Gym to Dr. Jim: An Unplanned Detour (Final Part)
Thud!
There it was again — the familiar sound of the waste bin toppling over.
As always, my sister and I chose to ignore the cat; we were accustomed to his behavior.
Our stay at the hospital had extended beyond a week, and it had significantly altered our routine. At home, we were used to waking up late in the morning, but now we rose by five every day.
It was almost half past five that morning when my sister’s alarm went off. She got up and left for the cafeteria with a thermal flask to get our morning tea, while I sat up in bed and pulled the curtains close to my bed to witness the break of dawn. The hospital was quiet, and you could only hear the soft sound of prayers coming from a nearby chapel.
After a while, my sister entered the room, beaming with pride. She proudly held a thermal flask in one hand and a bundle of items in the other — a pair of yellow combs, a Snickers bar, a few Center Fresh mints, and a small bottle of sanitizer.
Me: I see you went shopping.
She proceeded to recount, with an air of excitement, how the shopkeeper had presented her with a choice between a pink and a yellow comb, and how she overcame her urge not to settle with a pink. I listened attentively, sharing in her innocent delight.
We were soon joined by two nurses who had come to check on my vitals. The silence that once enveloped the room during those early days had now given way to casual conversations. After they left, we freshened up.
By eight, we were through with breakfast and the morning round of medicines. A nurse came to the room and asked me to head to the physiotherapy department for my first session. We informed her that we were waiting for Dr. Jim to come for his morning rounds and that we would go to physiotherapy after I had shared my health update with him. She agreed and left.
After the doctor’s visit, my sister called the nurse to let her know that I was ready to go for physiotherapy. A few minutes later, the curly-haired man in a green uniform, whom I had met on my first day at the hospital, came in with a wheelchair to take me to the physiotherapy department. Not that I needed the wheelchair, but since the physiotherapy department was farther away from my block and I was not in a condition to climb the steep slopes that led to the entrance of that building, it was thought wise to take me in a wheelchair.
The scene outside the physiotherapy department was a sight to behold. A group of nervous nursing students, sweating and panicking, stood outside a room adjacent to the physiotherapy department. As we passed them, we noticed a bunch of students and a few angry doctors inside the room. It was their viva voce exam. It was so relatable.
As I settled myself on one of the beds in the physiotherapy room, I could hear muffled voices from across the wall — some funny, some delivering brutal scoldings, and others offering sarcastic praise. At one point, I was sure I heard Dr. Ajit ask one of the students if they had slept and eaten well, just to calm their nerves. For the rest of the time, I was distracted by a tiny, but beautifully designed, green spider on the ceiling.
It was almost noon when we returned to our room after the physiotherapy session.
Sister: I will go to the canteen, and check if lunch is ready.
As my sister left, I received a call from her. When I answered, I could hear the excitement in her voice:
Sister: They are serving biryani today!
It wasn’t every day that we checked the canteen menu as our mom would bring us delicious warm home-cooked meals. But we had specifically asked her not to bring us anything today, and we were now proud of our decision.
While my sister stood in line to collect the biryani, she noticed a woman in her late 50s wearing a bright green saree and huge golden hoops hanging from her ears. The woman even had makeup on. She was also there to collect food for a patient at the hospital. Amidst a crowd of bystanders in pajamas, she stood out. My sister’s initial admiration quickly turned to a frown as the woman cut through the line, overtaking the rest, only to be scolded and embarrassingly sent back to her place in line.
The biryani was good, though not as good as our mom’s, but we were just happy with the unexpected addition to the menu that day. Of course, we didn’t realize at the time that this special treat was only served one day a week, but we couldn’t help but hope for it every day.
After the heavy lunch, we spent the rest of the afternoon napping (if you could call 3 hours a nap). It was the only quiet time of the day when we had no visitors. The rest of the evening went by as usual.
Now that we got up early in the day, we also fell asleep early. The two sleepless people, known in that block for never sleeping or turning off the room’s lights at night, were now in bed by half-past ten, with the lights off as well. We’d keep the adjacent balcony’s lights on in case I needed to get up.
Sometime past midnight, I woke to sudden pain. I immediately called for my sister, who was fast asleep. In a matter of minutes, the room was fully lit, and we were joined by an on-call doctor and a nurse. As the doctor examined me, I couldn’t help but notice the familiar maroon salwar she was wearing.
She sent for a bottle of medicine. Almost immediately, we exchanged glances. Sounding pleasantly surprised, she said,
Doctor: Aren’t you Jim sir’s patient? We met that day at the casualty, right?
I agreed, and that’s when I also remembered her two amusing patients from that day. As the doctor left our room, she promised to update Dr. Jim about this the next morning.
The room was quiet and dark again, and as I prepared to go back to sleep, I heard a small noise from the balcony.
I sat up and pulled aside the curtains separating my room from the balcony.
A round-faced orange cat, a little overweight, was struggling to get himself through the holes in the cement wall of the balcony. Although the wall’s design had much larger holes, the cat chose the smallest. Not a wise cat, one could say. He seemed to be hell-bent on proving the ‘Cats are liquid’ theory. After what seemed like an endless struggle, he got himself in.
He then jumped onto the waste bin lying there.
Thud!
And that’s when it became clear that he was using the bin as a ladder to climb down, but being overweight, he couldn’t help but knock it over every time.
I turned over to tell my sister that our furry friend had arrived, but she was already in bed.
The cat stared at me until his eyes started drooping, and he crawled into the corner, tucked in his paws, and slept. I lay there in silence watching the cat and my sister both settle in and fall asleep. I was glad to have their company.
Towards the final days of my hospital stay, as I started to recover, my husband would take me out for evening walks around the hospital grounds. One evening, as we were leaving our block, we bumped into Dr. Jim, who was heading to the canteen in the adjacent block for his tea.
Husband: Good evening, doctor. We just came out for an evening walk.
Dr. Jim: Good. It’s always better to be out in nature; it’s good for your body and mind.
We couldn’t agree more. The hospital had a beautiful, lush green garden. Luckily for me, it was the pre-monsoon season, which meant a light drizzle and cold but pleasant winds. There was nothing more refreshing than being out in nature after spending forever inside the hospital.
In the days that followed, I was discharged, but I still had follow-up consultations with Dr. Jim. To our surprise, during these visits, my husband and I often had unexpected encounters with hospital staff — nurses and attendants — who would run up to us and ask how I was doing. It felt wonderful to know they cared. Their genuine concern made me feel valued, a feeling only a patient can truly comprehend.
Over the months, we developed a fond respect for Dr. Jim. Our conversations with him were always light, open, and free-flowing. He was as invested in listening to us as we were in sharing everything with him. He consistently discouraged the use of medicines whenever I requested them. Instead, he always found ways to reduce dosages or adjust the strength of the medications, encouraging me to rely more on physiotherapy. Despite his serious approach to treatment, the doctor didn’t mind joking around with my husband and me, both of whom had been his patients.
One day during a consultation, I confessed to Dr. Jim that I had hit an emotional low during the months I was unwell. He responded:
Dr. Jim: It happens. When things like this occur, they bring a sudden halt to our plans, which can make us feel low.
He further explained how each of us has a different physical build, which contributes to the pain we experience.
Dr. Jim: We are all unique. Our bodies respond to pain in different ways. A minor injury for one person may cause immense pain, while another person with a major injury might go about their life without being much bothered by it.
He went on to admit that medical reports and tests could never fully determine what a patient was experiencing.
Dr. Jim: If you place a 30 cm plastic ruler next to a 10 cm one and apply equal force on both of them, which one do you think would break first?
Me: The taller one.
Dr. Jim: Exactly.
I understood that I was the tall ruler in his example, given my height. He further emphasized the importance of strengthening one’s core and back muscles before engaging in any physical activities.
After the consultation, my husband and I waited outside the pharmacy counter. Just then, a nurse came running up to us. I already knew it was someone who had taken care of me when I was admitted.
Nurse: Hi, you’re Jim sir’s patient, right? Do you remember me?
I hesitated.
Nurse: I took care of you when you were here. I was posted in your block for a few days. How are you now?
I explained my progress, trying with all my might to remember who she was. It would not have been so hard to recognize the nurses and other hospital staff if there hadn’t been so many unfamiliar faces to get acquainted with in such a short span of time. And worse of all, they were all in masks all the time! Nonetheless, I was able to identify some and apologized to the rest for not being able to recognize them.
As my consultations with Dr. Jim came to an end, he advised us to focus solely on physiotherapy and exercise.
After contacting many physiotherapy centers, we found a physiotherapist named Betsy who ran an independent clinic. Our first encounter with her marked the beginning of a warm and open relationship.
“I am Betsy,” she introduced herself excitedly when my husband and I first visited her clinic. Her name rhymed so well with mine. Under her care, I made a quick and healthy recovery.
Throughout the months of treatment, Betsy managed to notice and address not just my back issues but also the ailments my body had developed during the time I was unwell. I never had to tell her that I was in pain; she was always the first to discover anything unusual or any weakness that I had largely ignored while focusing on my back pain.
I couldn’t help but notice that Dr. Jim and Betsy had a lot in common. Their similar dedication to their patients was evident, and it was also clear from how they explained everything to me that both had deep knowledge of their respective fields. They were humble enough to admit when they were unsure about something. Despite not knowing each other, they both gave the same advice regarding treatments, which only strengthened my absolute trust in them. “Dr. Jim and Betsy both work like a team,” I would often tell my husband.
Their shared trait of humble reluctance to accept my gratitude has inspired me to write this short story. Reflecting on my journey now, I am filled with nothing but gratitude for everyone who helped me get back on my feet, whether through their care and treatment or through their prayers. I felt God’s presence with me through you all, and no words can express my gratitude for the role that God played in my healing.
Oh, and before I forget, no expression of gratitude would be complete without mentioning my furry friend, the nightcrawler. Despite being an annoying presence on the balcony every night, you kept me company. I never called you, and you never meowed back. We would just stare at each other until one of us tucked in our paws and fell asleep.
The End.
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