"When would the bus reach Coimbatore?" asked my 19 year old cousin, while we both had just boarded our bus at 10 pm from pudhukottai, to reach our respective colleges the next morning on a Monday, after a weekend well-spent in our native village.
"It should get there anytime between 4 to 5 AM", I whispered my reply after a quick inquiry.
The mood was pretty good as we kept chatting about movies and sports till we went off to sleep. We, being of the same age-group, had our mouths open always when with each other.
As he dozed off to sleep, I didn't find mine as yet. An uneasy feeling from the stomach had warranted more importance. Picking relevance from the Kingly dinner I had had that night, I figured out all wasn't well with digestion.
The time grew past 12, the stomach's problems were only increasing by every lonely minute. I began to throw-up out of the window of the last seat in the bus which I had occupied. The sound of my throw-ups and gasps woke up some of my co-passengers, as did my cousin brother too.
"What is the problem", echoed the visibly concerned elder brother of mine.
"Nothing but an upset stomach", I replied unconvincingly.
"Have water to help you out", he said, reaching out to me with the only bottle of water we had for us for that night.
As I used it to refresh me, I began to puke again. It seemed to be never-ending as the clock showed 2 AM. My physical pain had escalated eccentrically by then.
My watch had found its way to 3 AM when my words wasn't enough to explain the pain I had, in reply to my caring brother.
He, having known my history of problems which includes a surgery I had on my intestine as a ten-month old child, grew suspicious of the seriousness of the issue at hand.
"Should I give chittappa a ring now?", as he meant my father would be the person for him to address his concern to.
"No, lets reach home and see if I get better", I feebly replied. He understood I wasn't too keen on giving my father a disheartening wake-up call.
The bus had almost touched the outskirts of Coimbatore in the middle of all this by 4 in the morning.
He saw me spit out everything from food to coloured fluids to saliva as time called for dawn. He knew he had to notify someone for help now. He decided not to scare my father from bed in Chennai, so he rang up his father to address the issue without panic. Periyappa had inevitably taken the matter to my father in the best way possible without much haste. My dad, after the message had sunk in, made arrangements to take me to the hospital once I reached Coimbatore.
The bus reached Coimbatore at 5 AM as dawn reached us. We got down it. I hardly could even stand up straight as we waited for us to be taken to the hospital.
The first fluids of pain-killers brought me back to Earth after a 6 hour stay in hell. As diagnosis of my problem had started,the news grew serious across family circles. Mom and my maternal close-ones took the car from my native and Dad flew down on the first flight from Chennai. One of the most traumatic journeys in their lives,perhaps.
X-rays, blood samples and scans were taken from my body. I had become too weak to put any thoughts into mind or be an individual at all.
I asked one of the doctors who was considering my case, "What seems to be the problem?", to which she replied, "lets hope it is just a case of food-poisoning". I knew with the pain I had, that wasn't going to be the case although deep inside I wished it was.
Unable to come to a conclusion by early afternoon on what exactly was wrong, the Doctors called up my parents and advised for a laproscopic surgery to detail on the issue and correct it. Subsequently, I was made ready for the surgery with body hair near the stomach taken off. I felt a mixed state of tensed calmness. I didn't want myself to think anything.
By 3 PM in the late afternoon, I was guided to the operation theatre by the nurses. I had my dad waiting at the entrance of the theatre to leave me with 2 strong words-"Stay Confident". I replied with a nod, knowing that I needed to give him more confidence even though I didn't have much for myself at that point in time.
The operation bed moved near the doctor's medical kit. The doctor firstly wanted to get my mind ready for the operation. He began distracting my mind from the theatre's ambience. He questioned me about my college and the like. As my replies kept coming, an anesthetic drug filled my nerves growing from my right hand to my right shoulder. I went unconscious soon after.
I woke up on a bed of the ICU.
As I regained the feel of life, I asked the nurse nearby, "What is the time now?".
She replied, "6 o'clock"
My immediate question was,"Morning or Evening?".
The nurse with a caring smile said, "Morning. And the date is 31.12.2008"
I then realized I had lost a day in my life. I was operated on the 29th of December and woke back to existence on the day after.
As I moved up the bed, I put my hand on my stomach to feel it. I had a line of stitches on it. I then understood from the nurse that it was not just a laproscopic surgery that I had, but an open surgery as the problem seemed more complex.
I finally discovered from my surgeon that I was a case to intestinal hernia (a medical term which means the intestine has dislocated). I was also told by him that I was absolutely fine after the surgery. I questioned him on the cause of such a problem to me. He said that it was natural and by birth. He made it clear my food habits hadn't got anything to do with it. My guilty mind was put to death with that statement of his. He finally signed off saying, "You are no different to anyone anymore; You are as normal as me, we shall dine non-vegetarian together after 2 weeks". I wasn't strong enough to put out even a smile in return.
Soon after the visitor's time had commenced, only two had permission to visit my bed in the ICU. My sister earned the first right from my other members of the family. She came near my bed and had no words but just tears. I wanted to extend my arm to wipe it off but didn't have the physical strength to do so then. She was followed by my grand dad. He looked confident and gave me just that as he left. It was something I very badly needed then.
I made sure I didn't shed tears in front of people who care for me to show that I remained confident. Deep down my heart craved for pouring out all emotions. I finally cried out when the room turned dark that night. A new year, 2009, was born as I vented out all pain.
This 'pain' had taught me many things by then. Firstly, the worst of 'Pain' had made my mind and soul ready to accept what ever comes my way however bad they may seem to be. Every morning since then, I feel the surgery mark on my stomach and say to myself, "When you have handled this, you can handle anything that may come your way today". I have become more confident as a person since then.
Photo caption: On the road to recovery, dated: 10-01-2009
More importantly 'pain' had helped me to feel Love. From my father's words to my mother running her hand on my fore-head to my sister's tears and prayers, I felt love with every single minute during my recovery time. Perhaps, it is because I yearned for it the most then, that I felt it the most. That is why, I always now think that those days were a blessing in disguise.
The reason I wanted to share this blessing of mine with all of you is exactly this: having experienced the worst of 'pain', I made sure that I must not give it to any others in my life ahead for any reason. It sowed deep into me that my success had no meaning if that had come as a result of someone else's pain.
So would your success mean. Pain is something 'unbearable'. I wish none of us are a reason for causing it. Let us contribute to each other's happiness in every little way possible. Life will be beautiful. And so will be people.
With only Love and No pain,
Vignesh Nagappan.A
"It should get there anytime between 4 to 5 AM", I whispered my reply after a quick inquiry.
The mood was pretty good as we kept chatting about movies and sports till we went off to sleep. We, being of the same age-group, had our mouths open always when with each other.
As he dozed off to sleep, I didn't find mine as yet. An uneasy feeling from the stomach had warranted more importance. Picking relevance from the Kingly dinner I had had that night, I figured out all wasn't well with digestion.
The time grew past 12, the stomach's problems were only increasing by every lonely minute. I began to throw-up out of the window of the last seat in the bus which I had occupied. The sound of my throw-ups and gasps woke up some of my co-passengers, as did my cousin brother too.
"What is the problem", echoed the visibly concerned elder brother of mine.
"Nothing but an upset stomach", I replied unconvincingly.
"Have water to help you out", he said, reaching out to me with the only bottle of water we had for us for that night.
As I used it to refresh me, I began to puke again. It seemed to be never-ending as the clock showed 2 AM. My physical pain had escalated eccentrically by then.
My watch had found its way to 3 AM when my words wasn't enough to explain the pain I had, in reply to my caring brother.
He, having known my history of problems which includes a surgery I had on my intestine as a ten-month old child, grew suspicious of the seriousness of the issue at hand.
"Should I give chittappa a ring now?", as he meant my father would be the person for him to address his concern to.
"No, lets reach home and see if I get better", I feebly replied. He understood I wasn't too keen on giving my father a disheartening wake-up call.
The bus had almost touched the outskirts of Coimbatore in the middle of all this by 4 in the morning.
He saw me spit out everything from food to coloured fluids to saliva as time called for dawn. He knew he had to notify someone for help now. He decided not to scare my father from bed in Chennai, so he rang up his father to address the issue without panic. Periyappa had inevitably taken the matter to my father in the best way possible without much haste. My dad, after the message had sunk in, made arrangements to take me to the hospital once I reached Coimbatore.
The bus reached Coimbatore at 5 AM as dawn reached us. We got down it. I hardly could even stand up straight as we waited for us to be taken to the hospital.
The first fluids of pain-killers brought me back to Earth after a 6 hour stay in hell. As diagnosis of my problem had started,the news grew serious across family circles. Mom and my maternal close-ones took the car from my native and Dad flew down on the first flight from Chennai. One of the most traumatic journeys in their lives,perhaps.
X-rays, blood samples and scans were taken from my body. I had become too weak to put any thoughts into mind or be an individual at all.
I asked one of the doctors who was considering my case, "What seems to be the problem?", to which she replied, "lets hope it is just a case of food-poisoning". I knew with the pain I had, that wasn't going to be the case although deep inside I wished it was.
Unable to come to a conclusion by early afternoon on what exactly was wrong, the Doctors called up my parents and advised for a laproscopic surgery to detail on the issue and correct it. Subsequently, I was made ready for the surgery with body hair near the stomach taken off. I felt a mixed state of tensed calmness. I didn't want myself to think anything.
By 3 PM in the late afternoon, I was guided to the operation theatre by the nurses. I had my dad waiting at the entrance of the theatre to leave me with 2 strong words-"Stay Confident". I replied with a nod, knowing that I needed to give him more confidence even though I didn't have much for myself at that point in time.
The operation bed moved near the doctor's medical kit. The doctor firstly wanted to get my mind ready for the operation. He began distracting my mind from the theatre's ambience. He questioned me about my college and the like. As my replies kept coming, an anesthetic drug filled my nerves growing from my right hand to my right shoulder. I went unconscious soon after.
I woke up on a bed of the ICU.
As I regained the feel of life, I asked the nurse nearby, "What is the time now?".
She replied, "6 o'clock"
My immediate question was,"Morning or Evening?".
The nurse with a caring smile said, "Morning. And the date is 31.12.2008"
I then realized I had lost a day in my life. I was operated on the 29th of December and woke back to existence on the day after.
As I moved up the bed, I put my hand on my stomach to feel it. I had a line of stitches on it. I then understood from the nurse that it was not just a laproscopic surgery that I had, but an open surgery as the problem seemed more complex.
I finally discovered from my surgeon that I was a case to intestinal hernia (a medical term which means the intestine has dislocated). I was also told by him that I was absolutely fine after the surgery. I questioned him on the cause of such a problem to me. He said that it was natural and by birth. He made it clear my food habits hadn't got anything to do with it. My guilty mind was put to death with that statement of his. He finally signed off saying, "You are no different to anyone anymore; You are as normal as me, we shall dine non-vegetarian together after 2 weeks". I wasn't strong enough to put out even a smile in return.
Soon after the visitor's time had commenced, only two had permission to visit my bed in the ICU. My sister earned the first right from my other members of the family. She came near my bed and had no words but just tears. I wanted to extend my arm to wipe it off but didn't have the physical strength to do so then. She was followed by my grand dad. He looked confident and gave me just that as he left. It was something I very badly needed then.
I made sure I didn't shed tears in front of people who care for me to show that I remained confident. Deep down my heart craved for pouring out all emotions. I finally cried out when the room turned dark that night. A new year, 2009, was born as I vented out all pain.
This 'pain' had taught me many things by then. Firstly, the worst of 'Pain' had made my mind and soul ready to accept what ever comes my way however bad they may seem to be. Every morning since then, I feel the surgery mark on my stomach and say to myself, "When you have handled this, you can handle anything that may come your way today". I have become more confident as a person since then.
Photo caption: On the road to recovery, dated: 10-01-2009
More importantly 'pain' had helped me to feel Love. From my father's words to my mother running her hand on my fore-head to my sister's tears and prayers, I felt love with every single minute during my recovery time. Perhaps, it is because I yearned for it the most then, that I felt it the most. That is why, I always now think that those days were a blessing in disguise.
The reason I wanted to share this blessing of mine with all of you is exactly this: having experienced the worst of 'pain', I made sure that I must not give it to any others in my life ahead for any reason. It sowed deep into me that my success had no meaning if that had come as a result of someone else's pain.
So would your success mean. Pain is something 'unbearable'. I wish none of us are a reason for causing it. Let us contribute to each other's happiness in every little way possible. Life will be beautiful. And so will be people.
With only Love and No pain,
Vignesh Nagappan.A
