As relieving as I was, I became speechless seeing my family (my mom and my aunt). At that time, I felt that I had done something terribly wrong. I felt sorry to being in a situation like that and had my family visiting me in that situation but very soon, the pain overwhelmed my sorrow... Despite the about- to- get- worse- pain, my stomach was starting a war, but I had the slightest appetite to eat anything. Coincidentally, nurses over there were starting to distribute the dinners to all the patients in that room (you’re right, it was dinner time). The dinner was ordinary, a piece of fish (getting some ‘smart protein’ to be a wiser man next time...), portion of vegetable (multivitamin) and a slice of watermelon(nothing much to gain, all H2O). Sitting at my bed, looking at the dinner and behaving like a log (the pain was turning me into a motion sensitive human). My mom called me to eat something, fearing for gastric, so I started... Each spoonful of my dinner reminded me (all of us too, healthy human being) of how lucky I was prior to that Fateful Day. Hospital, besides being a place for nursing physical conditions, it was also a place that brings me to my humble self. Countless situations, good or bad, came before our eyes once we stepped into that place. How could I not to be humbled, so seems like it was a place of self- reflecting too. Each fed of mine was accompanied by pain, and soon after, I stopped eating (only ate 5 or so spoons). The family of my new found hospital bed neighbor came, brought him some things along. The dinner plate at his bed was left untouched; I thought he was not capable to even lift the spoon. Lucky his family came to help him out. My aunt had conversed with them and found out that he crashed into the back of a lorry three days ago, causing him to be in that kind of state. So seemed how lucky I was, only with a broken foot, a deep cut wound and some scratches.
A nurse with a wheelchair came over my bed, saying that I was naughty for crashing my bike and I would be given some pain as a penalty (Ha-ha). I was sweating cold, thinking about what to follow up later but I had no choice, so I just followed the ‘flow’ as I was already fallen into the ‘stream’. He pushed me until a surgery room; my mind was unclear already, starting to have delusion (I was not able to clearly remember all things that were happening). There I saw Mr. Theva, the Orthopedic and his two trainees’ doc (one being the cold- hearted dog, urm... doc). I got up and lied on the operating table (I was thinking: “God, this must be IT”). Mr. Theva said to me that I was about to have my cut wound stitched up. I said ok but a signal from my mind, went like: “Can I not have it? Maybe just let the wound heals by itself, because our body has the ability to heal itself, even the cuts, I think...”. Although I was sweating cold, by seeing him preparing the instruments, I knew it would be stupid to say what I was thinking at that time and it was not a time for voicing out personal opinion too, I had to let the doc did his duty. Being a cold- hearted trainee doc, the guy was going to have his dinner and asked for what Mr. Theva would like to have for his, he got a reply of ‘mee goreng’. He left satisfied with the order. The time I thought was 7.30pm and I would be getting the sharpest pain ever...
First, I was cleaned up of my wound and then given a shot (anesthetic) at my foot (third shot of the day), I didn’t feel anything although the doc informed me prior to it (adding a pain to an already in pain foot, so I guess it didn’t matter at all). I always had some fear for needle, especially those used for blood test; I could faint after a blood test (a 2/3 chance, sigh... I heard from the nurses more guys who fainted after blood test than girls). After few minutes of anesthetic, the doc started the stitching. I felt my foot was numb; I wasn’t sure what he did as I wasn’t that interested into a bloody job, and it had a sensation like plaster peeling off at my wound. I felt he was cutting off the dead skin surrounding the wound, later he said he was because the skin was turning black (may be short of blood). Then felt he washed it with water, then just repeated the ‘plaster peeling procedure’. There was no pain (as my foot was numb) until a point, I was like:’ Ouch! It hurts like hell.’ It was a sharp pain, occurring between my last and the fourth toe, guessed it was a stitch in a place that was not covered by anesthetic or probably the needle went through some nerves or something (anesthetic only for muscle to become numb, I think...). At that time, grabbing tight to my Holy Verse, praying that please let me felt the pain, only once... The procedure went on smoothly, the doc (Mr. Theva) was doing his job, the room was silent but my mind wasn’t. My mind was thinking about many things, just can’t remember clearly what they were. It was again became longest period of my life (a 30 min surgery, felt like an hour).
I also had an experience of doing a MRI (Magnetic Resonance Imaging) last year, it was quite scary though. I couldn’t move inside the tight chamber for 30 minutes (not suggested to move as it might create a blurry image), only capable of hearing my own heartbeat after the much noisy magnetic generating device had stopped (the device ran for 5 min or so then stopped for about 2 min, and the cycle repeated itself). Hearing my own heartbeat, and I was confined, so guessed what, I thought it had about 120 beats/sec. But the longer I stayed in that place, the calmer I became. I think it was because I already started to get used to it. That time, I was scanning my brain only; the price was about RM 1000+ (too expensive) and the result showed that I still had my brain inside my head, nothing much nothing less (RM 1000+ just dropped into deep sea). I wish someday people would invent a much more comfortable device for the MRI, at least for the sake of Claustrophobia (urm, not sure whether I got the phobia or not as I got used to it later).
After a few less than the sharpest pain’s pains, the minor surgery was over and I was relieved (too early it might seem, but nothing else could I feel). I was pushed back to my bed and on the way back, the TV3 newscasters started to report news, so the time was 8pm (still a 4 hour to the end of the Fateful Friday). Hearing the news (didn’t care what they were reporting), I was gratified I wouldn’t be on the news the very next day. Sitting on my bed, I felt I had been through quite a something, may be because of the adrenalin rush (sharpest pain’s aftermath), I felt like I could conquer the world! BUT, I just wanted to go home... BUT, the doc said I would be staying for the night, in case of anything left undetected from my ordeal. So I had no plane to catch, sitting at my bed, explaining the ‘Unexplained SEVEN’ to my mom and aunt, feeling the post- adrenalin’s dopamine. The effect was like morphine (though I never had it), it suppressed my pain (at least for that time) and I was at my calmest. Outside the window, I could see a neon lamp, and through it too I saw the rain, guessed it was a cold, long night ahead.
Then familiar faces appeared; the ‘cold’ doc (may be because of the weather) and the nurse, who pushed me here and there. Didn’t remember what the doc said (he deafened my ears already with his words earlier) and the nurse was pushing me to get my left foot casted in plaster. There I was, out for a ride in the wheelchair again and followed a lift down to the ground floor, I arrived at the plaster room. Inside the room were an old man and his assistant who pushed me in. The rain was heavy at that time and thunders struck like it was in a no man’s land. The room was filled with the smells of Gypsum (I didn’t like it much), and I was measured of my leg dimensions by the old man. My leg, at that time, already became ‘not my leg’ anymore as I hardly felt the sensation of it. The old man had little patience too (may be it was 8pm, he was tired or supposed to go home or ...), I thought, as he handled my injured foot like an ordinary healthy foot. I was also ‘washed’ by him for not lifting up my foot so that the plaster could take its shape and my foot could have a nice support. I didn’t mean to do it opposite his way, but I wasn’t capable, so I was unwillingly ‘washed’. His assistant was nice though and he pushed me back to the room after the casting process.
Very soon, actually when I was on the way up by lift, my leg was burning like hell, I thought the plaster of Paris must be consolidating and releasing the heat (exothermic). The equation somewhat goes like: 2 (CaSO4•½ H2O) + 3 H2O → 2 (CaSO4.2H2O) + Heat. I think something is missing from the equation, it should be: 2 (CaSO4•½ H2O) + 3 H2O → 2 (CaSO4.2H2O) + Heat + Feeling of fire burning your leg + Dead skin + Headaches + Restless mind + Weakened mind+ Insomnia + Decreased immunity. I also found out later that a news goes like this: “In January 2007, a sixteen year-old girl suffered third-degree burns after encasing her hands in plaster as part of a school art project in Lincolnshire, England. She subsequently had her thumbs and most of her fingers amputated”. Huh? Lucky me again!
I reached my bed, it was almost 9pm, my mom and aunt was leaving. I reluctantly send them away (sitting at my bed only) and then I was left alone, preparing for the unexpected night...
A nurse with a wheelchair came over my bed, saying that I was naughty for crashing my bike and I would be given some pain as a penalty (Ha-ha). I was sweating cold, thinking about what to follow up later but I had no choice, so I just followed the ‘flow’ as I was already fallen into the ‘stream’. He pushed me until a surgery room; my mind was unclear already, starting to have delusion (I was not able to clearly remember all things that were happening). There I saw Mr. Theva, the Orthopedic and his two trainees’ doc (one being the cold- hearted dog, urm... doc). I got up and lied on the operating table (I was thinking: “God, this must be IT”). Mr. Theva said to me that I was about to have my cut wound stitched up. I said ok but a signal from my mind, went like: “Can I not have it? Maybe just let the wound heals by itself, because our body has the ability to heal itself, even the cuts, I think...”. Although I was sweating cold, by seeing him preparing the instruments, I knew it would be stupid to say what I was thinking at that time and it was not a time for voicing out personal opinion too, I had to let the doc did his duty. Being a cold- hearted trainee doc, the guy was going to have his dinner and asked for what Mr. Theva would like to have for his, he got a reply of ‘mee goreng’. He left satisfied with the order. The time I thought was 7.30pm and I would be getting the sharpest pain ever...
First, I was cleaned up of my wound and then given a shot (anesthetic) at my foot (third shot of the day), I didn’t feel anything although the doc informed me prior to it (adding a pain to an already in pain foot, so I guess it didn’t matter at all). I always had some fear for needle, especially those used for blood test; I could faint after a blood test (a 2/3 chance, sigh... I heard from the nurses more guys who fainted after blood test than girls). After few minutes of anesthetic, the doc started the stitching. I felt my foot was numb; I wasn’t sure what he did as I wasn’t that interested into a bloody job, and it had a sensation like plaster peeling off at my wound. I felt he was cutting off the dead skin surrounding the wound, later he said he was because the skin was turning black (may be short of blood). Then felt he washed it with water, then just repeated the ‘plaster peeling procedure’. There was no pain (as my foot was numb) until a point, I was like:’ Ouch! It hurts like hell.’ It was a sharp pain, occurring between my last and the fourth toe, guessed it was a stitch in a place that was not covered by anesthetic or probably the needle went through some nerves or something (anesthetic only for muscle to become numb, I think...). At that time, grabbing tight to my Holy Verse, praying that please let me felt the pain, only once... The procedure went on smoothly, the doc (Mr. Theva) was doing his job, the room was silent but my mind wasn’t. My mind was thinking about many things, just can’t remember clearly what they were. It was again became longest period of my life (a 30 min surgery, felt like an hour).
I also had an experience of doing a MRI (Magnetic Resonance Imaging) last year, it was quite scary though. I couldn’t move inside the tight chamber for 30 minutes (not suggested to move as it might create a blurry image), only capable of hearing my own heartbeat after the much noisy magnetic generating device had stopped (the device ran for 5 min or so then stopped for about 2 min, and the cycle repeated itself). Hearing my own heartbeat, and I was confined, so guessed what, I thought it had about 120 beats/sec. But the longer I stayed in that place, the calmer I became. I think it was because I already started to get used to it. That time, I was scanning my brain only; the price was about RM 1000+ (too expensive) and the result showed that I still had my brain inside my head, nothing much nothing less (RM 1000+ just dropped into deep sea). I wish someday people would invent a much more comfortable device for the MRI, at least for the sake of Claustrophobia (urm, not sure whether I got the phobia or not as I got used to it later).
After a few less than the sharpest pain’s pains, the minor surgery was over and I was relieved (too early it might seem, but nothing else could I feel). I was pushed back to my bed and on the way back, the TV3 newscasters started to report news, so the time was 8pm (still a 4 hour to the end of the Fateful Friday). Hearing the news (didn’t care what they were reporting), I was gratified I wouldn’t be on the news the very next day. Sitting on my bed, I felt I had been through quite a something, may be because of the adrenalin rush (sharpest pain’s aftermath), I felt like I could conquer the world! BUT, I just wanted to go home... BUT, the doc said I would be staying for the night, in case of anything left undetected from my ordeal. So I had no plane to catch, sitting at my bed, explaining the ‘Unexplained SEVEN’ to my mom and aunt, feeling the post- adrenalin’s dopamine. The effect was like morphine (though I never had it), it suppressed my pain (at least for that time) and I was at my calmest. Outside the window, I could see a neon lamp, and through it too I saw the rain, guessed it was a cold, long night ahead.
Then familiar faces appeared; the ‘cold’ doc (may be because of the weather) and the nurse, who pushed me here and there. Didn’t remember what the doc said (he deafened my ears already with his words earlier) and the nurse was pushing me to get my left foot casted in plaster. There I was, out for a ride in the wheelchair again and followed a lift down to the ground floor, I arrived at the plaster room. Inside the room were an old man and his assistant who pushed me in. The rain was heavy at that time and thunders struck like it was in a no man’s land. The room was filled with the smells of Gypsum (I didn’t like it much), and I was measured of my leg dimensions by the old man. My leg, at that time, already became ‘not my leg’ anymore as I hardly felt the sensation of it. The old man had little patience too (may be it was 8pm, he was tired or supposed to go home or ...), I thought, as he handled my injured foot like an ordinary healthy foot. I was also ‘washed’ by him for not lifting up my foot so that the plaster could take its shape and my foot could have a nice support. I didn’t mean to do it opposite his way, but I wasn’t capable, so I was unwillingly ‘washed’. His assistant was nice though and he pushed me back to the room after the casting process.
Very soon, actually when I was on the way up by lift, my leg was burning like hell, I thought the plaster of Paris must be consolidating and releasing the heat (exothermic). The equation somewhat goes like: 2 (CaSO4•½ H2O) + 3 H2O → 2 (CaSO4.2H2O) + Heat. I think something is missing from the equation, it should be: 2 (CaSO4•½ H2O) + 3 H2O → 2 (CaSO4.2H2O) + Heat + Feeling of fire burning your leg + Dead skin + Headaches + Restless mind + Weakened mind+ Insomnia + Decreased immunity. I also found out later that a news goes like this: “In January 2007, a sixteen year-old girl suffered third-degree burns after encasing her hands in plaster as part of a school art project in Lincolnshire, England. She subsequently had her thumbs and most of her fingers amputated”. Huh? Lucky me again!
I reached my bed, it was almost 9pm, my mom and aunt was leaving. I reluctantly send them away (sitting at my bed only) and then I was left alone, preparing for the unexpected night...
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