I was
sitting on the edge of the bed at my ward. To kill time, I was nibbling at a yummy
plum cake. My right eye was bandaged with a long strip of cotton. There were
two others in the room. Two mothers. One Mine and the other my mother’s.
There was an air of suspense in the midst. We all were expecting for the nurse. I should say all though there were only three of us, for the adjective includes my kith and kin back home. We sat waiting for the nurse to come and open my eye. I requested my mother to stand in front of me so that she’ll be the first person that I get to see once the bandage is stripped.
“Hey!
What’s going on here?” you should’ve asked this question to yourself by this
time. Cool, let me hit the rewind button.
I lost
my eyesight at ten due to Stevens-Johnson syndrome. It was really a life-quake.
I turned totally blind and steered to run on a different track. Long story
short, the attempts to restore my sight were just futile. The last hospital
where I was consulting in terms of preventing infections and so on was
Madurai’s Arvind Eye Hospital.
It was
during the summer 2008 that the ophthalmologists at Arvind’s expressed it could
be possible to give sight to my right eye if a minor operation is performed. Hearing
such news, my parents readied for any sacrifice if it were only to bring tears
to my eyes. Yes, the problem with my eyes is that they were dry, and so I can’t
shed tears even if you lambaste me black and blue.
Talking
about tears, I recall an incident which is etched in my memory with Fevi-Stick.
My brother and I strolled down to a shop to buy kites. It was during my
convalescent stay home after the tremors of the syndrome. Seeing that I was
blind, the shopkeeper asked me recount how I came to lose my sight. After
listening to all I said, he chuckled, “why don’t you pour a jug of water to
your eyes to store the tears?”
Okay,
enough sideshows. Fortunately, the operation wasn’t that expensive. Even so, my
parents might’ve somehow accumulated money for my sake. Hence, operation was
dated and everything was set up for that dream day.
The
expectations brimmed beyond description. For a heartbroken mother who has seen
her naughtiest child impaired to a dependent, the surgery meant more to her
than me. She prayed to god from the hearts of her heart to grant me sight.
Besides, I too had my share of wishes. As I’d always thought having eyes give
you an extra edge, if the sight is restored, I thought I’d be able to secure
more marks than my friends in the public exam for class X.
Meanwhile,
I was fascinated to undergo all the medical drills on the eve of operation. My
body weight was checked, blood test was taken, the quantity of chloroform to be
administered was measured, etc. And finally, the day came.
It was
Tuesday after noon, and I was lying in a stretcher, attired in a long blue
tunic. The stretcher was gently rolled into the operation theatre, leaving
behind my mom and grandma.
End of the flashback
Tap,
tap, tap, knocks sounded on the door. My mom hurried to the door and opened it
see a nurse standing. Instead of coming in, she beckoned my mom out.
inspiring !!!
ReplyDeletethank you sir.
DeleteCann't imagine the disappointment that you and your parents had got Krishna.
ReplyDeleteThis comment has been removed by the author.
ReplyDeleteHeart Touching Brother. A valuable drop of tear came out from my eyes while reading this real time story of your life. I know you will also cry along with tears one day. On that day i will wash out your cheek to make your face glory.
ReplyDeleteSuresh, when I get sight, I'll surely cry.
ReplyDelete