The surgery scheduled for the morning was postponed to the afternoon. No matter how much you may try to take your mind off it you always fail. It’s that constant churning in the stomach, the butterflies. You simply can’t help it. “You will not eat anything after 8 till the operation” announced the nurse on her way back (after checking my Blood Pressure and temperature). And the endless wait began. After 5 hours of fasting, some attendant of the doctor barged into the room. “This is it” I thought. “Wear this” he said authoritatively & placed a piece of folded cloth on my bed. I was shocked when I unfolded it. “What?  Gown?”  A silent nod from mamma ensured that I had to wear it. The person was ready with a razor and some liquid in a bottle by the time I wore that ‘Gown’. What? Is he going to do it? Right here...

“No. I’m here to shave your knee only” he said providing relief to my hyperactive senses. The two knees never looked more different than now (In fact they were different in terms of ability to twist & gyrate before). Now the wait had become tougher with me wearing the gown & stretching it to cover my legs (interpret as the attempts to cover my modesty). After another hour or so, 5 or 6 people came in with a stretcher. “Don’t worry mamma. Everything will be fine” I said to my mother clutching her hands & in a voice sounding as brave as possible (I can easily recall that my heart had probably jumped to the throat and was pounding like a piston of an engine) the roller coaster ride on the stretcher (they did let me fall freely on slopes) had me nauseating even before I reached the Operation Theatre.

My first person look at the OT (Operation Theatre) flooded my mind with a number of thoughts. First there was a definite dip in temperature (that makes sure that the only fluid comes out of the body is blood). Secondly, I was in praise for Bollywood (& some television shows) for such a vivid depiction of OT. I was familiar with every thing from ‘beep’ of the heartbeat machine to the circular lights. The moment I was transferred to the bed in the OT, some attendant wrapped the Blood Pressure measuring belt on my left arm and attached a clip (was it for heartbeats? I don’t know) to the ring finger of my right hand (in a way they made sure that I don’t run away after they’ve done all the preparations). A needle that has a tap like structure (I have no idea what it’s called) was also pierced in my right hand. “Are you afraid?” someone asked from behind. I tried to twist my head round to look for the speaker. The man discovering my dilemma came up to me. Middle aged, moustache, average built & a big smile on the face. The man needed no introduction. The only person who is authorized to put on a smiling face in the OT is the Anesthetist. Then a flurry of questions came by my way. “How did you get this injury?” “Whom were you playing with?” “Are you in the college team?” “What problems do you have due to the injury?” I responded as briefly as I could with him administering the anesthesia in my left leg any moment on my mind. To my disbelief, he left the room after the questionnaire without doing anything. May be the surgeon isn’t here yet, I thought. My MRI scans were now being put up on the lighted boards on the wall in front of me (as if being put on exhibition). Couple of minutes more & Dr. Anesthetist was back again. “How much should I give it to you?” he asked trying to tease me a bit. “The amount that will cause no pain Doctor” I replied. The next thing that was on my mind was what if he belonged to the Gurjar community & decides to give me half the dose in protest? “The protest is over you idiot” my inner self said. The Doctor was successful in distracting me as he injected a white fluid in the needle on my right hand without getting it noticed by me. I managed a quick look but suddenly the world around me started fading. “Doctor I’m going unconscious” I yelled. “Cool down boy. You are going into a new world” were the last words I heard before losing senses.  The next thing I remember is being transferred to a stretcher with a painful burning sensation in my left knee (that I didn’t know then that it will persist for days to come). For the next 4 days I slept all day, waking up only to take in food & medicines and experienced intense pain on any type of movement of the left leg. I was discharged the fifth day and the horrible ride back home (in which every pebble on the road aided in exponentially increasing my pain) made me regret any good feelings for the bumps. I gave sigh of relief on coming back home but who knew that the pain isn’t over yet. The Post Operative Trauma, physiotherapy, itching stitches & other allied problems will make me remember it all for the rest of my life.