Her words were music to my ears



I think we are a family that gets scared of doctors, hospitals and anything to do with sickness. First I used to think it was only me. It’s only later that I realised that most of us were the same. Everyone hated the thought, sound and name of doctors. It’s a wonder that my sister actually got married to one. Or perhaps it would be safe enough to say that she was the exception in the house and one of the odd ones who was so brave that she went ahead and chose a doctor as a life-partner. But as they say, to each his own! For one, I have feared doctors since my childhood days. It was difficult for me to swallow any kind of tablets. I have thrown away many tablets in the past especially when I knew mom wasn’t looking. But she was the mother I forgot… so she realised my trick very soon and would ensure that she saw the pill go down my throat. So I learnt how to swallow horrible pills and capsules, but injections were still a nightmare for me and I would give an arm and a leg to escape. This was majorly my part of the story.

All is well that ends well - The story of my mother's surgery. #music #hospital Click To Tweet

I used to think, like my sister, my mother is also very brave when it comes to doctors and treatments, and to a very large extent she is. It’s only on the day she was hospitalised for her cataract surgery in the left eye, did I realise that she was scared. That she was scared was understandable, but I was shitting bricks at the thought of her going through a surgery. These days a cataract surgery is the easiest type of surgery anyone can go through. Though there are very minimalistic chances of a cataract operation going wrong, the mere thought of it made my blood run cold. It was the eye after all. And worst still; decades back, my grandma had lost an eye due to something going wrong with her cataract surgery.  I can’t even begin to describe the position I was in that morning. I had taken mom to the hospital and the rest of the family was to arrive later, as the prep time for it was nearly two hours and no one except me was needed.  I was a complete bundle of nerves and yet had to smile and look as if I was the most valiant soldier of the country who would make things right at the snap of her fingers.  I had to smile and act fearless for mom’s sake.

I helped her get ready and kept engaging her in small and meaningless conversations just for the heck of it, so her mind would be distracted. For some reason I felt that she had butterflies in her stomach too. Her doctor was a sweetheart, a very sensible woman and we both really liked her. But this was a surgery nonetheless and we both were worried. The funniest part was the fact that we both were like a cat on hot bricks and at the same time we acted as if we were super-cool about the surgery and it didn’t really matter. Finally the awaited hour struck and she was taken inside the theatre. I met the doctor and wished her luck. Well, as if she needed any; but I gave her my good wishes anyways. It was my mother’s eye that she was going to operate upon afterall.

Once she was taken in, I had to sit in the waiting room. The wait began and I waited with bated breath; breaking in a cold sweat every five minutes. Am sure people around me would have laughed at me had they known my mother was in for a cataract surgery and I was so nervous; almost as if afraid of my own shadow. But I kept telling myself that it was just a matter of 30 – 40 minutes and it would be over in no time. I also kept praying silently. But as luck would have it, it was almost over an hour and a half and there was no sign of the doctor nor did any attendant call out my name. I couldn’t sit any longer and kept pacing outside the operation theatre. My nervousness knew no bounds and the whole situation was giving me heebie-jeebies. It felt like the longest wait of my life.

Finally to my good fortune, I saw the doctor coming out and walking towards me. But seeing her face made me more panicky and my anxiety hit the roof. I wasn’t prepared to hear anything other than the fact that the surgery was successful. But those ten seconds that she took to walk towards me were the worst ten seconds of my life. I just kept staring at her quietly. I had no strength to even ask her any question. She came hurriedly towards me and told me, “what was wrong with her, she was so nervous and her BP shot up. I had to wait until it became normal and she was still so anxious. She made it difficult and she is still nervous but it went off well and her eye is absolutely fine now.” Praise god! Her words were music to my ears and as I hugged the doctor tight tears just burst out of my eyes. I guess all is well that ends well.


This post is a part of Write Over the Weekend, an initiative for Indian Bloggers by BlogAdda.

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