then and there. Imagine a Lamborghini
Gallardo going at its top speed in an Indian road; there’s sure to be a smack
due to speed - breakers. This kind of smack happened to me recently. If
Yuvraj Singh can write a whole book about his battle against cancer, why can’t
I try out at least a small piece?
Going
back to the smack part, that happened to be a pleasant Saturday morning.
I, keeping in mind mom’s advice, took a leisurely oil bath and was about to
return to my room when my right leg seemed to have become involuntary. There
was a bit of pain; it looked as if I had strained a muscle. After getting ready
to go to the mess, I became the centre of mockery for my roommate as I couldn’t
keep myself stable. My right leg flexed like a drumstick and I fell down just
like a toddler trying to stand up and walk for the first time ever in his/her
life. I tried to kick hard and pressed the right foot hard against the ground.
It was alas for me and voila for that fatto. I fell down again
and realized something was wrong. When I tried to stand up again, I could feel
a sharp sting of pain going through the spine. Yeah, I admit tears fell off my
eyes and I just collapsed on the bed. Prabhu Deva, or rather Michael Jackson
himself, would have seriously bowed down on seeing my efforts to merely stand
steadily. I was dancing as if performing for some heavy metallic rock.
After
some two hours of sleep, when I attempted with full optimism and hope to make
everything regular by walking, gravity seemed to play its role by attracting my
whole body as I fell down once again. Now, I realized that it wasn’t merely a
sprain; my right leg had totally become numb. “Oh, this is crazy”, I thought.
Typically, it must have been one such effects of the Chaos Theory which
had anachronistically stuck me in a ruthless fashion. What else could that be?
(P.S: Chaos Theory states that the flutter of a butterfly’s wings can cause
an earthquake or even tsunami in some way or other. Visualize Dhasavatharam)
There was no chance of me falling down. My only supreme exercise daily was
walking to the mess and to the classroom. I hadn’t played any sport in the
recent past to the extent of straining my leg; or rather I don’t play any game
in the so – called hardcore way. I am one of those million people in and
around this globe who like to watch all kind of sports and lament about things
but never attempt to be active so as to realize the toughest part of them.
When it
came to the limelight that I couldn’t wear ordinary slippers as there was no
grip between the fingers of my right leg, it became evident that the situation
could not be rectified without medical aid. So, I asked this guy, Iqbal,
who had had enough entertainment that day, thanks to me, to call for an
ambulance. And since that guy wanted some more comedies, he secretly informed a
whole gang of our friends through a call. Guess what, when I reached the ground
floor, there were myriad of dudes standing there with ‘anxious’ faces, each
of them enquiring about what actually happened. What could I tell them? Even I
had no idea of what had happened and what I was going through. So, we boarded
the ambulance. Yes, by ‘we’, I mean it. There were some eight guys, who got in
along with me that the driver really got puzzled as to who was the patient. (The
first thing these medical people do is to make you feel you isolated by
labeling you as ‘patient’)
I knew
that the Health Center at our college would never be of any use but for fever
and cold. There would be only one general physician, a lady who would exude an
expression that could rate her as the most melancholic person in the world.
And, there are these assistants at the pharmacy would play the role of
anarchist, monarch, autocrat, bureaucrat or whatever you call it and whose
faces I always avoid. The only consolation is the Ilayaraaja songs played mildly
in the speakers. As I expected, this so – called doctor asked me to apply some
creams and gels and take rest. I was in no mood to explain her that I had
already had enough rest and this was something terrible. Comprehending my urge
to go to some nearby hospital, the ambulance driver offered to drop me. Just
then, as if he had acquired a spiritual awakening, he stated, “Thambi, you
go upstairs. M.E counseling is going on. There’ll be specialists out there.
Perhaps, you’d get more clarity.”
Getting
to the first floor was the next Himalayan task. So, two guys lifted me and I
was really getting embarrassed as almost every soul in that vibe watched me like
adolescent people watching Sunny Leone or Poonam Pandey. Finally, there was a
typical doctor, the kind of person who is born to serve people. (The cost of
her make – up would easily go beyond that of 1 gram of gold) This woman was
really concerned and she, after some enquiries, gave a reference to one of the
famous neuro specialists, stating that the problem was not ortho related.
Nero he
was, this doc, rather than a neuro, who had some abbreviations related to his
qualification, that seemed to overtake the acronym of my school name. He, like
the dictator, told something, which I couldn’t comprehend at all. There was a
doubt if he was really speaking to me or rehearsing for some research
conference. There were numerous medical and scientific terms, none of which a
Mechanical Engineering student can understand in any means. Finally, he started
writing a note of thanksgiving to this doctor, who had asked me to consult him.
I was getting pissed off and so was Iqbal, who accompanied me throughout. “Mahn,
this guy is dumb and lunatic. What’s he writing in that fucking prescription
like a letter without explaining the person concerned what the hell the problem
exactly is?” He must have heard my mind voice. “The problem”, he
opined, “seems to have arisen from the spinal cord. There’s nothing to worry
about the leg.” He was conclusive; his expressions showed that he had
nothing more to speak. He wrote some tablets and advised a review in the next
three days. I was still in the ‘is that it?’ kind of mindset. Clearly,
apart from the tablets, I hadn’t got any clarity on my problem. He didn’t
explain me the causes, precautions, diet to be followed, nothing. And, he was
authoritative and dominating that I couldn’t ask him anything. In a nutshell,
he resembled a normal Matriculation school teacher who never likes his/her
student questioning very often. Then came the Eureka moment. I read the
letter which he had addressed to the ‘Messiah’ doctor and found out the
name of the ailment. (Ah, finally) MONONEURITIS MULTIPLEX!!! (Sounds
like the name of a movie theatre, eh?)
My
thought of keeping things intact and secret from my parents suffered a huge
blow when mom just called me and told she was on the way to Chennai and wanted
to see me. There was no other way. So, I told her the situation and she offered
to take me home the next day after calling on grandma. I first refused and
insisted that things would be alright. But, when wearing slippers or squatting
becomes a challenge, life sucks. I had to go home. If walking from the hostel
to the entrance was a marathon, boarding a bus by climbing the steps looked
like a pole vault. And again, there was this mob of guys, one of whom carried
my bag, two others almost carried me, another fellow took mom’s luggage so on
and so forth.
The
next issue was conveying the matter to dad in a serene way. Dad’s IQ would
suddenly take leaps and bounds beyond Albert Einstein while he thinks about
illnesses; he would mull all possible complications from the basic standpoint
to arrive at something which may not even exist. However, mom has learnt the
knack of putting things in a polished way so that it becomes a two – way
peaceful agreement, an MoU kind of approval. When mom told me that dad
was not agitated, half of my problem was solved. (“Oh, by the way, I don’t
criticize dad. It’s just that he is so possessive.” Mind: Please don’t
curb my pocket money, dad)
After
four hours of travel, the next Herculean task confronted me. I had to get off
the bus and walk for quite some distance in order to get on to dad’s vehicle.
Till then, I didn’t know that my right leg was completing a whole circle to
complete a single step and that it was nearly impossible to lift it to make my
seat in the two – wheeler. With much difficulty and not before shedding gallons
of sweat, I sat in an awkward position. Dad drove with utmost care, caution,
control and diligence, which should get a mention in Guinness, or at
least the Limca Book of Records, given the condition of roads here at
Cuddalore and the Take Diversion here and there due to this subway
construction in progress. As I could muster nothing worthwhile, I slept, woke
up, ate dinner and slept. (Wow…!)
The
next day went on like a year. Since sitting in floor was not plausible, I was
given a cot in the bed room, which has become my place of stay (?!) most of the
time in this entire period of dormancy. There were serious discussions between
mom and dad regarding which doctor to consult and when. I could hear mild sobs
and weeps, but whenever I passed through the hall, both of them blushed and
greeted me in a pleasant tone. I could sense they were upset greatly; this, in
turn, depressed me. I tried desperately to be normal but that god damn leg
wouldn’t yield at all. In short, it was a marooned Monday (25/08/2014)
in my notion.
The
next day, we fixed an appointment with one of the renowned neurologists here in
my hometown. He, on seeing the prescriptions given earlier, patted my left foot
gently with a kind of gavel and asked if I could sense his hitting. I replied
positive. When he asked the same question after five seconds, I gave him a WTF
do you expect me to tell now? look. He told he had patted my right foot and
I was shocked; I swore I had no sensation at all. Now, I could witness the
degree of seriousness I was suffering from. He had explained things easily than
the so – called specialist who petrified me with unpronounceable medical names.
To confirm things, he asked mom to take an MRI scan of my spine. The scan was
merely a combination of estuaries and straits for me, but he looked into it
carefully and pointed to some part of it and said, “There’s a slight bulge
over here.” He then wrote some terms again and prescribed some medicines. LUMBAR
PLEXOPATHY!!!
After
that, it was and is all bed rest, tablets, injection, more tablets, application
of various gels, hot water treatment et al. I sat only during my occasional mini
sessions in front of the PC, and eating. It’s like staying in an Ebola Jail
in Dolo Town, with no option of getting out. ‘Idleness is the root
cause of all evils’, they say. I would rather modify it as ‘Idleness is
the root cause of all novels’. Believe me or not!!! I have got enough ideas
to write a whole story, only that those thoughts are irrelevant and incoherent
to one another. The most difficult part is staying in bed all through the day
without sleeping (After the first two or three days, I had become tired of
sleeping) In order to fritter time, I started reading newspapers,
magazines, supplements, weeklies, monthlies, novels that it became a habit for
me to read whatever I found. (I have even gone through the user guide of my
mobile) Dad’s occasional weird look suggested, “This guy is reading
unwanted books for his age.” The date of issue didn’t matter to me. For
example, I was reading a newspaper dated August 24th on September 3rd;
and regarding monthlies, I started devouring even 2013 issues. Vladimir Putin
and Barack Obama have my neighbors now, the activities of ISIS (now IS)
seem to take place near Cuddalore, courtesy newspapers.
Meanwhile,
restless mom had contacted someone and found out the name of one of the most
wanted neuro surgeons of South India, or at least Tamil Nadu, which meant that
I had to come back to Chennai for his opinion on the next Tuesday (02/09/2014)
It was bus travel as usual, with mild quarrels among mom, dad and me regarding
my position and improvement. On reaching Adyar, we had to board an auto for
Rs.70 for a distance which would have taken about 10 to 12 minutes if I were
able to walk normally. The timing allotted for me was 10:30 A.M and there was
about 90 minutes left. So, we finished breakfast at the canteen in that multi –
faceted hospital and waited for our turn.
There
were interesting things happening in each section. There were busy people,
roaming here and there with various reports; there were old people who were
blank about where to go to pay the fee, where to complete the tests etc; there
were dutiful sweepers whose faces showed their contentment and happiness in
maintaining the place clean, thereby providing a congenial and healthy
atmosphere; there were assistants and in – charges at the counters, who mostly
spent their time giggling and chatting apart from checking their facebook accounts
periodically; there were helpers to assist physically challenged people. My
thoughts started wavering. Seriously, there would be no single jobless human
being in this country if people are ready to take up any kind of work. We are
bogged by the thought of monetary benefits and savings for the future that we
wish to go to white collar jobs and earn L’s and C’s without real inner peace.
Can the service offered by that helper and sweeper be equaled by the codes and
programs written by IT people to ‘revolutionize’ the whole world? Can the
timely urge of an ambulance driver to save a life just for his 4 – digit salary
a month be compared to the pumps and gears we’re going to manufacture after
completing this Mechanical Engineering?
When my
turn came, it was the routine thing again. The same kind of gavel, similar
pats, numbness, everything ditto. He asked me to walk bare – footed and
suggested another special kind of test meant especially to check the reactive
nature and stimulus of the nerves. That was to be taken in the afternoon
elsewhere in the close quarters. So, we had to wait. Dad was getting tensed and
mom increasingly nervous as I couldn’t afford to sit for long due to the pain
in the spine. Left with no other option, those 4 to 5 hours went in grumbling
and praying. In the meantime, we had delicious lunch at Sangeetha’s,
which was the only happy part of the entire day (Forget the bill amount)
We were
asked to come to the particular Neurodiagnostic Center, which was also the
clinic of that doc whom we had consulted, at 3:30 P.M. In the anticipation of being
the first token, we just went there at 2:30 itself only to find that the
clinic, which was in the second floor of a building, was closed. I had to face
an awkward situation of sitting in the ground floor. Heard you saying, “Hey,
what’s awkward in it? Were there no chairs?” Everything was fine, except
that it was a Fertility Checkup Centre. Though nobody objected our sitting
there, it seemed alien to me. Imagine the situation when a couple with an 18 –
year old son occupies the centre of attraction in such an atmosphere. Though
everyone was attending to his/her work dutifully, there was something which
told me that they were watching me all the time. When they laughed for
something, it looked like they were making fun of me (I always wonder why
there are four or five lady receptionists in many hospitals. They chat most of
the time and make some kind of mistakes in billing and fixing appointments).
That 1 hour kind of went in an uneasy way.
Finally,
there was a sigh of relief when the clock struck 3:30. There was a radiologist,
who performed the test. It was an ECG – like test, which produced pulse
variations depending upon the impulsive reactions of the nerves when applied
with a mild current. That guy was doing this as if playing Virtual Tennis
in a smartphone. He plugged various cables and passed them through my leg and
connected them in a confusing manner and started playing with my leg. After
some 45 minutes, it was over and he asked us to come the next day to collect
the report and go for a review. He had stated it so simple, but we hadn’t
brought any luggage or alternative clothes, thinking that everything would be
completed within a day so we could rush back. So, we put up at my cousin’s home,
where convenient options were available for clothing. Mom got aunt’s nighty,
dad was given uncle’s dhoti and I had to wear my cousin’s trousers, while the
washing machine did its job to wash, rinse and dry up our clothes so as to make
them fit to be worn the next day. Not to forget the aromatic dinner.
As
blood and urine tests were to be taken the next morning in empty stomach, we
bid adieu early and left at about 6:45 A.M. The doc had sent an alert that the
problem might be due to increased insulin levels, so we had to check it out.
The thought of eating breakfast at 10:00 A.M despite waking up at 6:00 made me
even hungrier. First test was taken at 7:45 followed by a tumbler of glucose
water. The next tests were to take place in gaps of 1 and 2 hours, respectively,
from the first. But, those 2 hours went in a flash as the hospital was
perfectly air – conditioned and there were some really hot chicks roaming.
Finally, the tests were over and I ran towards the canteen (OK, I thought of
running, but obviously I couldn’t. So, I sauntered with dad’s help) to
satisfy my thirst and hunger. The reports were given shortly and to my
satisfaction, there was no slightest symptom of diabetes. I was worried because
by then, mom was detailing various facts and figures on how to cut down sugar
in day – to – day life.
As the
doctor had stated, it was a case of elimination. The problem had been
diagnosed, but the cause remained a puzzle. In order to prevent future occurrences,
the source had to be identified. We went back to the clinic to get the reports
of that NCV (Nerve Conduction Velocity) Test and review. This revealed
clear – cut inferences on what should be done to mitigate the problem and how
to prevent future occurrences, but still the cause remained an enigma. The
doctor gave some options and said one out of them should have been the cause:
1)
There might have been instances of severe fever
or viral infection in the recent past, which should have caused an imbalance in
the fluid between the nerves connecting the spinal cord.
2)
There would have been an unknown strain in the
abdomen or spinal part, which might have been minor then.
3)
This may also be due to the improper balance in
the height and weight of a person i.e. excess or deficient BMI.
4)
There are people who are rarely affected with
some kind of nerve mismatch or bulge or something like that, which would show
up at some point of time in one’s life.
The first two could easily be eliminated; the
third was obviously my case (deficient BMI) and the fourth could be confirmed
if this occurs again (God forbid)
Finally,
mom was satisfied by this doc as he prescribed some vitamin tablets and told us
not to worry. That was it and we returned home, not before I asked one of my
friends, who is also my classmate, to meet me. He just scared me by telling the
subject names and I was tired of hearing all that. He advised me sincerely to
read through the course materials by asking someone to send the notes through
WhatsApp and added that I am going to suffer a lot on account of missing these
many classes. Further, he pissed me off by asking why I hadn’t told him to
bring some course books so that I could read at home. I would have gladly
slapped him if mom and dad weren’t there. I wished to explain him all the
thoughts and beliefs I had acquired in course of this disability, but realized
he wouldn’t understand because he is the kind of guy who wants to study Mech
Engg the hardcore way. Moreover, he would understand one day like I understood
now that books and GPA don’t always matter.
Before
I reached home, I had received about 40 text messages and 15 calls from various
people from my schoolmates to department guys and hostel mates, and even some
of the seniors, who were apparently worried and concerned about my health. I
have true friends, loving parents and a welcoming society to hug and embrace me
irrespective of my degree, marks, qualification and everything. What else does
a man want? What more would someone long for? Life moves on…
On
the serious note, I got to say that I learnt a lot about life practically now
in this vacation (eh?) I usually mock at those people who speak about
the value and depth of life in some spiritual discourses, public meetings and
motivational sessions. But I learnt it the harder way. If a slightest
compression or expansion of a small nerve at the end of spinal cord could
almost paralyze me for three entire weeks, who knows what’s there in store for
the future? Let’s not just like that close ourselves within the limits of our
course. Let’s try to help people at least in a miniscule way so as to establish
a healthy and harmonic society and fulfill the purpose of living. Believe me,
this isn’t spirituality, this is reality.