As I convalesce and avail the esteemed services of my two trusted healers, I must give an account of where I’ve been (rather what I’ve been through).

This weekend was a weekend of many firsts. What was a dull pain in my abdomen on Friday evening got diagnosed as a rather acute case of appendicitis on Saturday afternoon and by Saturday evening the surgeon’s scalpel had freed my appendix from its long slavery to my caecum in the dark, gloomy interiors of my anatomy.

I’ve been the trouble child in my family and therefore am no stranger to local anesthetics. This however was the first time I had to be put under the agency of a general anesthetic. I was thus not only curious to experience the feeling of “passing out”, but also determined in a devious sort of way to test my mental strength in dodging the effects of the anesthesia. All my resolve must have lasted nine perhaps ten seconds under it (even here I have a nagging feeling that I might be exaggerating). I saw the lights in the operation theatre come on (a very “movie like” feeling), I saw a dark grey rubber mask being brought over my nose, I remember trying to do the tedious business of judging whether smell of the gas pouring through the mask should be classified as pleasant or odious and I remember passing into a sweet slumber (leaving the surgeons to work hard on me) the moment I had placed a check mark under the “bitter” column of my imaginary smell categorization matrix.

I was floating in a pleasant, abstract dream - the sort you want to postpone waking from forever. Just then I heard my name being called out loudly:

“DEEPAK”
“Come out Deepak”
“DEEPAK”
“it’s over Deepak”
“DEEPAK”

My brain deemed it important to answer these urgent summons from the outside world and cut my reverie short abruptly. I opened my eyes reluctantly, answered the question whether I was dreaming affirmatively, had an irresistible urge to sing ditties describing contents of my fantastic dream; restrained myself initially to an eloquent prose, and was curtly told by the doctors to shut up and relax before another Iliad or Odyssey could be realized in the grim environs of the operation theatre. I was shown what was extracted from me (I was insistent) though without my glasses all I could see was that there was something hazy floating in something hazy. I was taken aside for a wee ride to my room (after a change of bed). As they wheeled me into the elevator for a ride from second floor to the eight I could see through the gap between the sliding doors and sepulchral steel elevator chamber the dimly lit column within which the elevator performs its daily exhilarating journeys. I remember being momentarily happy for not being an elevator and just then they nudged me into my final bed.

My room was pleasant and comfortable. They had provided me with a switch which on pressing would sound Beethoven’s Fur Elise outside (I couldn’t help grinning to myself) and have someone come over to attend me. Though on the first night someone or the other kept coming to attend me without my pressing the switch. I kept checking with the nurses what I was being administered each time I got poked and on being told on one occasion something to the effect that the contents of the syringe was a painkiller I tried to argue that subsequent injections shouldn’t hurt as painkillers are impartial to where they should act.

The next three days flew and on Monday I was presented with my much awaited St. Valentine’s Day missive – a massive hospital bill.



From collecting airplane boarding passes from lonely flights on the 14th, to collecting hospital bills – my guardian angels are sure blessed with an astute sense of romance. One day I’ll get better of these confounded cherubs!

Postscriptum: My sister informs me that her recently concluded M. Phil dissertation will have two appendices – good for her! (dissertation?)

Your readers wondered where you were. Take care - don't run too soon. PS. Better luck next year

By  granny p, at 17.2.05  

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Bravo!

And, I just remembered that the last time I mailed my 'Appendix' to SK for approval (about 2-3 weeks back), I put 'Appendicitis' in the Subject column...very funny indeed...!

By  Anonymous, at 17.2.05  

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What a knockout Valentine's Day! Hope you are fine now. General Anesthesia is so cool, ain't it? :p

By  Ink Spill, at 17.2.05  

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... and I remember passing into a sweet slumber ... the moment I had placed a check mark under the “bitter” column of my imaginary smell categorization matrix. You are really good at this. :)

This post reminded me of my only time under general anesthesia. The stupor is comparable to only that brought about by abundant doses of very pure alcohol minus the consequential throwing up of guts or the attendant hangover.

Good to see you back.

By  Anonymous, at 18.2.05  

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... and I remember passing into a sweet slumber ... the moment I had placed a check mark under the “bitter” column of my imaginary smell categorization matrix. You are really good at this. :)

This post reminded me of my only time under general anesthesia. The stupor is comparable to only that brought about by abundant doses of very pure alcohol minus the consequential throwing up of guts or the attendant hangover.

Good to see you back.

By  Anonymous, at 18.2.05  

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Thanks granny_p!

Sis you should be more careful about what you put in Subject line of your emails in future :-). I hope the two appendices of your dissertation are keeping good health.

"Knockout" in every literal sense; one I am least likely to forget :). Doing well - too bad they don't give medals for speedy recoveries! Oh yes.. Oh yes, I cannot remember having ever slept so peacefully or effortlessly!

Hey Avis, I've never had any luck with alcohol - and *never* in quantities you mention here :-). I am so readily excitable that you'll usually find me intoxicated with a glass of chilled coke with ice cubes :-)

By  Deepak, at 18.2.05  

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Something about you and Valentines Day... Its a surprise each year.

You actually insisted on seeing the severed appendix?? ugghhh :O

[and i thought asking the dentist for my extracted tooth was err.. unpleasant]

By  Anonymous, at 18.2.05  

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Well we are blessed with two sets of roughly 30 teeth and only one appendix. In the light of this gross disparity don't you think my curiosity was justified? Not to mention the fact, that unlike our teeth, we don't get to see our appendices in the mirror each day :-)

By  Deepak, at 18.2.05  

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You were taking mental notes on the way to an operation?! Great dedication, Deepak! What a writer you are. Hope you're feeling sprightly now. :)

By  D, at 19.2.05  

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Hey Dude ! Hope you feel better soon... Did you take your music to the hospital too to listen ?
I hope Beethoven helped you recuperate faster :)

By  Anonymous, at 19.2.05  

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Thanks Deirdre! This being my first *real* hospital stint (one hopes the last one too!),as in where I was the subject, every little detail insisted on registering itself in my log with a vehemence I rarely experience.

Absolutely sprightly now!

Thanks Indian Philosopher. I carried no music with me, though I suspect that the Fur Elise Chime outside my room might've worked its charms on me. It was an unflattering rendition , but hey it was Beethoven!

By  Deepak, at 19.2.05  

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Great to see that you're back and doing good!

By  Sabarish, at 20.2.05  

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Thanks Sabarish!

By  Deepak, at 20.2.05  

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welcome back Deepak! Pradipta says no more eating at Airlines for you. nice post though. when you publish your blog-book (you should!), make sure it has a twin appendix too ;)

By  Exotic Gringo, at 26.2.05  

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Thanks Kaushal! There is a lot that I shouldn't do ;-) (well at least for a while).

If you insist - two appendices for my book - though I must thank God for blessing us humans with just one - that one is trouble enough!

By  Deepak, at 26.2.05  

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