Misc. 56: Beyond the Curtain in a Hospital Ward!

So it was that I found myself in a twin shared  recovery ward after I survived the ICU. The protocol while sharing rooms is that when somebody new is wheeled in, you shut your eyes, turn to the wall and pretend that you are fast asleep. Then the other person will wake you up with a booming snore  emanating at regular intervals. If you are the sporting type, you might find it interesting to gather statistics on the snores per minute. Snores apart, there are coughing bouts and telephone talks that all the world  – and their brother –  can hear. Wonderful!

My first companion was a Senior Section Officer type in the Tamil Nadu government. No no, we did not get introduced with handshakes and all that, it is just my guess based on my experience with babus in the North Block (New Delhi) and Fort Saint George (Madras). I could not – for the life of me – understand why he was occupying a hospital bed at a time when it was in such a screaming demand. Other than the snore and cough, he seems to be in perfect health and was even seen walking around. (as you no doubt know, “ambulatory” is the word preferred by  my doctor friends)

What is more, my companion was very interested in what was going to be served for breakfast, lunch and dinner. I  overheard him murmuring about the ubiquitous idlies. He was asking the catering attendant if they don’t make purees in the hospital. Lol.  Then he was worried about the next day’s lunch. Any chance of getting some fish item? The attendant had to remind him that this was a hospital –  not a hotel!

The next guest to coexist in the ward with me seemed like a small time politician. He had his mobile at full volume and  listened to assembly proceedings and the like. Also, he was prone to providing running commentary on what was happening inside the ward. “There she is coming, the nursing sister. Now she is  giving me an injection saying mechanically that it is just a சின்ன ஊசி” (the English translation of this term is open for a rather puerile misinterpretation, so I will refrain). “There she is going away only to admit the next one coming up with the BP apparatus” and so on. To somebody used to listening to ball-by-ball commentary of cricket matches over the radio in the pre-TV yesteryears, this was an interesting variation. Who knows the politician may well be doubling as a professional commentator.

As far as I could guess, my third companion in the room – mind you, not altogether, they came one after another –  was a semi successful businessman. After waiting for a second pillow in order to raise his head for half a day, the attendant informed him that the bed itself can be raised by the press of a button. Wow!

After a few days I graduated from Covid recovery to the general ward (the alternative I suppose is going straight to the mortuary). Here, the PPE suits were less preponderant and the usual nursing attire began to be manifested. At first they put me in a room where there already was a patient. In keeping with my protocol, I did not look that way at all. That person was listening to all kinds of high-fangled stuff about ivy league management institutions and CEO talk. Must be upwardly mobile!

Since I maintained a studio silence, after sometime curiosity got the better of that person. The parting curtain was gently pushed aside till I came into view. Lo and behold I was a male, and “she” apparently was female! (ஐயையோ, போச்சு) I guess this information was quietly conveyed to the nursing station and they shifted me out (alas)

So my last abode was a single room where I enjoyed  splendid isolation and undivided attention from you know who.