When my b*m got operated

[Disclaimer: You read the caption right. But, this article has nothing of what you think it would have. It is neither nasty, nor obscene nor inappropriate nor immoral. It is not even a sad story. Sorry to disappoint.]

I think I was in 10th standard at that time. Old enough to get embarrassed.

I had developed weird, very small and round-shaped benign tumors one on my right chest and one on my.. yes, left bum. More like Sehwag & Gambhir Right-Left partnership. Vulnerable.

There was no pain whatsoever. Hardly noticeable too. I was perfectly fine living with that. Yet, my parents took me to a hospital near-by. Forcefully, of course.

That was a huge hospital, given the size of our tiny hometown. It had nurses. I mean, it surely had nurses. More than the patients, it just had nurses.

After waiting for some considerable time, one of the doctors called us inside his room. He examined those body parts of mine in front of some dozen people for few seconds and said, “Ok. There is nothing wrong with it. It will not cause any harm to the body.” I couldn’t be more happy.

He continued after a pause, “But, we should get it operated.” Shit had just hit the fan. I knew it. “Nothing serious. We will remove it tomorrow. And, you’ll be fine immediately after that.” I was fine by then too!

After I came back home, memorable movie scenes, where the hero undergoes serious operations, passed through my mind. I kind of liked it. Yet, I was scared. More than scared, I was embarrassed. Not sure, how the ‘operation’ will go on. Not sure, how I will be able to walk on the streets.

That Memorable Day

I was taken inside a tightly packed room with just a bed.

“When will you take me to the operation theater?”, I asked those six unwanted nurses who were guarding me generally.

Before any young nurse could answer, one fat lady nurse, “This IS the operation theater for you”. WHAT?! No lights above the head. None of them wearing masks. No boxes with wires. No TVs where I can see my heartbeats. Just like that, you cannot operate!

I was asked to remove my shirt and lie down on that bed, which more looked like a middle berth of a second class compartment.

Doctor came inside hurriedly. He was sporting a double-framed specs which didn’t fit his face at all. He asked me which one I would prefer first. I didn’t get that. He asked me again, with more clarity now, “Chest first or bum first?”. Not a happy situation. Not even a bit.

Since I didn’t answer within the limited time frame, he opted himself.

He initiated some stupid and irrelevant conversation. By the time I was wondering what the heck he was talking about, he injected anaesthesia on my chest. Aaah!

I felt much better after a minute.

Then came the best part!!

He looked at that fat lady nurse like South-Indian-movie-villain and asked, “Why are you not reading?”. Though I didn’t understand what he meant, I was happy with him screaming at that fat lady nurse. I didn’t like her. For obvious reasons.

Later I realized that, that fat lady nurse brought a book inside the room and she opened it to….READ!

Shell shocked I was. I mean, really, who does that? ‘Maybe he needs books to know how to operate’‘Maybe he likes listening to fancy fairy tales whilst operating a kid like me’. When I was pondering at Usain Bolt speed what is happening around me, she started reading.

Bible it was. Thank God.

But wait, are they reading Bible so that God can save me? Oh my!

Much against my anticipation, the so-called ‘operation’ got over in less than 15 minutes. Not-so-harming tumors got removed, much peacefully. I was all fine. Like I was before.

Just that cross-marked dressings lasted for few days before they could untie stitching.

Now, the marks that stitching left behind have faded mostly; but the memories are still afresh. Happy ending, after all!


2 Comments on “When my b*m got operated”

  1. Misaal Shah says:

    How I landed on your blog beats me. I assure you I DID NOT use bum as a search keyword.
    But, this was a funny read.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s