Wednesday, September 10, 2014

WHEN I COULDN'T STAND ON MY OWN LEGS.....

                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.

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