Living life single-handedly

“How did you manage to it?” That’s the question I have been dealing with for last six months. It can be quite tiring after a while. More so, when I have to explain all the medical details, it can be physically exhausting. This is about my fractured left hand. This happened on June 6. I was getting ready to go to office and then I fell down in my house. Immediately, I knew it was a fracture. But the seriousness of it all hit me hard when I went to the hospital and the orthopedician after looking at my X ray told me with a grim face “It’s serious and complicates fracture.” You have to go for a surgery and we will put metal wires in your wrist.” I stayed in the hospital for four days and I came out of the hospital with a plastered hand. Medical insurance took care of my expenses. Fractures are not new to me. I had my leg fractured when I was studying in Delhi. Today years after, I can’t really remember whether it’s my left leg or right leg. That time I was confined to bed for almost 2 months and in those days of pre-liberalisation, I had to take a flight from Delhi to Bhubaneswar. With that ticket money (India then had not heard of Captain Gopinathan who would eventually change the face of aviation), I can now easily buy a Kolkata Bangkok ticket. Staying at home was not that difficult. There were my sisters and parents who gave me the much-desired care and company. And there was a highly entertaining theatrical lady (who worked as a domestic help in the neighbourhood). She was the window to my world outside. She could give competition to anybody in high decibel vocal power. She knew everybody’s secrets and every now and then, according to her mood, she threatened to spill out the secrets. She was the showstopper and an entertainer par excellence who added much colour to my drab immobile days. But this time it was different. After a week, I joined back in office though it was not an easy ride. For every small things I had to depend on people. Opening a water bottle, lock, a casserole ---- looked so very remote, distant to me. I could not even open a medicine strap. Putting tooth-paste on my brush became a Herculean task. I had to ask for help. The last time when I had fractured my leg, I had my family to look after me and cater to my small needs. This time, luckily I could move around. But I was brushing against the world outside. On many occasions, I had to find my way through the crowds. Suddenly wearing jeans became an impossible task. A sling became my fashion accessory. Ninety per cent of wardrobe gave me wide grin as I could only look at them and not wear. Everything that I took for granted suddenly became larger than life image for me. And yes, I became an expert in typing with one hand. Every night, I used to hit the bed at exactly 9.30 pm and then started my process of tossing and turning. It was a struggle to have uninterrupted sleep. It seemed a luxury which I just couldn’t afford. In my wildest dream.After seven weeks, just a night before my birthday my plaster was removed. I hated looking at my hand. It didn’t seem to me it belonged to me. It was a stranger’s hand. The pain was unbearable that night (the pain killer injections did not work). My friend told me to switch off my mobile so that I won’t be disturbed by those midnight bday wishes. But then I was wide awake throughout the night writhing in pain. After 10 days, I started my physiotherapy sessions. Well, the pain of the fracture pales in front of the physiotherapy. The clock never seemed so slow as the one ticking away in the physio room seemed to me. Every now and then, I felt like getting up and running away to a land untouched by pain. But then when you see 75 year old Mrs Banerjee dressed elegantly in a crisp cotton sari doing her exercises after a fracture (to top it to her woes, she suffers from Parkinson disease) or a forever smiling Mrs Nair giving those tender “this shall pass” looks, it motivates you, gives courage to put a brave front, smile a bit and then do the exercise. Aah, those unforgettable moments of pain when you actually think that your heart is in your hand. But then the clock ticks away and you are done for the day. What a relief! The tasks sometimes were simple (or so the world thinks so) like tearing a piece of paper, picking up mobile or sunglasses with my left hand but at that time, it all seemed so difficult. Sometimes I failed, some-times I could just manage with great difficulty. And I screamed in joy the day I could open the tap in the bathroom. The fall taught me not to take life for granted (sorry folks, if it sounds like a line from those innumerable self-help books dotting the landscape of bookshops across the country). The world outside is quite harsh for physically challenged people in India. You might not realise it unless you go through the grind. Not many have the courtesy of opening a door or giving way to somebody who’s not able. There’s a pathetic attitude which needs to be changed. No wonder then many leading universities, corporate offices and places of worship (in a country which swears by religion) don’t have ramp facilities. There are some who laughed when I told them my fracture. For them, it all seemed as a great piece of joke. We love to push people who are not like us to corners. We don’t want to see them amongst us. So we don’t create facilities for them to be with us, enjoy a bit of laughter and sunshine. Today, things are little different. On most mornings I get up with great pain. I miss wearing the watch and the bangles on my left hand. I might have to live with that for the rest of life. The winter has added to my woes. But life is not all that bad. I am back to my jeans after months of de-nial. I can open the lock on my front door and the same story goes for a water bottle too. On the whole, it has been a great learning experience. I am back in my kitchen, trying out new recipes, I can now open the bottles of spices neatly arranged on my kitchen shelf. I take great pride in doing what the world dismisses as mundane. I am waiting for the full recovery. It might happen in another few months. May be the summer months will take away the stiffness. I have now learnt to revel in today. And I have decided to put an end to my bad habit of postponing holiday plans to next summer, next autumn and winter. Few weeks back, I went to Mumbai to celebrate my close friend’s birthday and together we went to Pune which we have been plan-ning for quite some time now. For a change, I didn’t postpone the holiday. All thanks to the fall. I look back and thank all those generous friends who took me restaurants (with my sling and plaster cast hand intact), for the screening of that wonderful film ‘Turtles can fly’ as part of the Ahmedabad International film festival and for a hair cut. And an artist friend who sat for hours and painted my plaster in brilliant hues of red, green and blue. My doctor couldn’t believe his eyes when he saw the colourful cast. I have clicked a picture for posterity. And I am hoping the pain will go away someday. For today, I have learnt to live with it. And most importantly, I have be-come more sensitive to other people’s pain.