I Too Had a Love Story (18 page)

I saw her hand, coming out from under the bed sheet at my side. I touched her little finger very gently. In response, I felt her beautiful fingers crawling on my palm and, with that, I suddenly held her hand and started crying, seeing my dearest bearing that pain all alone.

I felt a hand on my shoulder again. Regaining my senses, I looked back to see Jiju standing behind me looking at her. Dad approached her from the other side and was observing
her with love and warmth in his eyes. Indeed, it’s hard for a father to see his daughter breathing with the help of a support system. And there I was, still holding her hand. The three of us, standing beside our dear Khushi, were praying hard, with all our heart and soul.

‘We have to take her for the scan,’ a feminine voice broke the silence in that room. She was the nurse who was in charge and had been to get the CT scan machine ready.

She called the ward boy at the entrance for help and wheeled the stretcher to the scanner. It was a giant, white-coloured, wheel-like structure which I had seen earlier only in some movies. I was feeling apprehensive.

‘Help me to shift her to the scanner,’ the nurse said in a loud voice while assembling the ventilator tube.

We all helped in shifting her from the stretcher. I was standing on her left along with the nurse. Dad and Jiju were at the other side. The ward boy too came and stood beside us in order to lift her. We all were at our positions, but I couldn’t understand how we would shift her with all the equipment and various tubes attached to her badly injured body.

‘Now,’ the nurse said, commanding all of us to lift her.

All hands were at work that moment. Though Dad, Jiju and I took utmost care in transferring her to the scanner, the nurse did not seem careful enough to me. She lifted her from the stretcher without giving any support to her neck and, moreover, the way she gripped her hand was definitely not right.

‘The saline tube has come out,’ the ward boy said.

I jumped and caught hold of that tube to give it to the nurse as soon as possible so that she could fix it. But the nurse appeared too lazy to do that.

‘Please fix that thing first,’ I said to her.

‘Relax, sir. Everyday we handle many patients. Don’t worry,’ she said, arrogantly.

‘Yes, and that’s why you have become so callous,’ I said silently.

Khushi had started showing some movement in her hands, which was gradually increasing, maybe because of the pain. In a little while, she was literally shaking her hands to get rid of the needles piercing her hand. Seeing her, I panicked and asked the nurse to do something.

‘She is in a sub-conscious state where everybody reacts this way. Nothing new,’ she answered, completely ignoring my panic.

Maybe not for her, but it was definitely new for me. I was not able to stand seeing my better-half in that state. I was getting frustrated by the nurse’s behavior but I knew we were not in a position to do anything which might add to our miseries. I stood beside Khushi, holding her hands in mine in order to prevent her from taking off the saline and ventilator tubes.

‘Apart from you, everybody can leave this room,’ the nurse said pointing at me.

‘Why?’ I asked her in a gentle tone.

‘We are going to begin the scan and usually we allow attendants to stay only if we need them. I need you to hold her hands throughout the scan or she might take off her saline needle,’ she explained.

Dad, Jiju and the ward boy left the room. The nurse closed the door from inside and gave me a sleeveless jacket, to protect me from the rays coming out of that giant white wheel, I think. She then went inside the control room to operate the machine. Back in this room, I was standing, holding my beloved’s hands, looking at her face. My heart bargaining with God, ‘Anything, but not her.’

Gradually I felt the strength with which she was trying to shake her hands. It was getting difficult for me to hold her firmly without hurting her. No one was around us. I steeled myself to hold her tight.

And I started talking to her.

’Hey, dear. I am so sorry if I am hurting you, but this is for your good. I am doing this because I want you to get well soon. I am doing this because you are the best thing that ever happened to me and I don’t want to see that going away from me because I simply cannot think of living without you. Come back to me, please. Open your eyes and see, your Shona is here for you.’

Holding her hands in mine, I bent down to whisper in her ears, ‘Fight. Fight for me. For all of us. And I promise you, we will provide you the best hospital, the best doctors, the best medicine and the best care.’

For rest of the few minutes, I kept seeing her face.

Meanwhile, the nurse came in from the control room confirming that the scan was done. I realized that the sound coming from the machine wasn’t there any more. She opened the door and I saw Dad and Jiju standing outside, looking at me.

With the help of the ward boy, we then shifted her back to the stretcher. This time, I took care to shift the saline pouch, the urine bag and the ventilator along with her. I didn’t want anybody to make any mistake this time. After shifting her back to the stretcher, the ward boy wheeled her out of the scan room. We too were walking along with them. Back at the entrance, I saw the reception lady again, looking at me. ‘I am sorry,’ I said and passed by her. On the way back to the ICU the nurse took a different route—an elevator that led to the ICU. Our entrance was prohibited. We stood there, seeing them taking her away.

I joined my palms, praying to God to take care of her and make her get well soon. Then we returned to the ICU attendant-hall, back on the same chairs, amid the same crowd, hearing similar announcements. A little later, Jiju left for home after Dad insisted that he go and take some rest. Dad and I spent the rest of the time in the hospital sitting on our chair, confined to the attendant-hall.

Whatever I had seen in the past few hours was flashing through my brain. Her face, her hands and my one-sided conversation with her.

‘Did she recognize my voice? Did she hear me talking to her? Did she want to say something to me?’ These were the questions I was asking myself again and again. For hours, I struggled with these questions and bad thoughts at one end, and prayers and hopes at the other.

It was 3 p.m. when Pushkar arrived at the hospital with a lunch-box. I met him while I was coming out of the restroom and updated him about today’s CT scan.

‘So did the doctors talk about the reports too?’ he asked.

‘Not yet. They might, during the evening counseling hours,’ I said.

‘Hmm … I thought so. By the way, I have got lunch for you and Dad and me,’ he said.

‘I think it would be better to send Dad back home, so that he can have his lunch comfortably there and rest a little. He seems to be tired.’

‘That’s fine. I’ll be here with you.’

We then moved towards the attendant-hall.

Despite Dad’s reluctance, we succeeded in sending him back home.

I had my lunch after that. For the next few hours, Pushkar and I were talking to each other, about our office, family and friends. And our Khushi.

It was 5.30 in the evening when we saw Deepu coming out of the elevator. The visiting hours had started and I knew he was here to see his sister. He sat beside us, talking about the little problem with his car and that it needed servicing. Dad had already told him about the morning’s CT scan.

When our turn was announced, we asked him to go ahead to the ICU. Back in the hall, Pushkar and I were worried about the
CT-scan report. Our eyes were glued to the ICU door, waiting for Deepu to come out with some update from the doctors. And nearly fifteen minutes later, we saw him coming out. We got up from our seats and went to him.

‘The doctors say that the blood clots are still persisting in didi’s brain. But the good thing is that they have not worsened,’ he said before we could ask him.

‘Anything else?’ I wanted to know.

‘Nothing as such. She is in a subconscious state and moving her hands and legs.’

We stood near that ICU door for a while before we walked back to our seats, where we sat for another hour or so. Meanwhile, Dad called up Deepu on his cell. He wanted me to come back home. Though I was not willing to leave the hospital, the frequent announcements finally made me leave. According to the announcements, only the attendants having ICU passes were allowed to stay back on this floor and the checking was about to begin. We just had two passes with us and one of us had to leave. I did not feel like asking either Pushkar or Deepu to do so and so I agreed to go.

‘I’ll drop you home,’ Deepu said.

‘OK,’ I said looking at him and Pushkar.

‘Have some tea at home and relax a bit. You’ve been here since morning,’ Pushkar said, patting my shoulder.

‘I will. See you later.’

‘See you.’

While going down in the elevator, I was asking myself—and God, if He could answer me—when she was going to open her eyes and talk to me. When would I hear the doctors say that she is out of danger? When will things be all right for all of us again? I begged God to talk to me and answer my questions.

Once at the ground floor, we came out of the hospital. It was cold outside. Deepu was saying something to me which I
ignored, stuck in my one-sided conversation with God. Looking down at the road, lost in my thoughts, I walked out of the hospital exit following Deepu’s footsteps.

‘That’s our car, over there,’ Deepu pointed.

Without responding, I followed him and got in the car. My silence was obtrusive. But then something happened in that car which made me feel good and broke my silence. The moment he started the engine, the music system turned on and the paused song continued:

‘I am gonna wake up … It’s not my time to go … I guess I will die another day …’

I heard the words very clearly, coming out of the music system in his car that night. Making myself comfortable on the seat now, I was wondering if this was just another song or if it was God himself trying to make my conversation two-sided, or if this was Khushi somehow conveying what she wanted to tell me when I was holding her hands in mine. I don’t know what it was but, those lyrics were more than just words. Or maybe it is human tendency to choose something which gives the maximum comfort.

‘Amen,’ I wished in my heart and, feeling a little better, started talking to Deepu.

We reached home and after a while Deepu was about to leave when Dad asked him to have dinner first, so that he didn’t have to come back again. In the living room I saw Jiju and Daan playing with each other. Seeing me, Neeru prepared some tea for both Jiju and me. For the next half an hour, the entire family was in the living-room. That night, we had our dinner at around nine, after which Deepu left for the hospital. I wanted to go back to the hospital with him, but I knew Susant was going to accompany him there for the night. Moreover, someone at home mentioned that Susant would be traveling to Chandigarh tomorrow and would return after two or three days. I thought
I’d replace him on those successive nights. Pushkar was supposed to leave for his office that night for some important calls.

I spent that night in her room again, on her bed. Before closing my eyes I recollected moments from our happy days and prayed to God to heal her. And so another day in my life passed in prayers, hope and anxiety.

The next day was pretty much like the previous one. Dad, Jiju and I were at the hospital by 10.30 a.m. Deepu told us about the doctors’ plan to operate on her thighs and jaw that very day. According to them, she was in a better condition now and thus they were going ahead with the surgery. We were asked to replace a jaw-plate at the hospital bank, as the doctors were going to use one while operating on her jaw. Moreover, we had to arrange four blood donors for replacement as approximately four units of blood was going to be used for the operation.

I didn’t know about this blood-replacement principle earlier. Dad told me that whenever a blood unit is used for a patient, the same amount has to be replaced by the attendants of the patient, usually within twenty-four hours. It was not about getting some certified blood from a blood bank—what we needed was people who would donate their blood in this hospital’s blood donation center.

‘So we are now supposed to search four donors whose blood groups are A+ and are willing to give us blood in the next twenty-four hours?’ I asked Dad. I knew that, in her entire family, only her Dad was A+ and everyone else was O+, even me.

‘No, for replacement, donors can be of any blood group. The only condition is that an equivalent number of units needs to be donated. And we already have arranged the donors,’ Deepu clarified.

‘Who are they?’ I asked

‘Two of Susant’s close friends, the admin from CSC and me.’

‘Even I can be a donor. We can ask one of Susant’s friends to stay back,’ I said.

‘Everybody is here by now and we should judiciously use persons from our family to donate blood. There can be worst-case scenarios any moment, where we might not find others to donate blood on time. Remember, if you donate blood now, you can’t for the next three months.’ He had a point. I just wished that the worst-case scenarios would not arrive.

‘I will go with Susant’s friends to the blood bank and after that I will leave for home. Need to have some food before donating blood,’ he said and went off.

My cellphone rang, then. I looked at my watch while taking the cell from my pocket. It was 11 and I knew this was mom’s call. She would ring me twice everyday to get an update about our discussions with the doctors.

‘
Sat Sri Akal
, Mumma,’ I said, moving out of the crowded hall.

‘
Sat Sri Akal, beta
. How are you?’

‘I am fine. How is your backache? Any relief?’

‘It’s the same as before. It becomes troublesome at times, but I am fine. Any update on Khushi’s condition?’

I told her about the doctor’s decision to operate on Khushi today and the blood replenishment thing. She expressed concern about the operation and I tried to comfort her, saying it was because Khushi was better today that the doctors could take this decision. As usual, she also asked me about Khushi’s mother and rest of the family. Before hanging up, she consoled me, as always, saying that God is great and would take care of her.