12/07/2020
I dream of many lives, I cross the stage,
I dream that in this world, I can make a change
~ Dreamer Girl by Asa
Fortis Hospital, New Delhi India, March 28th 2013~ Queeneth's second surgery
The first surgery was done. I was happy. I felt like the victor of a long, painful but worthy marathon. Honestly, I was justified to feel very happy and fulfilled because the doctors had operated on the leg that looked a lot more severe and I survived it without feeling so much pain as an after surgery effect.
Congratulations to me! I've got no cause to fear for what the second surgery would look like. If I could get through the hardest surgery successfully, then why should the forthcoming, second surgery scare me?
The first surgery I had was pretty much complex and I wasn't even aware of it until I was taken back to my ward and then when I tried to sit on the bed, it was difficult because for some reason, there was this demanding, sear of pain emanating from the lower right side of my waist, pretty much close to my pelvic area.
I couldn't really figure out why I was feeling pain from that part of my body until the second surgery was done and I realized that the left side of my waist, close to my pelvic area as well was also hurting a lot. Anytime I tried to make movement or compose my body into a sitting posture, it felt like that part of my body was tearing bit by bit, epidermic of the skin above that area, tearing apart slowly as I tried to move.
What sort of pain is that? I wasn't even feeling that kind of intense pain in my legs where the corrective surgery was performed on.
Later on, when I saw the naked part of my waist that was hurting, I was surprised and so terrified to see a thick surgical scar on that part of my waist that was hurting but what terrified me the more was the sight of spiral metallic cribs, the end parts of each twist, dug on the surgical scar on my waist.
WHAT ARE THESE METALS DOING, ENCROACHED ONTO MY BODY??!!
Little wonder, why it constantly felt like my skin was tearing by each conscious flexing of a muscle in my body that I try to make but above all, what do my waists have to do with my legs?
But my intense curiosity was quenched, when my dad walked into my ward immediately after the meeting he had with the surgeon. He sat on the seat next to my bed, wondering why I was looking uncomfortable.
"Daddy, why is this thing covering the sides of my waist?" I asked, not knowing what it was as at that time, all I knew was that, it aggravated the fear and anxiety I was feeling. I was so scared that things had gone completely wrong during the surgery and maybe that was why I wasn't feeling much pain at first.
"The doctors discovered that you have an extra bone in your waist. The bone is very straight so they took the extra bone from the sides of your waist and joined to the crooked bone in your legs with a metal encased in your legs, joining both bones together. The doctors took an extra straight bone from your right waist and joined it to the crooked bone in your right leg and they did the same for your left leg as well."
I could understand the reason why now but an extra bone?? How come?? At first I wondered why on earth would the doctors remove an extra bone from one part of my body just to correct the crookedness in another part of my body without severe damage being done to the part that initially had no issues or complication but the word, "extra bone" neutralized all of the excessive thoughts I was harboring.
"Is this a normal thing? For people to have extra bones in their waists?" I could not help but ask for the sake of my bugging curiosity. I also hoped he would answer in the affirmative so I could heave a huge sigh of relief, knowing that I'm a normal human being.
"I don't think so..." My heart raced, perplexity being the underlying cause. "I think there are only a few people with such physical make up. Not everyone was an extra bone in their waist." He said.
Then my heart's racing beat slowed down by a few strides which were previously very mighty, making my chest constrict initially, then a tingling feeling of pride and thankfulness sprouts from the bottom fibers of my heart soon, it takes over the perplexity like an antivirus.
An extra bone. That's super cool! I mean, if I didn't have that in my body, who knows how the surgery would have been performed. I mean, it's a fascinating thing to know now that I think of it and it makes me feel like a superhuman with an extra advantage which eventually turned out to be super useful for this important moment of my life.
I really wanted to see both bone being held together. My inner man did a wide, ecstatic grin.
Knowing that for some reason had miraculously made the pain I had initially been feeling for hours subside. Sometimes, to get healing physically, emotional healing has to take place first. Sometimes, a little order is all that's needed for things to fall into place. Maybe the pain wasn't at terrible as I felt it was. It was probably more of my anxiety.
Anxiety mimics our fears.
The day after my first surgery but before my second surgery was fun and chilled. I was beginning to make friends with some of the nurses who worked at the hospital. There was this particular dark skinned nurse who looked so so beautiful. For some reason, she reminded me of textbook illustrations of carved goddesses that Asians used to worship. I mean, she just looked very surreal. I didn't get to relate for so long with her though because she got a transfer to Saudi Arabia, hence she had to leave India. We hugged each other the night before her departure.
But there was this particular Indian nurse, Nurse Antonia. She visited my ward very often and helped me with a lot of things; like a nurse assigned to take care of me.
There was also this other pretty Indian auxiliary nurse too whose name is Anita. She wasn't very fluent with English language and honestly, I used to mock her a lot whenever she spoke her colloquial English. The words she loved to say the most to me was, "sumall, sumall." Which was her failed attempt in trying to say the words, "small, small" I knew she meant to say "easy, easy" to me because I was in a lot of pain, but I found it funny and I just always wanted to have her around because she was fun.
Before the second surgery, I wasn't experiencing so much pain in my right leg; it was minimal and something I could bear because I had the whole day to rest before the following day. While I rested in my ward, staring at the piece of mashed potatoes I had been served with to eat and wondering how such an unbelievable meal could exist and definitely not daring to have a taste, my dad had decided to relax a bit so he went to see a particular family admitted to the hospital who just delivered a new born baby.
Honestly, I had high hopes of the meals the hospital had to serve because the fried rice I ate on the first day tasted really amazing but mashed potatoes and a small pack of yogurt with no sugar??
What???
I only managed to eat the slices of fruits that came as condiments to the main dish and I eventually drank the yogurt too. It wasn't outrightly awful but the mashed potatoes? I didn't even bother to remove the thin peace of nylon protecting the meal from having contact with open air.
Later on, my dad came back to spend the rest of the day with me and we discussed about the family who just welcomed a new baby. He showed me so many photos of them. The weather was warm and humid and friendly. I felt very relaxed.
I thought of the following day with minimal anxiety and fear enshrouded in my heart as it only hoped for the very best and courage to sustain me through the other half of my survival process. I couldn't wait to get it done with since I was feeling a lot better than I felt, minutes before my first surgery. There was no cause to be scared. I would do just fine. I had God on my side and he's worth the reliance.
I looked at my left leg, which was yet to be operated on, with a look of hope and a little sadness and warmth clouding over my heart, wandering when next I would get to see the fresh, bare skin of my leg again. Like a small smile of pain, overtook my lips, I bade my leg a small farewell in my heart...
***
The following day, it was time for the second surgery. My heart was all girded up and I couldn't wait to get to the surgery room and come out of it, with both legs being corrected. Honestly, I was still a little scared though but it was not beyond the ordinary. I guess I was just a little anxious because such a moment of my life is a really defining one so it was worth an iota of tension.
I didn't try to stay awake during this surgery. I just let it be, letting the doctors do their job peacefully but hours later, I woke up to find myself in that same cold, blue room but this time, intense ache bellowed beyond what I could comprehend, each tendon, muscle and bone on both of my legs hurting like a shaft of javelin had pierced through them, coursing and damaging through a thick wall.
How could my legs hurt this terribly beneath these thick set of plasters? Why were they hurting after the second surgery when they didn't hurt after the first surgery. Did it hurt this much because it didn't hurt the first time, hence the intensity of the pain was as a result of the combination of both newly operated legs?
Why does it hurt so much? Was the after effect of corrective surgeries always this painful?
"How do you feel?" My dad asked for the second time in three days but I gave a small smile encoded in obvious pain in contradiction to the mirth that graced my features two days ago. I didn't want to cry, I felt like I could bear it but truthfully it was so unbearable because my legs felt so heavy.
"My leg is paining me so much this time. I am really feeling the pain." I answered, still on my sick bed and definitely the person who felt the most uncomfortable in the entire world.
My mum would undoubtedly cry a lot today if my dad puts her on the phone for me to talk to her about how I feel after my second surgery because this time around, I was feeling the pain. For real...