It was a restful night in the new room numbered 325. We're on the third floor and a slice of the town is visible and within earshot. And the day had begun at a half past 4 which is now becoming a habit, wonder why? Anyways, I've taken the quietness of the morning hours as an advantage to recite my prayers. Every hospital has its own unique signature and that's what I'm gonna gloss over in this edition of my thoughts:-
(a) The thin dividing line.
The reception counter, where every new patient checks in to have a dossier made on himself in the fond hope of getting over his medical difficulty, stands beside the morgue, where he could
end up if he were to lose that battle. A singular wall separates the 'ingress' and the 'egress' of
life! And paradoxically, smack opposite the reception counter stands the canteen which provides
food for the inmates of the hospital. Isn't it a bit strange that all aspects of life stand close by to
one another in close proximity, reiterating the essence of life?
(b) Apportioning resources to tide over the difficulty.
Lekha's left leg is in an over sized cast to ensure zero movement of the graft, put in place. She's
not supposed to use that leg for the next couple of months as per the doctor's diktat and she
abhors the use of bed pans! I'd worked out the plan to move in and out of the attached rest room
using the existing resources and had briefed her about it. She's the disadvantage of not being
able to pivot on her free leg and therefore, has to be eased on to a wheelchair from the bed
and then wheeled to the door of the rest room so that she can be transferred to a chair kept
there which is finally dragged on to the destination.
The nursing staff, in attendance, seem to appreciate the ingenuity because it takes their load off!
(c) When the staff let go off a collective despair!
I was returning from the canteen with milk in a styrofoam container and was passing through
the main mezzanine when the glass of milk slipped and dropped on to the floor. The manager,
the nursing staff present in the vicinity, the security duo and the medical shop counter girls let
go off a collective sigh at the loss while I apologised for having spoiled the spick and span
floor. The mopping up was done almost immediately. I found that they're monitoring me all
through when I'd retraced my steps with a second glass of milk! Probably, I was noticed
because the crowd was thin as it was the closing hours and for the people at work, it was a
distraction that they didn't mind.
Tailpiece.
There's a schoolmate of mine - junior to me and no, I haven't seen him during my times - who's a paediatrician out here. He'd dropped by to say hello and assured me of help that I might need. It gave me a nice feeling, I must admit!
(a) The thin dividing line.
The reception counter, where every new patient checks in to have a dossier made on himself in the fond hope of getting over his medical difficulty, stands beside the morgue, where he could
end up if he were to lose that battle. A singular wall separates the 'ingress' and the 'egress' of
life! And paradoxically, smack opposite the reception counter stands the canteen which provides
food for the inmates of the hospital. Isn't it a bit strange that all aspects of life stand close by to
one another in close proximity, reiterating the essence of life?
(b) Apportioning resources to tide over the difficulty.
Lekha's left leg is in an over sized cast to ensure zero movement of the graft, put in place. She's
not supposed to use that leg for the next couple of months as per the doctor's diktat and she
abhors the use of bed pans! I'd worked out the plan to move in and out of the attached rest room
using the existing resources and had briefed her about it. She's the disadvantage of not being
able to pivot on her free leg and therefore, has to be eased on to a wheelchair from the bed
and then wheeled to the door of the rest room so that she can be transferred to a chair kept
there which is finally dragged on to the destination.
The nursing staff, in attendance, seem to appreciate the ingenuity because it takes their load off!
(c) When the staff let go off a collective despair!
I was returning from the canteen with milk in a styrofoam container and was passing through
the main mezzanine when the glass of milk slipped and dropped on to the floor. The manager,
the nursing staff present in the vicinity, the security duo and the medical shop counter girls let
go off a collective sigh at the loss while I apologised for having spoiled the spick and span
floor. The mopping up was done almost immediately. I found that they're monitoring me all
through when I'd retraced my steps with a second glass of milk! Probably, I was noticed
because the crowd was thin as it was the closing hours and for the people at work, it was a
distraction that they didn't mind.
Tailpiece.
There's a schoolmate of mine - junior to me and no, I haven't seen him during my times - who's a paediatrician out here. He'd dropped by to say hello and assured me of help that I might need. It gave me a nice feeling, I must admit!
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