First Anniversary
Yesterday, was my first anniversary. An anniversary to celebrate the ending of a journey that I never wished I took and I hope that no one ever needs to take. Yes Ladies and Gentlemen, it was exactly a year ago that I was discharged from the Hospital for the every first, and hopefully the last, time......
It was the November of 2007, when a bloody 'yenna rasscala' mosquito from Bengaluru, decided to bite me and pass on a malaria virus inside my body. I initially thought it was a flu. My initial blood tests didn't show up anything, but when the fever persisted for over 4 days, I was summoned by the next flight to Mumbai by my aunt, who had been consulting me over the phone. Further tests too proved nothing and when the fever continued for the 7th day running, I had to do the unthinkable - 'Get Admitted'
My parents, friends and ex-roomates will tell you how scared I am off Doctors, needles and hospitals. The sight of blood gives me a neausea and hence, getting admitted, for me, was no less than walking into a room full of bats and cockroaches!!!
I was admitted at around 11:30pm in Joy Hospital in Chembur and was placed under the guidance of Dr. Naik. Another blood sample taken on the night of admission, finally helped the pathologists detect the virus and I was told by Dr. Naik the next day that I was suffering from 'Falciparum Malaria'. Also known commonly as 'brain fever', this virus is known to be fatal at times and I was lucky to be under the care of a doctor who was well experienced in dealiing with this.
For the next 8 days, I had a needle pierced into the viens on my right arm, through which around 50 bottles of saline and around 25 bottles of antibiotics were pumped into my bloodstream to fight the disease. Apart from that, I was continously surrounded by tablets, nurses, dieticians and assistant doctors (one of whom was really cute) and, for 7 whole days, ate food that one would normally term - 'Hospital Food'.
Unfortunately, that was not the worst of it......the side effects of my antibiotics made sure that I could not sleep and my hands vibrated when I held onto some liquid. I specifically remember one night when I was given a higher dosage of the antibiotic, without my knowledge. As usual, at around 11pm, I switched off the small TV in my room and decided to close my eyes. That when it started....
I started to see weird images in front of my closed eyes. I learned something that day - 'When we close our eyes and think about something, our brains act like little projectors and use the inner portion of the closed eye lid to show us what we want to see.' That night, however, I wasn't thinking of anything specific and yet these weird images appeared in front of my eyes - abstract art forms,....visions of places in Australia, London......people I don't recollect seeing. They would disappear when I opened my eyes and re-appear when I close them. I didn't want to wake up my mom, I didn't want to panic and call the nurse, but I was scared!!!
I started to get weird thoughts - had the virus hit my brain??......will I need to go for brain surgery??......will I die!!???
It was 'this' thought that made me sit up in the middle of the night and think. .....I knew I had to fight.......I had to reprogram my brain to picturize my thoughts and not something invalid. I picturized a wall clock in front of me. I had been observing it for 4 days now. I had virtually by-hearted the words 'T.I.T.A.N' printed just below the '12'. Exactly below the clock was a little zero watt bulb that used to be lit through the night and around 2 feet on either sides came the pillars in the wall. I concentrated on this image and it was only an hour later that I was able to picturize the same settings with my eyes closed....phew!!!
Those wierd images had not gone completely, but reduced. I knew that not all was lost and I sat up all night to program my brain to see what I wanted to see. My home, my room in Bengaluru, my office, my work-desk, Micheal Schumaker, our beautiful ex-neighbour 'Ms Kingfisher' ......ahh....that was the best one ;).....
The next day the doctor told me that what I experienced was a side-effect of the high dose. Other relatives who had come to visit, also told me stories of their vibrating hands when they had suffered from Malaria. All those visits and calls from friends made me feel better. It just diverts your attention off all those medicines and saline bottles.
Finally on the morning of the 8th day, I was discharged. My right arm felt great without the needle stuck into it. I had lost about 2 litres of blood and around 3kgs of my weight. I walked out of the hospital and could actually smell the 'polluted' fresh air of Mumbai city........waah Taj waah....
Couple of days later my aunt examined me and gave me my visa to fly back to Bengaluru. I was instructed to keep a tab on my diet and was put on medicines for a month, which meant no proper sleep for the next 3 weeks. Today, my hand still vibrates slightly when I hold onto some liquid. I thinks its more a mental fear now rather than anything else. I am working on getting rid of it. My neausea on the sight of blood still continues, but my fear of doctors has now seized slightly.
But as usual, out of all adversity comes something nice. I had not made any plans of attending my friend's wedding and my chance presence in Mumbai enabled me to be a part of that celebration on the last day before I flew back.
However, the biggest advantage for me during this time of illness was the time I got to spend with my mom, who sacrificed everything to be with me in hospital for each of those 7 days. She stayed awake, most times during the night and ran around to make sure the nurse removed the saline bottles when they ran out and gave me my medicines on time. She fed me for 5 days because I wasn't capable of holding a plate or a cup of tea with my vibrating hands.
Here, I guess, I must say something that, unfortunately, I havn't said too often. These words, most often in a mother-son relationship, are simply assumed and understood. Somehow, it takes a lot of courage to say this to her - "Mummy, I love you a lot".......
It was the November of 2007, when a bloody 'yenna rasscala' mosquito from Bengaluru, decided to bite me and pass on a malaria virus inside my body. I initially thought it was a flu. My initial blood tests didn't show up anything, but when the fever persisted for over 4 days, I was summoned by the next flight to Mumbai by my aunt, who had been consulting me over the phone. Further tests too proved nothing and when the fever continued for the 7th day running, I had to do the unthinkable - 'Get Admitted'
My parents, friends and ex-roomates will tell you how scared I am off Doctors, needles and hospitals. The sight of blood gives me a neausea and hence, getting admitted, for me, was no less than walking into a room full of bats and cockroaches!!!
I was admitted at around 11:30pm in Joy Hospital in Chembur and was placed under the guidance of Dr. Naik. Another blood sample taken on the night of admission, finally helped the pathologists detect the virus and I was told by Dr. Naik the next day that I was suffering from 'Falciparum Malaria'. Also known commonly as 'brain fever', this virus is known to be fatal at times and I was lucky to be under the care of a doctor who was well experienced in dealiing with this.
For the next 8 days, I had a needle pierced into the viens on my right arm, through which around 50 bottles of saline and around 25 bottles of antibiotics were pumped into my bloodstream to fight the disease. Apart from that, I was continously surrounded by tablets, nurses, dieticians and assistant doctors (one of whom was really cute) and, for 7 whole days, ate food that one would normally term - 'Hospital Food'.
Unfortunately, that was not the worst of it......the side effects of my antibiotics made sure that I could not sleep and my hands vibrated when I held onto some liquid. I specifically remember one night when I was given a higher dosage of the antibiotic, without my knowledge. As usual, at around 11pm, I switched off the small TV in my room and decided to close my eyes. That when it started....
I started to see weird images in front of my closed eyes. I learned something that day - 'When we close our eyes and think about something, our brains act like little projectors and use the inner portion of the closed eye lid to show us what we want to see.' That night, however, I wasn't thinking of anything specific and yet these weird images appeared in front of my eyes - abstract art forms,....visions of places in Australia, London......people I don't recollect seeing. They would disappear when I opened my eyes and re-appear when I close them. I didn't want to wake up my mom, I didn't want to panic and call the nurse, but I was scared!!!
I started to get weird thoughts - had the virus hit my brain??......will I need to go for brain surgery??......will I die!!???
It was 'this' thought that made me sit up in the middle of the night and think. .....I knew I had to fight.......I had to reprogram my brain to picturize my thoughts and not something invalid. I picturized a wall clock in front of me. I had been observing it for 4 days now. I had virtually by-hearted the words 'T.I.T.A.N' printed just below the '12'. Exactly below the clock was a little zero watt bulb that used to be lit through the night and around 2 feet on either sides came the pillars in the wall. I concentrated on this image and it was only an hour later that I was able to picturize the same settings with my eyes closed....phew!!!
Those wierd images had not gone completely, but reduced. I knew that not all was lost and I sat up all night to program my brain to see what I wanted to see. My home, my room in Bengaluru, my office, my work-desk, Micheal Schumaker, our beautiful ex-neighbour 'Ms Kingfisher' ......ahh....that was the best one ;).....
The next day the doctor told me that what I experienced was a side-effect of the high dose. Other relatives who had come to visit, also told me stories of their vibrating hands when they had suffered from Malaria. All those visits and calls from friends made me feel better. It just diverts your attention off all those medicines and saline bottles.
Finally on the morning of the 8th day, I was discharged. My right arm felt great without the needle stuck into it. I had lost about 2 litres of blood and around 3kgs of my weight. I walked out of the hospital and could actually smell the 'polluted' fresh air of Mumbai city........waah Taj waah....
Couple of days later my aunt examined me and gave me my visa to fly back to Bengaluru. I was instructed to keep a tab on my diet and was put on medicines for a month, which meant no proper sleep for the next 3 weeks. Today, my hand still vibrates slightly when I hold onto some liquid. I thinks its more a mental fear now rather than anything else. I am working on getting rid of it. My neausea on the sight of blood still continues, but my fear of doctors has now seized slightly.
But as usual, out of all adversity comes something nice. I had not made any plans of attending my friend's wedding and my chance presence in Mumbai enabled me to be a part of that celebration on the last day before I flew back.
However, the biggest advantage for me during this time of illness was the time I got to spend with my mom, who sacrificed everything to be with me in hospital for each of those 7 days. She stayed awake, most times during the night and ran around to make sure the nurse removed the saline bottles when they ran out and gave me my medicines on time. She fed me for 5 days because I wasn't capable of holding a plate or a cup of tea with my vibrating hands.
Here, I guess, I must say something that, unfortunately, I havn't said too often. These words, most often in a mother-son relationship, are simply assumed and understood. Somehow, it takes a lot of courage to say this to her - "Mummy, I love you a lot".......
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