Story Of My Appendicitis Operation

Posted on March 16, 2011 in Society


By Rachit Sharma:

Have you ever felt the Earth shake beneath your feet? You may get it wrong; you need not to be in the middle of an Earthquake situation to really feel this. I was undergoing the same trauma when I reached the hospital. I was given a green apron to wear which made me even more nervous. My heart sank while I changed clothes. Meanwhile, the lower (also green in color) the nurse gave me was of a larger size. Somehow I managed to wound it around my waist.

My heart pumped faster and hands shivered. Meanwhile, a fellow elderly patient who had undergone somewhat a similar surgery few days ago was busy narrating me his set of experiences. His revelation were cut short by the nurse (I thanked her) who told me that the time has come. A fact: I wasn’t taken into the Operation Theatre on a wheelchair; rather I walked freely without any support.

Just as I stood up I saw my mom, tears rolling from her eyes. I tried my best to control myself but failed and dissolved into tears as well. We both sobbed. The nurse accompanying us mumbled under her breath and opened the OT door.

Thoughts swirled inside me and I cursed God that why only “I”. Neither do I smoke, nor do I drink – so then why was I undergoing a stomach surgery. Doctors had told me on earlier occasion that Appendicitis is a general problem without much reasoning to explain its occurrence. Yet this reasoning did not satisfy me. I was continuously blaming God and weeping.

The OT was something different from my imagination. There was a big hall divided into three unequal rooms. In one room several beds were laid, patients were made to stay there before and after undergoing surgeries. In the other room sophisticated instruments were present. My blood pressure and few other tests were taken in this room. The last room was a store containing all the necessary and urgent equipments and medicines which are used in an emergency. You might be thinking where the rooms for surgery are? A gallery joined four OT’s with these three rooms.

The intern doctor assigned for my case took over my charge from the nurse. A minute later two more doctors (one intern and the other a senior) came in to check me. All three tried their best to pacify me and repeated hundreds of times that my crying would unnecessarily raise my blood pressure, creating implications in surgery. I was given tablets to lower my blood pressure. I requested doctors to operate on me only after giving me an Anesthesia which would block all sensation, rendering me insensitive to any pain.

I was getting restless inside the OT as it had been more than an hour since I got in. I was surrounded by a group of interns, a computer operator and a few nurses, all doing there bit to pacify me. They asked me several questions about my education, my hobbies, etc. to calm me and told me about the easiness by which appendicitis surgery is performed. Their constant efforts did make me feel relaxed; I even had some tea with them.

A ward boy asked me to follow him; he took me inside the OT. So, finally after all the drama I was inside the OT. Its quiet similar in appearance to what I have seen in Bollywood movies. It is full of big and small instruments, lights, and a lot of chemicals. A lady doctor greeted me and asked me my name. The ward boy asked me to lie down on the bed. Another staff present tied my hands and inserted a drip in my left hand. I was quiet accustomed to all this as from past one month I took nearly 30 injections through drips.

I heard a soft number being played in someone’s mobile present in the OT; I guess it was a Jagjit Singh Ghazal. Once again, I requested the doctor to operate on me only after giving me an anesthesia which could render my whole body insensitive. She asked me not to worry and enquired about my education.

I don’t remember what happened thereafter. I woke up when someone shouted my name. I tried my best to locate and reply to him and used all my energy to open my mouth but failed even to turn my face in either direction.

“Mera operation ho gaya???”… these were the only words I was able to speak in a very faint voice.

“Haan ho gaya, successful tha”… I got a reply from someone.

It was getting quiet hard to open my eyes. One and half days later I was discharged from the hospital and a week later I went for my industrial training. Today, I just felt like sharing my experience. Have you had a similar experience? Do let me know in the comments section below.

: )