BLOG POST 3: AN INSANE WISH GRANTED
When I was small, I had always fantasised myself going to school with a fracture. I know this would seem eerie to normal human intellect, but I had my reasons. When I was in grade three, I had a classmate who fractured her leg in a car crash. I was too obsessed with all that care and attention she was getting to even notice the pain and embarrassment she must had been going through. Every morning when I squirmed my way out of the crowded school van, I would see her getting dropped off right in front of the school gate in a royal car, placed on a wheelchair and rolled all the way to class. The fact that she didn’t even have to make the slightest effort to walk made me admire that whole situation with awe. So there was the inspiration to that weird wish. I had carried that same wish all along with me until that dreadful day when I least expected something like this could happen so easily.
I was in Grade six when my parents had brought me and my sister along to visit our uncle. He too had kids of my age, the elder one slightly older than me. They had just recently bought a new boy’s cycle for their son. You probably know how this boy’s cycle is. It looks sporty and the person riding it looks like a real bicycler but the only predicament that lies with it is that if you are short you will have to jump off the seat to bring the cycle to a sudden stop. The brakes alone won’t help. So, that day I, my sister and cousin sister had the stupidest idea of taking the bicycle to the ground below their apartment and play. We took turns to ride the cycle. Everyone could go two rounds around that whole ground and then pass the cycle to the next person. I being the most adamant and noisy one of the three, procured the first chance to ride the cycle. I was so thrilled and excited by the experience. I eagerly waited for my next chance. My younger sister couldn’t even make her legs to the pedal, yet she wouldn’t let go of the golden offer she got. She managed to complete one round riding as slow as possible. Now it was my chance again. I hopped on to the cycle and completed my first two rounds in a jiffy. I didn’t want this cycle experience to cease. So as I advanced towards the end of the second round, I cycled even faster and faster so that they couldn’t stop me and I could have my third chance in one go. What I encountered later was something that I hadn’t even thought of in my wildest dreams.
My cousin sister jumped right in front of the cycle. I had barely seconds left to stop the cycle. I applied brakes with all my might and jumped off the cycle but it was all too late. I hit her with an impact not strong enough to kill her, but I did knock her down and fell to my side with the cycle on me. All of this happened too fast to even register how it happened into my consciousness. Later, I realised I couldn’t even get up from the ground where I lay. I was whining with pain. My cousin was really sorry for what she had done, but I was furious at her for the pain I was going through. Somehow, I managed to reach the lift with them following me behind with the cycle. I ran into the apartment sat in a room and started crying loudly with pain. My wrist had swollen up and I didn’t know what to do. My wails had attracted everyone’s attention by now. I was taken to the hospital emergency ward where they took an X-ray, plastered my hand all the way to my elbow and let me lie on a bed. It was one of the most upmarket and luxurious hospitals in Dubai. Although I was too young to realise it back then, I now feel lucky that I had the chance to relish a hospital like that at least once in my life. My parents were informed that the bone in my wrist had been displaced and surgery would have to be done to place it back in position. I was told to arrive in the morning the next day with an empty stomach. My parents were completely new to Dubai then. My father had just joined his new company six months ago and acquired his driving licence just one month back. My guardian angel had to choose only that night to go all over the map. We had taken one wrong turn and we were meandering all around Dubai’s traffic for three hours until we finally reached home.
The next morning, we set out early to reach on time in case we lost our way. We were given a room to settle in. It was spacious, had a bed, TV and magazines. My parents could wait there until I was done with the operation. The nurse came in with the dressing gown I had to change into. It was one with straps at the back which had to be tied. On top of that, they gave me a plastic underwear. I felt completely naked and weird. What if they undressed me inside the operation theatre? Who would know what they did to me? I had to remove my earrings and chain as they wouldn’t allow any sort of metal into that room.
The nurse came in again, this time with five other nurses. One of them told me to lie on the bed and all of them strolled me into the operation theatre. You know I could have walked. I felt useless when someone else had to do the walking for me. I realised then how dumb my wish was and how terrible that girl must have felt when she was being strolled to class every day in front of her friends. After I was inside, my doctor came. Oh yeah I forgot, the nurse gave me an apple juice in a measuring cup. I hadn’t realised it was anaesthesia back then, but now I know. The doctor started asking me all about myself and what I liked to do and so on and I hadn’t realised that soon I had been sleeping. His interrogation session was just to make sure that I had slept before he could commence his work. So, I don’t know what happened after that. I woke up five hours later and had food. I was told that they had inserted steel pins inside my hand to keep the bone in place and plastered it so that in a month it would settle in place. Later they would perform one more surgery and get the pins removed.
One month later, the pins were removed and my hand was back to normal. All of it was beautifully done except for those gargantuan bills we were charged with. Luckily, it had all been covered by my father’s company insurance. The doctor was really sweet and friendly. I still do pray that every patient gets to see doctors like him because they make us forget what we are going through.
Just in case the doctor who helped me is reading this, my operated hand is now shorter than the other one and just can’t be pulled straight. I noticed it only one year later when I had been giving my measurements to stitch a salwar for myself. The tailor kept insisting me to keep my hand straight but I couldn’t. After a big tug of war, she gave up and took the measurement of my other hand. Did you by chance pull my radius or ulna to fill up the space which had no bone? Lol! Anyways thank you for bringing my hand back to normal again. I can do whatever I want to now.
That day I realised how insane it was to carry a wish like that around. After all, I had to learn my lesson. It’s not easy carrying your hand around in plaster for two whole months. Having to call your mom to do even the simplest of things. Not being able to wear your clothes or comb your hair without assistance is terrible. I can imagine it would have been worse if it was my leg.
