E-Paper
Spice of life: Hospital friendships- in sickness and in health
Barring the sporadic naps duly recommended by the nurses, whenever it seemed I was about to withdraw into my shell, the trio would pull me into a lively conversation to keep me from dwelling on unforeseen eventualities.
A vortex of uneasiness had been whirling around me ever since the nurse wheeled me to the general ward from the intensive care unit after an abdominal surgery. Pessimistic thoughts threatened to overwhelm me until the patient lying on the next bed, an elderly woman, asked if I was doing alright in a chirpy tone.
The perfunctory but peppy talk did fleetingly lighten my troubled mind. My new friend, who was suffering from acute liver disease, introduced me to the two other patients – an adorable teenaged girl, who was suffering from leukaemia, and a robust armyman, who had to get his knees replaced after an accident – easing me into her makeshift family at the hospital.
Barring the sporadic naps duly recommended by the nurses, whenever it seemed I was about to withdraw into my shell, the trio would pull me into a lively conversation to keep me from dwelling on unforeseen eventualities. The realisation that my suffering and troubles were lesser than my companions’ also injected me with much needed stimulus and resilience to see through my recovery with a stiff upper lip.
When our families were allowed to visit, all sorts of delectable eatables would land up on our bedsides, meant to be apportioned among the four of us. The act of sharing pleased our hearts as much as they pleased our taste buds. With abundant time on our hands, we buttressed our newly formed friendship with anecdotes, good and bad, and some piquant secrets were unwrapped on the robust foundations of reciprocal trust and understanding, especially when sound sleep seemed elusive at night.
Over time, we all forged an unexpected bond of love, sympathy and empathy, becoming a close-knit unit, relishing each other’s company, being away from our respective homes. The elderly lady, who had first spoken to me, was the oldest in our little group, she was also the wittiest, liveliest and wisest member. She would encourage us to celebrate the epiphany of being alive, before death took us down in the time and place of its choosing. Running rosary beads through her fingers thrice a day, she believed that the will-power sourced from the Almighty was far more effective in curing a disease than pills and power. She would exhort us to pray for ourselves and humanity when sitting idle or when negative thoughts nagged our convalescing bodies.
We all adopted her profound spiritual exercise and eventually felt better, brighter, and lighter. Her random ways were zany and eccentric and broke the monotony.She was a master at initiating an animated conversation, and her unexpected jokes had us splitting our sides with laughter.
Last to be admitted, but first to get discharged, my speedy recovery surprised all, except me as I knew that the healthy presence of the ailing inmates had made a game-changing difference that had caressed my heart, spurred by mind and stirred my soul, eventually enabling me to savour my sojourn at the hospital with easy aplomb.
My farewell was both sad and happy, for a myriad reasons. Having discerned the mist welling in my eyes, my recuperating buddies and I assured each other that we would see each other again in future at some ‘better’ place in the pink of our health.
unsharma3116@gmail.com
The writer is a freelance contributor based in Una
