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After the Chief Surgeon finished his job of irrigation, aspiration and implantation, and his attendant pasted a black patch on my eye and led me to the anteroom, I was told by the Sister to lie down for an hour without thinking of my eye.
This reminded me of the proverb where a doctor prescribed a syrup to the patient in the good old days with the only precaution that the patient shouldn't think of a monkey's ass before drinking his syrup.
Meanwhile my son came in with the encouraging report that the Surgeon told him that my operation went very well...and left to buy the cataract kit.
And I was thinking for an hour of nothing but my eye...que sera sera...
The good hour passed rather quickly. And the Sister returned and said that her Chief was back in his chamber and was waiting to have a keen look at my eye...through his scope.
And she removed the black patch on my eye...that reminded me of the game we used to play in our childhood...blindman's buff.
And as she led me into the verandah it was a sort of revelation to me. It just happened that it was one of those rare sunny monsoon noons in Hyderabad and I was looking straight into the Bombay Highway with its buses, autos, cars and the busy Chandanagar Bazaar.
It all looked suddenly so very bright that it was hurting my eye and more so my brain.
But there was a catch...I was seeing two of everything closer...two Sisters, two attendants and two sons.
And I got scared.
Because it reminded me of the nasty spells of migraine I had for all of 7 years at Vizagh during my university days...double vision was the symptom of the onset of those virulent attacks...I suggest you better not have migraine if you can help it...toothache is far more welcome.
And I was led into the chamber of the Chief...I mean two Chiefs.
He asked me to sit down in front of his machine with my head thrust into his guillotine. And after inspecting the eye, shining all sorts of light beams on it, he declared:
"Very Good! Now you can meet the Counselor for the aftercare"
But I moaned:
"I am seeing well enough but two of everything'
And he smiled and said:
"It is the aftereffect of anesthesia...your eyeball is not able to move freely yet...it will pass in 2 hours"
And my son drove me back to our apartment and asked me to relax and sit down quietly in the sofa facing the dining table a dozen or more feet away. And he got busy with his schedule of the 20 odd drops he would eventually pour that day into my eye, after removing my dark glasses each time.
And I complained to him:
"I am seeing two of those dining chairs side by side towards me"
And he comforted me saying that it will be ok after two hours during which I was asked to doze in the sofa.
After the prescribed waiting time of two hours I woke up and shouted at him:
"Your doctor is a quack...I still see two dining chairs over there"
And my son laughed and said:
"Ishani returned from school a while ago and dragged a second chair beside the earlier one!"
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After the Chief Surgeon finished his job of irrigation, aspiration and implantation, and his attendant pasted a black patch on my eye and led me to the anteroom, I was told by the Sister to lie down for an hour without thinking of my eye.
This reminded me of the proverb where a doctor prescribed a syrup to the patient in the good old days with the only precaution that the patient shouldn't think of a monkey's ass before drinking his syrup.
Meanwhile my son came in with the encouraging report that the Surgeon told him that my operation went very well...and left to buy the cataract kit.
And I was thinking for an hour of nothing but my eye...que sera sera...
The good hour passed rather quickly. And the Sister returned and said that her Chief was back in his chamber and was waiting to have a keen look at my eye...through his scope.
And she removed the black patch on my eye...that reminded me of the game we used to play in our childhood...blindman's buff.
And as she led me into the verandah it was a sort of revelation to me. It just happened that it was one of those rare sunny monsoon noons in Hyderabad and I was looking straight into the Bombay Highway with its buses, autos, cars and the busy Chandanagar Bazaar.
It all looked suddenly so very bright that it was hurting my eye and more so my brain.
But there was a catch...I was seeing two of everything closer...two Sisters, two attendants and two sons.
And I got scared.
Because it reminded me of the nasty spells of migraine I had for all of 7 years at Vizagh during my university days...double vision was the symptom of the onset of those virulent attacks...I suggest you better not have migraine if you can help it...toothache is far more welcome.
And I was led into the chamber of the Chief...I mean two Chiefs.
He asked me to sit down in front of his machine with my head thrust into his guillotine. And after inspecting the eye, shining all sorts of light beams on it, he declared:
"Very Good! Now you can meet the Counselor for the aftercare"
But I moaned:
"I am seeing well enough but two of everything'
And he smiled and said:
"It is the aftereffect of anesthesia...your eyeball is not able to move freely yet...it will pass in 2 hours"
And my son drove me back to our apartment and asked me to relax and sit down quietly in the sofa facing the dining table a dozen or more feet away. And he got busy with his schedule of the 20 odd drops he would eventually pour that day into my eye, after removing my dark glasses each time.
And I complained to him:
"I am seeing two of those dining chairs side by side towards me"
And he comforted me saying that it will be ok after two hours during which I was asked to doze in the sofa.
After the prescribed waiting time of two hours I woke up and shouted at him:
"Your doctor is a quack...I still see two dining chairs over there"
And my son laughed and said:
"Ishani returned from school a while ago and dragged a second chair beside the earlier one!"
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Dear Sir,
ReplyDeleteYou may have already received a request of this sort, still I am requesting you again. Will you please write a blog entry regarding this issue ---- "At 66, Mother India gets ready for her 29th baby" (credit: TOI, Jul 31, 2013 -- http://timesofindia.indiatimes.com/india/Telangana-At-66-Mother-India-gets-ready-for-her-29th-baby/articleshow/21495459.cms). As you have mentioned many times and in many ways that "India is a crazy country and I love it for that.". We, the followers of your blog, want to know how you perceive this particular issue. We understand that it is a controversial topic to write on, but we want to see it through your glasses (or your newly acquired lenses to be more precise!). We would be really glad if you kindly keep our request! :)
with best regards
a reader of your blog
Without doubt I love India and Indians at large...but...Indian politicos are a different set altogether. Still our crazy democracy ensures that they are accountable for Indians periodically. Frankly I guess it makes no bread and butter difference to our billions (including me).
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