RMO had told that will be operated only if there is chance. Jishu Mama and Subhankar stayed at hospital. I took grandma along with me. It was impossible to look at her. I never ever in my life saw her alone staying anywhere. At about 12:30 am. Grandma was forced to sleep, because none of us knew whats the next morning was about to bring. I didnt wanted to sleep. Because once sleep, it became tough to accept the reality the next moment I become awake. But I didnt wanted to be awake either, because I wanted the time to move on. 2:30am. Subhankar told, doctor ready for operation. A ray of hope blew my mind when they said operation was successful. By 6:30 am, I moved to hospital. It was scary staying there alone. And my grandpa's identity by then was changed to "BED NUMBER 4011, ICU 1".
I was relieved seeing baba maa in the evening. Still then Bed Number 4011, ICU 1 "er gyan fereni" (was unconscious). And thus started out journey of hearing... "conditon eki achhe." ( condition is same).
I joined office back. 2 days later in the office, baba called suddenly, said... Grandpa under ventilation. I dint knew what to do. I rushed out. Left my job. I knew the grave meaning of ventilation. But let my maa and grandma dont no, let them not face the truth. Let me not cry in front of them. Let me find out some positiveness. And thus my hunt for positiveness started.
One Thursday, I wished I would not have been there to see him. Tubes and plasters, eyes closed. Breathing. I called him, I called him many a times, he didnt responded. Never happened in this 23 years of mine. I knew he will get well, I knew we five will be together again. I promised, I will not see him till he gets fine. And thus I divided our duties. Baba will visit, and I will carry medicines. Happy :))
Days started passing with everyday of nothing new. Same old story, same old comments. Another operation. Every patient carrying stretcher used to make a heart beat skip. Every starting of announcement was spine chilling. Every call from hospital was scary. My daily routine was to go to hospital early morning, stay there till the visiting hours and then coming back. And in between asking for "Bed 4011, ICU 1".
*thanks shubhajit to be there with me in those stupid acts of mine. God bless u.
I was relieved seeing baba maa in the evening. Still then Bed Number 4011, ICU 1 "er gyan fereni" (was unconscious). And thus started out journey of hearing... "conditon eki achhe." ( condition is same).
I joined office back. 2 days later in the office, baba called suddenly, said... Grandpa under ventilation. I dint knew what to do. I rushed out. Left my job. I knew the grave meaning of ventilation. But let my maa and grandma dont no, let them not face the truth. Let me not cry in front of them. Let me find out some positiveness. And thus my hunt for positiveness started.
One Thursday, I wished I would not have been there to see him. Tubes and plasters, eyes closed. Breathing. I called him, I called him many a times, he didnt responded. Never happened in this 23 years of mine. I knew he will get well, I knew we five will be together again. I promised, I will not see him till he gets fine. And thus I divided our duties. Baba will visit, and I will carry medicines. Happy :))
Days started passing with everyday of nothing new. Same old story, same old comments. Another operation. Every patient carrying stretcher used to make a heart beat skip. Every starting of announcement was spine chilling. Every call from hospital was scary. My daily routine was to go to hospital early morning, stay there till the visiting hours and then coming back. And in between asking for "Bed 4011, ICU 1".
*thanks shubhajit to be there with me in those stupid acts of mine. God bless u.
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