Gym to Dr. Jim: An Unplanned Detour (PART- 3)
The routine at the hospital was pretty much monotonous as my stay dragged longer than we had initially anticipated. One evening, a nurse walked into my room holding a small canister. She introduced it as a painkiller nasal spray.
Nurse: Lean your head backwards.
Two sharp sprays, and even my soul had burnt.
So much for being a painkiller!
I lay there for the next three hours, waiting for the stinging to subside, occasionally tasting the bitter liquid that had slipped down my throat. Tears streamed down my face, and I cried myself to sleep.
The next morning, I waited anxiously as my sister, following the nurse’s instructions, opened the canister. It was time for the next round of sting. My heart raced with dread. Just like the day before, the sprays were swift and stinging. As the familiar burn began to spread and my eyes welled up, Dr. Jim walked in.
Being the patient (and possibly helpless) listener that he was, Dr. Jim stood there attentively as I ranted about this ‘not-a-painkiller-but-a-pain-giver’ spray. Trying to convince me that the problem was with the manner in which the spray was administered, not the spray itself, he gently asked if I would be willing to give the spray another chance.
“No, doctor. Please,” was all I could manage between my sobs, before I completely broke down. I was not in pain, it was the spray’s sting that had peaked and made me tear up. My mother-in-law and the doctor stared at me, baffled by the tears. We exchanged glares in the now silent room.
And just then, my sister strolled in with a cup of tea.
Perfect timing, really.
We all turned to her. She quietly slipped to a corner of the room, pretending not to be there.
Turning to us, the doctor assured me that I wouldn’t have to use the spray again. A minute later, he added:
Dr. Jim: I believe you need the expertise of a senior doctor from the Neurology department. I’ll arrange a consultation for you.
My mother-in-law chimed in with a name.
MIL: You mean Dr. Ajit?
Dr. Jim: Ah, yes!
‘Dr. Ajit’, the name had a ring to it.
‘Where have I heard of him?’, I pondered.
As Dr. Jim left the room, I turned to my mother-in-law and inquired. She reminded me how my husband’s grandparents used to gush about Dr. Ajit. “Just at the mere sight of him, my pain would go away”, they used to claim. It was a testimony of the impact a doctor could have on their patient, an influence I was soon to understand in Dr. Jim’s company.
I looked forward to meeting Dr. Ajit that day.
As the evening drew closer, I glanced at my watch. It was almost half past five. My sister had managed to sleep through the soft conversation and muffled chatter I had with my mother-in-law. She lay there peacefully in the bed opposite mine, head facing the foot of the bed.
Just then, the door flung open. A middle aged doctor, closely followed by a group of younger ones, entered the room. This was Dr. Ajit, the senior neurologist that Dr. Jim had mentioned. He paused for a moment at the doorway, glanced at my sleeping sister, and then quietly leaned over to her.
Two loud claps!
Without warning, he clapped his hands right above her head. We were all expecting her to startle awake, but my sister could not have woken up any slower. Then trying to sound innocent, the doctor went on to explain:
Dr. Ajit: Oh, did I wake you up? I was trying to kill a mosquito.
Surrounded by an amused audience, he came up to me.
Dr Ajit: Ah, such a young person! I was expecting someone older. What’s a slim person like you hitting the gym for?
‘Slim?’ I couldn’t help but feel a burst of joy, practically dancing in my head.
I liked him already.
Dr. Ajit: What happened to you?
I went on to narrate my two month long journey, trying to keep it as concise as possible, but it turns out I wasn’t that brief. Accustomed to sharing openly with Dr. Jim, I found myself recounting every detail. Throughout the narration, he nodded his head in agreement, all the while examining me with a tool that resembled a hammer.
Leaning over to my mother-in-law, he whispered sarcastically:
Dr. Ajit: What an explanation! She should be writing novels.
The conversation gradually meandered to more personal topics: “Where do you live? Where are you from? What do you do for a living?” At one point, as the topic veered towards the Supreme Court, Dr. Ajit’s face lit up with excitement.
An ardent admirer of the Chief Justice of India, the mere mention of the apex court sparked a flurry of questions and answers. Fortunately, being a fellow admirer of the tech-savvy Chief Justice, I was well-prepared to handle any question Dr. Ajit could throw my way. However, it was the young doctors (residents, I presume) who became the embarrassed and nervous victims of his inquiries.
Dr. Ajit: Who currently holds the position of Chief Justice of India?
Silence.
I interjected.
Me: It’s Dr. Justice D.Y. Chandrachud.
Dr. Ajit hushed me with a gesture and redirected his attention to the young doctors.
Dr. Ajit: What does the D and Y stand for in his name ? His father was a chief Justice too, now you tell me his name.
The clueless young doctors smiled; and just like that, we were all cheerfully diverted from the otherwise somber atmosphere of the hospital. Dr. Ajit went on to share some interesting trivia about our Chief Justice, almost sounding like a law professor. His admiration was evident, and I was surprised to hear a senior doctor speak so passionately about someone so remotely connected to his profession.
Once he was through with the examination, the doctor said to me:
Dr. Ajit: There is no need to worry. You are in safe hands. Dr. Jim has prescribed you all the right medicines that even I would have given you. I will just add one more to the list, and we will be fit and ready to go back home soon. I will discuss the rest with your doctor.
Me: Thank you, doctor.
Promising to send his junior doctors, in his absence if a need were to arise, he resigned.
Later that evening, the rest of my family joined us for tea. We cheerfully recounted the day’s events to them. The evening had turned beautiful, and I had my doctors to thank for it.
“I’ll write a story about all this someday”, I thought to myself, taking a sip.
Every day, my family members took turns sitting with me as my bystander. My sister, who was with me throughout the stay, would go back home every evening, and my husband and mother-in-law would take her place.
Dr. Jim had earned another patient in my husband, as he had strained his back (sympathy pains, I would call them). This meant my sister had to look after me the most, and she did it with utmost dedication. I had become her responsibility, and it meant waking up in the middle of the night during an emergency, helping me go to the bathroom, bathing me, getting my meals on time, and ordering food online when we were tired of hospital or homemade meals.
My sister shared all the hospital memories, both good and bad, with me. People often mistook her for my blood relative, hardly believing me when I told them she was my husband’s sister. But her care only cemented their beliefs.
We were notorious in our block for being the only ones awake most of the night, as we never turned off the room’s lights in case I needed to get up. I slept throughout the day thanks to my medications, but my pain kept me up at night. Every morning, Dr. Jim would ask how well I had slept the previous night, and I would tell him I had only slept an hour or two, waking up every ten minutes because of pain. The night I finally managed to sleep for three hours straight was an achievement we both celebrated.
Through the sleepless nights, I watched my sister, exhausted from managing her responsibilities at the hospital and her office work (thank God for remote work), fall asleep with her phone playing Instagram reels. Of course, she was too exhausted to watch them. I am sure no matter how deeply she slept, she remained alert as the responsible bystander.
One Friday night, I heard a ‘thud’ from the balcony adjacent to my room.
Me: Did you hear that?
Sister: Yes. It’s probably coming from outside.
Me: The wind must have knocked something over.
Locked inside our air-conditioned room, we didn’t notice that there was no wind blowing. We ignored the sound and went back to sleep.
The next morning, when the cleaning staff came to our room, we discovered that the waste bin on the balcony had been toppled over, spilling food remains all over the floor.
‘One of the stray cats on a night patrol must have done this’, I speculated.
After apologizing to the staff, we made sure to place something heavy on top of the bin at night to prevent the cat from knocking it over again. After the cleaning staff finished their work, we sat down for breakfast.
Soon after, Dr. Jim entered the room accompanied by a nurse carrying my patient file. Our routine unfolded as usual: I provided a detailed update on my health since our last meeting from the previous evening, and Dr. Jim listened attentively without interruption. He followed up with a few questions, including his customary “Did you get proper sleep last night?”
As my doctor and nurse buried themselves into my patient file, reviewing and updating it, I couldn’t help but notice that Dr. Jim wasn’t dressed in his usual attire. He had departed from the usual formal wear to a more casual T-shirt and jeans.
After they left the room, I drifted back to sleep while my sister resumed her work on her laptop.
An hour or two had passed when I was partially awakened by the sound of whispers nearby. I rolled over to find Sister Teresa, the supervisor, speaking with my sister.
Sr. Teresa: Oh dear, did we wake you up?
“Good morning, Sister,” I replied as I started to sit up.
Sr. Teresa: No, dear, please lie down. I’ve just come to check on you. I’ve been in constant touch with Dr. Jim. I have wanted to come see you since the first day, but my leg hasn’t allowed it.
It was only then that we noticed her bandaged leg.
Us: Sister, what happened to your leg?
She explained that she had undergone surgery a few days ago. She was supposed to be on complete bed rest but had sneaked out to see me. No one, not even her doctor, knew she had left her room. She knew that if she were to be caught, she would be forced to resign to her bed.
We felt bad for Sister Teresa and kept urging her to go back and rest, almost scolding her for not following her doctor’s orders. Amidst the commotion, I happened to mention that I had informed Dr. Jim of my condition that very morning. A visibly surprised Sr. Teresa responded:
Sr. Teresa: Was Dr. Jim here this morning?
Me: Yes, he came about an hour ago.
Sr. Teresa: But he is on leave today.
That explained his casual wear that morning. I wasn’t sure if Dr. Jim had come to the hospital to handle other matters or just to check on his patients. Regardless, I was grateful that he made time to check on my health even on his day off.
After our earnest pleas for her to rest, Sister Teresa eventually retired to her room, promising to return when she felt better.
I lay back in bed, filled with gratitude for Sister Teresa and Dr. Jim, who had both quietly ensured I was doing okay.
To be continued in the Final Part….
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