⧭Uncertainties of Life...
Why do we remember certain things, but forget others? Emotions acts like a highlighter pen that emphasises certain aspects of experiences. Exactly a year ago destiny seemed to have scripted leaving me crippled thereby, reinforcing the point how life can be unpredictable with all its uncertainties. The incident which has left a deep scar had caused severe depression and sometimes nightmares too.
It was 04 October 2020 which felt like a prelude to autumn heralding with uneasy festive mood amidst the pandemic lockdown. The slight early morning chill followed
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| The beautiful neem tree |
After a quick wash and completing my regular physical exercise, I decided to thoroughly clean my wardrobe, shoe rack, free all the rooms of cobwebs and dirt. Pulled out all my winter garments, hung them in hangers on the clothes line outside for fresh air. So were the sneakers and also leather footwear put in the sun to condition after applying a generous dose of nourishing cream and polish.
I was almost through in accomplishing all work chalked out for the day. So headed for the basin to wash my hands but, then, my focus fell straight to the washroom’s ventilator which had become smudge of dust. As I was already in dirty clothes, I thought why not even get this cleaned as it would hardly take five minutes. Besides, I also had a mind to get my ham radio’s proposed outdoor yagi antenna cable through this ventilator and take it right up to my shack which I had been building during the lockdown period.
Managed a bamboo ladder and placed it at an angle by resting its upper end rung’s poles on the wall tiles just below the ventilator, while the lower end on the bathroom floor. Holding a dry brush and a damp cloth I proceeded climbing up the ladder. As soon I reached the fourth or fifth rung, the ladder initially started gently sliding downwards. I tried clinging support of a clothes line and also a galvanised iron rack towards my right however, it turned futile since all these gave way as the intensity of the ladder skidding tremendously increased until I last remember hearing a loud bang.
After several seconds when I regained my conscious, I felt myself with my back on the floor - few centimetres away from the porcelain commode. The heavy bamboo ladder rested just a feet above the floor which got jammed to the opposite end wall, multiple broken pieces of tiles and plastics from a huge storage water bucket were strewn on the floor.
As I tried to get up, I noticed thick blood all over the light colour tiled floor. Initially, I could not figure out the source of blood. Tried reaching my head with my right hand to find out for any injury but then, felt a horrible pain in my hand which was covered with blood. Immediately I took off my bandana and tightly wrapped my right hand with it.
By the time I was on my feet walking towards the bedroom, I noticed beads of sweat on my forehead which gradually spread all over the body with symptoms of blackouts. Immediately drank some water, threw a cushion on the floor and lied down holding tightly my injured hand wrapped with the bandana to regain health from the current situation
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| Injured hand wrapped with a bandana |
I just began to realise that it was not an ordinary injury which needed serious attention of a physician. And I knew that it would be difficult to show my injured hand again and again by unwrapping the bandana and so took a video of the same to make it handy for the practicing physicians.
After having wrapped up my hand securely with the bandana again, I covered it with a
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| The ripped off ring finger |
Due to the pandemic the hospital’s medical emergency was divided into two exclusive sections - COVID-19 cases and non-COVID-19 related emergency. The reception personnel guided us to the latter one. Here, except a couple of empty beds almost all the rest had patients with some kind of physical injuries, symptom of stroke or heart ailments, and asthma, etc. Nurses, paramedic staff and doctors on duty were engrossed attending one of the patients who appeared serious.
One of the nurses promptly approached and guided me to a vacant bed. After taking a briefing of the nature of my accident she then inspected my hand. She began by throwing the slab of ice which had by this time melted to the size of a pebble and then removed the plastic carry bag. Next, as she tried to unwrap the bandana, blood again gushed out with a super force that splashed on her white coat. Immediately she wrapped it with a pile of cotton, asked other paramedic staff to hold my hand in upwards position while she ran to the doctor on duty seeking his intervention.
All this while my good neighbour was by my side at the emergency. However, after witnessing severe blood gushing out and the pile of cotton put on on my injured hand getting rapidly soaked, he told me it was becoming increasingly unbearable to view this and so requested that he would be happy waiting at the reception lounge until the dressing was over. I told him it was fine since I thought it was equally becoming unbearable for me too viewing all these, although I tried my best to avoid looking directly at the progression.
The horrendous pain and trauma left me in a semi conscious state while my hand was firmly held upwards by a couple of paramedics. After a while I felt someone else touching my injured area of my hand that made me wail like a child. I heard a coarse voice telling me in Hindi - “sui lagane padega…” (Have to use needle to stitch…) “pehele local anaesthesia lagane padega uskibar silai…” (first need to administer local anaesthesia and then stitch). I responded in English saying, “doctor, whatever you do, but please try your best to reconstruct my finger so that life becomes back to normal…” However, at the back of my mind I was deeply wondering as to what had actually happened that required a stitch.
I was made to lie down in the bed while preparations were underway for injecting local anaesthesia to be followed by a stitch. As the doctor held my right hand and was just about to pierce the anaesthetic injection in my ring finger, I screamed out of pain literally rolling down my tears. Within few seconds the doctor tried again to administer the injection but excruciating pain just prevented him to proceed. I opened my blurry eyes and saw the doctor’s contorted face with anger saying, that if I screamed once again then he would stop going ahead with the treatment. I responded telling him, if this was the level of pain one had to bear, then please leave me alone.
After few minutes the doctor turned up again, politely took my hand assuring that it won’t be painful and smoothly injected the anaesthesia. Within seconds I felt my palm transformed into a cold hard rock while the entire arm turned almost numb. The stitching was completed, a huge bandage had been wrapped around the wound and I was asked to lie down on the bed for a while.
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| X-ray image of the injured hand |
The nurses and paramedics again started reopening the heavily blood-soaked bandage of my hand again. Layers of fresh cotton after cotton were being placed but, however, there seemed to be no relief of stopping the blood gushing out. Seeing the situation all the paramedics appeared nervous. I remember pleading them repeatedly to pull the doctor on duty from lunch as it was an utmost emergency case which was draining off all my energy.
Finally, when the physician arrived, a significant amount of my blood had been already lost. The doctor said that he would like to administer another injection just to stop the blood flow. Looking into the state of affairs, he was suggesting to get admitted as it would be convenient to monitor my overall health or any other complications arising out of the accidental fall. I was adamant saying that I would be happy returning home and if there were any issues I would seek medical assistance over the phone or rush back to the hospital if the situation arises.
Before releasing me, the doctor prescribed few medicines which I procured all from the hospital’s pharmacy. A couple of pills - a pain killer and an antibiotic had been given to take it immediately but, I refused as it would have some adverse effect since my stomach had been empty right from the morning. While explaining the medicines prescribed, the doctor cautioned me that the pain in my hand will gradually escalate as soon as the effect of anaesthesia disappears and hence underlined the pain killer medicines.
After having cleared all the hospital formalities and payment at the reception, my good neighbour who had been patiently waiting at the lounge, drove me back home. By the time I reached my residence it was late afternoon. The sun had just set displaying numerous hue of red towards the western horizon while dusk was all ready to unfold into the cool evening skies ahead.
Entering my apartment’s door step, I noticed blood stains all over the white mosaic floor. A light grey colour shorts which I was wearing in the morning turned stiff as blood on the fabric dried up akin to rigor mortis formation after death. Besides, cotton, bandaid, Savlon, Detol, mug of hot water that had turned ice cold, etc lay all scattered contributing to the mess at my room. As my hand was still under the heavy effect of the anaesthesia, I therefore, decided to capitalise the situation by arranging a quick bite for my dinner, organise my sleeping area and medicines.
I was now on my bed lying down and could feel a faint rhythmic pain resurfacing in my right hand since the effect of the anaesthesia was disappearing. My phone pinged and I noticed a message from my another would-be neighbour - a physician by profession employed with the government of India’s health department in capacity of a Joint Secretary. He was yet to take possession of his first floor apartment which was in near completion of the marathon renovation that commenced few years ago. While expressing anguish about the freak accident, he requested to get back for any help. After a thought, I texed a short message to my siblings and an old college buddy.
I dimmed the lights and tried my best to sleep. However, back in my mind I was deeply wondering what had actually happened to my hand; why was a stitch necessary?; was something missing for which stitching had to be done?; why was blood gushing out like a fountain? Gradually I felt drowsy, closed my eyes but, no sooner was awakened by the excruciating pain causing me to moan all throughout the night.
In the morning when I went to the washroom, seeing the aftermath of my hard fall, it
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| The ripped off finger part stuck on the wall |
triggered a lot of thoughts in my mind. The blood on the light colour floor tiles were all dried. Just below the right side of the ventilator's white tiled wall and maybe, around a one-and-half feet above the floor, I noticed something pinkish stuck on the wall. My inquisitiveness drew me closer to the object to investigate only to realise that it was the other missing part of my finger. On seeing the part of my finger I broke down completely but, tried my best to regain my composure as some hope came up to my mind. I had a clean small plastic transparent bag with grooved zipper. Without wasting time further, took out the ripped off finger part from the wall with a spoon and put it inside the plastic pouch, zipped and then placed it inside the deep freezer.
About 07:00 A.M. rang up my would-be doctor neighbour and told him about discovering the missing part of my finger and if it could be stitched back. After a pause, the doctor replied that had it been located within eight to ten hours of the incident then there was great possibility of attaching back to my finger but, since more than 22 hours have already passed it would be of no use as all cells in the finger part were already dead. However, he requested to share a video clip and X-ray of my injured hand so that he could consult with his plastic surgeon before hanging up.
Suddenly I felt the world torn apart and crumbling on top of me. All my interest in editing audio-video, photography, amateur radio, etc among others completely disappeared. I realised that I had now become disabled and have to live with it rest of my life. If only the hospital’s physician on duty at the emergency had enquired about the missing part of my finger then I could have just gone back home which was hardly a distance, retrieve the same and I guess it wouldn’t have felt so miserable. At one point I was wondering why was I still living. All such thoughts and loosing a part of me made me inconsolable.
A little later my siblings rang up and insisted that I should not waste any time further and to take the first flight to Bangalore. Had WhatsApped the X-ray image and video clip of my injured hand so that they could seek appointment with an orthopaedic surgeon of a leading orthopaedic super speciality hospital in the city. They knew the particular physician very well since just few months ago a young cousin sister-in-law had a successful knee ligament operation under his care.
I could not commit on my immediate travel plans since I had a priority appointment at my local hospital for re-dressing of the wound and other minor bruises in my leg and elbow. At the hospital requested to bandage the wound securely as I would be travelling long distance.
An afternoon economy premium flight ticket for 08 October 2020 was Emailed including arrangement of a cab to take me to Indira Gandhi International Airport (IGI). Like several other nervous passengers queued up at the IGI Terminal-3 entrance waiting for their turn to be examined by scanners, infrared temperature gun, checking of Aarogya Setu app in mobile and other related COVID-19 standard operating procedure (SOPs), I was bit apprehensive least I was detected with a fiver and get barred from travelling. The situation was like the guilt of being asked by law enforcing personal to check the levels of alcohol in intoxicated drivers who break rules related to drink and drive. However, Vistara airlines ground personnel present at the gate took note of my injured hand and made things absolutely smooth.
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| Vistara airlines inflight map |
While walking through the aerobridge to board the aircraft an air hostess standing at the entrance pointed towards a tray to pick up an in-ear headphone but, I refused as I had no interest. With much excitement she said, “Sir, this aircraft to fly you to Bangalore is the brand new wide bodied series Boeing Dreamliner with state-of-the-art personal entertainment embedded in each seat. Without these in-ear phones you wouldn’t be able to enjoy the same and neither your Bluetooth headphones would be compatible with the system…” I obliged the air hostess by picking up a pouch containing the stereo earphones and was then ushered to my seat.
Inside flight UK819 all the three row’s middle seats were by and large vacant except for those passengers who were travelling together or belonged to the same family. The middle seat occupants however, were clad in a PPE (personal protective equipment) gown apart from the face mask and face shield which was mandatory for all travellers. Most passengers were glued to their respective high resolution interactive LCD screen mounted directly in front of them watching movies, cartoons and music of various genres of their choice.
After relaxing in my seat the continuous rhythmic pain in my wound started
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| Cockpit View |
As soon the aircraft entered Karnataka air space, designer cumulus clouds embellished with rays of golden hues from the backdrop of the setting sun. Right below I could see a large field with red mud and few bulldozers surrounded by thick patch of greenary. Later I got to know that this was the proposed new terminal under construction which is now currently operational. My flight landed at Bangalore’s Kempegowda International Airport (KIA) around 17:10 hrs. After disembarking from the plane and walking through the aero bridge to collect my check-in luggage, I was glad to see the baggage carousel promptly delivering my rug sack.
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| Chase Cam View |
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| My best friends - Layla & Bailey... |
sniffing and wagging melted my heart as each of them were trying to seek my attention.Their unique barks which had intermittent high pitched sound and licking me all over my face was like telling me, “ Where were you my dear old friend all these years… what has happened to you…?”
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| Super Speciality Hospital, Bangalore |
At the Orthopaedic Robotic Centre of Bangalore’s Super Speciality Hospital, the orthopaedic surgeon examined my hand thoroughly and advised to come at regular intervals for dressing of my wound. Besides, he also suggested to start mild physiotherapy and movement of palm or else, he cautioned, that my wounded finger would become stiff and unusable. Next course of the way- forward would be advised only after the wound had healed and the stitch removed, the doctor added.
Medicines were being given to me timely at my bedside while an ointment for spasticity used to be applied on sides of the affected finger twice a day by the
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| Exotic drinks... |
lady of this quaint apartment. The youngest in the family went a step forward by bringing his six stringed musical instrument every evening and prompted me to try strumming with my wounded handed. He had also got a gym hand gripper, lowered the tension to zero and helped me to try it out. And last but, not the least, a shot of some exotic drinks before dinner which seemed to be customary though, appeared to have chased off all my worries. Soon I began to realise that I was becoming a lefty. During a family carom game I could not use my right hand fingers to push the striker inspite of my best efforts.
Gradually, some of my friends including few senior radio amateurs from Delhi- NCR who got a whiff of my freak accident started calling me to enquire about my wellbeing. Messages like, “get well soon”, “you are a brave man, have faith on the Almighty”, “You will be fine soon”, etc started pouring in my WhatsApp. I was wondering such similar messages which I used to once convey to others have now ironically started coming to me. Yes, I was the victim loosing a part of me, I had become disabled, I was depressed…
After a couple of weeks when my finger’s stitches were being removed at the hospital, I once again wailed like a child. Looking at my deformed finger I broke down mentally since it had robbed all my confidence - yes, I would prefer to avoid shaking hands with others or at best keep it always hidden from public view. I was now convinced that I now fell into the physically challenged group. However, the orthopaedic surgeon after examining my hand expressed satisfaction as the wound had healed up. For the cosmetic makeup of my injured finger, the physician recommended Ottobock, a company that deals in prosthetic arms and legs.
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| Ottobock, Bangalore centre |
Finally, when my turn came, a young Ottobock specialist took a look at my finger and then counselled that an artificial finger cap would be needed to be worn over my injured finger. However, she said that my finger required further healing and only after that an appropriate size can be placed for order which would approximately take around two to three months. The cost of the entire process quoted for the silicone type cosmetic finger was pretty expensive. However, the specialist advised to visit her again after three weeks as then she would be able to measure the size and place it for order.
By the time we returned home my mind changed completely. Somehow, the artificial finger did not appealed to me. Instead, I started vigorous physiotherapy. With sheer will power gently tried workouts with the hand gripper, started holding a glass of water, cup, spoon, etc. The guitar therapy or physical movement of my injured finger initiated by the lineage’s rockstar required a lot of my mind’s concentration to coordinate. It was extremely painful though but, I never gave up. Next, started my long early morning walk and some days carried my camera gear too. I was beginning to feel much better physically as well as mentally but, my right hand grip was still extremely weak, sensitive and painful.
Currently, though I have become somewhat slow, but my finger has improved significantly. I have gained back a lot of strength in my right hand allowing me to perform certain works which I was able to do prior to the accident. I still continue my daily physical exercise religiously and trust me, the feeling of being handicapped has almost disappeared from my mind. Further, the regeneration of cells in my injured finger have transformed - perhaps, now it doesn’t look all that ugly when compared what it used to look like few months ago.
When I look back in to the entire episode certain thoughts comes up to my mind. There is a crying need for our physicians after completing their MBBS to undergo an effective specialised soft skills course on patient handling. Just like the hippocratic oath which is still held sacred by physicians, patient handling too should be made mandatory since it has been observed that lack of this trait among most doctors often results in blunders on their part and disillusionment among the health seekers. Had the doctor on duty at the emergency enquired about the missing part of my finger when I requested him to reconstruct my finger, then I would have known what to do. Conversely, if I had a smart close aid or a family member by my side at that point of time, then I guess he/she would have surely probed the doctor and my other part of the finger could have been fetched right away and operated back to my finger.
Would like to acknowledge all my friends, radio amateurs, well-wishers and relations for keeping me in good spirits during my trying times. And finally, to mention "thank you" to my siblings, nephews and their family would be too little. I am not sure if I can ever repay them in this life for all they had done for me.
