[roy_libran]

3 years of Ghaziabad - Gurgaon - Ghaziabad (120 km) commute each day, mostly in Innovas, gave me permanent lower back ache and stiff shoulders. Since then (5+ years now), I have consciously stayed away from availing free Office Transportation, and spend money on driving my own vehicle for my regular commute to and from office (50 km nowadays).
That, and the lack of flexibility for timings, jostling for space, putting up with unpleasant people at times, fighting for a better seat, putting up with colleagues who would delay cabs and what-not!

[saket77]

Ah! Honda Shine...nice commuter bike. I have been using the Stunner (CBF 125) for about 2.5 years now for commuting to office (same engine).
Surely we save a lot of time and even money commuting by bikes which can return in excess of 60KMPL! I love it esp when the drinks for my Zen costs Rs. 71 per litre which it happily imbibes for 15-16 KMs!

[mikon]

I'll still repeat - buy a Used Harley 883 or Aquila Pro (only if you get necessary permissions)

[selfdrive]

Originally Posted by mikon

I'll still repeat - buy a Used Harley 883 or Aquila Pro (only if you get necessary permissions)

Et tu, Brute? And you expect after all the water under the bridge that I will ever get any permissions?!

Continuing the story, back to terra firma

The day dawned. February 25th. This is going to be a red letter day in my life, I told myself again as I woke up.

Man proposes, god disposes. Simple, that is how it should work.

But man should be specific about what is being proposed. It still is a red letter day in my life but for entirely different reasons. 20 metres from my office gate, my bike skid over some interlocking tiles which were growing moss from the water overflowing from those tankers that supply water to our software park located in a desert bordering town.

Let me rephrase that.

I work in a software park outside town. People living there argue that it has a postal code, so it is within town. But don’t listen to them, it is an annexe of an annexe of a suburb, whatever that means. Nevertheless, let me continue with my original rant. This SEZ doesn’t have piped water supply, so I guess it is more Economical than Specialized. It definitely is in a different zone.

Water tankers supply water to this software park. As with all tankers, they spill water every time they stop/ start. Just before the entry gate, the tankers spill water. There are interlocking tiles which were slippery and mossy due to this regular water supply.

Normally I would see the water and swerve. I did neither. It was a slow turn that I took at a speed of about 15 clicks. It could have been 10 really. The bike skid and I was about to fall. But I was so slow that I was actually slower than slow motion. So I stuck out my leg to arrest the fall. The leg stayed straight, the knee bore the brunt. I sat down on the ground resting my elbows on my knees knowing what just happened.

I don’t know what took a bigger fall. Me or my ego. The fall would be replayed umpteen times in the coming days. I would replay it for myself. Everyone else, who knew what I was up to, replayed it for the benefit (negative) of my ego. Especially as there were no visible marks. The security guys who picked me up thought I was kidding when I wanted to go to the hospital.

Sir, you didn’t even fall. You landed the bike slowly.

I wasn’t trying to land it. It isn’t an airplane you mad hatter. I fell off it!

Sir, you don’t have scratches. Even your clothes don’t have dust, except perhaps the part you are sitting on.

Dimwits. I hoped to myself these were not the people trained to give CPR in case of emergencies. They would not know how to tell one when it arrived. Unless it came coated in a layer of dust.

[saket77]

Selfdrive, this is ultra low dosage after the patient wait. We want bigger dosages.

[selfdrive]

Sir, do you want water?

No, I want an auto. I am going to the hospital. Here are the bike keys, give them to my office reception. They will pick up the bike.

No problem sir, you take a holiday today. It is probably just sore, it will heal by the time you reach home. I mean the knee.

Of course he did mean the knee. Or did he?

These morons are going to be surprised when they me swathed in bandages next time, I muttered to myself. And wait a minute, are these people granting me the day off? Looks like security guys have too many responsibilities these days!

I hobbled into the auto with help from a couple of intrigued fellow IT majdoors. Some even volunteered to accompany me to the hospital. But I didn’t want an early morning fight between literate majdoors trying to outdo each other in bunking work. So I kindly refused and even pushed a stubborn one out of the auto.

Till then the typical Punekar public had assembled around and were asking each other how I fell. They clucked ‘bechara/ waayit jhaala’ (poor fellow, bad happened?!) individually and collectively while trying to peep over each other’s shoulders.

Meanwhile, the kind auto driver offered to take me to the hospital at 50% above the meter fare. I cannot write my answer here, but the few words I said sufficed for him to agree to whatever is on the meter. I really am proficient in multiple languages, in terms of the choicest words one can use to invoke someone’s family members. It does not happen often, but when it does it is not a pretty sight though it is quite flowering and flowing in nature. Nor is it an olfactory pleasure.

Not so different then from the myriad sounds that the auto made while spluttering its way across town to bring me to my not so friendly neighbourhood hospital. During the ride, I called my wife. The first few stutters and stammers that I uttered were enough for her to ask me which hospital I was getting to.

Any which way and any which how, the difficult part was done. Now, I called up fellow bhpians for a shoulder to cry my thundering tears on. Well, it was more to keep myself awake. Though I haven’t heard of anyone having a concussion from a knee injury, I didn’t want to take any more risks. You never know with all the replacements these days, things could turn up where least expected!

So I stayed awake for some more time and sapped the Monday morning energy out of a couple of bhpians. I do owe you a couple of bun omelets, you know who you are!

[selfdrive]

At the OPD section, a couple of cops were waiting patiently for the doctor to finish his inspection of another patient. They were not able to decide what to make of a middle aged formally dressed guy being wheeled in towards the inspection table. The doctor was busy checking another guy on the next inspection table.

This guy had passed out from hitting his head onto another vehicle and they were trying to revive him. Some of his relatives turned up and then tried to convince the cops that the unconscious guy was a responsible and hardworking person. For good measure they added that the accident wasn’t his mistake though he was drunk.

Good going, I thought to myself. I don’t know what happened next to the guy’s case, as the cops and the doctor blocked my view.

Family members walked in and took charge of my situation. Thankfully, the wife didn’t come over to the hospital! Everyone continued to be surprised with the lack of external injuries, but more about the lack of impact to my trousers. To add insult to supposedly imagined injury, I was even told that the trousers seemed more impeccably ironed than usual.

The doctor came over and tried to flex my leg to understand what kind of injury I had. While he was doing that, I told him to take it easy or I would not be able to know which injury was caused outside the hospital and which one inside. I learnt that doctors don’t take humour very well, or what I consider to be funny at least. The doctors must be having some surgery to remove their funny bone while taking the Hippocratic oath.

I was wheeled out for an x ray, and was advised later it wasn’t a fracture. However, a MRI scan was recommended “just to be sure” apart from complete bed rest for the next two days.

My folks helped me hobble home to a thunderously silent and royal welcome. You could hear a bird flap in the field next door! I just could not take a shine to that, so I thumped (limped) away to my room

[selfdrive]

Later in the week, I booked an appointment for the MRI scan and reached the hospital at the scheduled time. Of course, someone from the family was driving me to all these hospitals across town. This was a new nightmare altogether as I could only fit in sideways in the rear seat. But then limpers cannot be choosers.

The MRI scan machine looked quite daunting, almost like a mini Soyuz rocket. The only thing it did not have was CCCP emblazoned across the side profile. It was the first time I had seen one so I was quite awestruck to be honest. It must be quite expensive considering they charged some 10K for a single scan that took maybe 20 minutes.

One thing I remember about that room was that it was freezing cold, so much that they had blankets for the patient to put on. The attendant handed me a pair of headphones and warned me that the machine would be quite noisy. Thankfully the songs were quite tolerable. In a few minutes it didn’t matter because that machine did create such a racket that I could not hear my own thoughts. Ok, thought, singular.

The next day I reached the hospital with my MRI reports. The doctor nodded sagely and muttered ACL. Great, I said to myself. I didn’t even know the difference between ACL and ACLU. But hey, that’s probably a few weeks off work. Except, I would have liked to hunt down the guy who invented data cards and working from home to have a short conversation about his intentions. It must have been a manager, sadistic to the core. I digress again.

Nevertheless, it transpired that the anterior cruciate ligament (ACL, you see. thanks Google!) buckled under all the pressure and well, there was now no ACL in place. So it needed to be reconstructed. The good doctor – or so I thought at the time - informed me that it would be a painless surgery to remove some extra tendons from my calf and attach it to my knee with the help of two screws. Well, that sounded simple enough. Not that I had any other option.

On hindsight, I should have asked him to sign on the dotted line when he said it would be painless. A date was decided for later that week and I was asked to go home and rest.

Suddenly, everyone I met knew someone who had undergone a ligament injury. I totally understood how it could be when someone is pregnant and the world and their mother in law is giving unwanted tips. The scary part was that everyone was talking about an equally long recovery period. Except for the nausea.

I asked my doctor and he said it depended on the efforts I could put into physiotherapy. Darn, this was going to take ages! And you always know something is up with these doctors, they never give straight answers. No offence meant to any doctor. Especially as they can be really mean when testing your joints or vocal chords. Which in my case go hand in hand, or knee to throat.

Whatever. I was in trauma. Too late after the accident (so called accident, as many of my friends noted. I downgraded them to acquaintances immediately). Too early for the surgery, so nowhere really.

Wait and watch was the mantra.

[selfdrive]

The day arrived.
I arrived at the hospital. On an empty stomach which for people like me is quite a lifetime achievement really. The attendant handed me a green cloth with some ‘nadis’ (strands) hanging out from all sides.

After a few minutes of fidgeting around trying to find out which side was the front, I gave up and looked at him. He pointed to a pocket on that as if indicating that was the front side.
Why would one need a pocket while being in surgery? Would I keep my mobile there, or some snacks?

While trying to cover my already modest modesty with that green cloth, I limped into the operation theatre with visions of bun omelets falling all around me.

Within a few seconds I was frozen to my bones. It really was that cold inside the operation theatre. Three grim faces that added to the coldness of the room pretended to cheer me up. Two of them were doctors and one an anesthetist, which however one spells that.

I did not understand what was so funny about what they said, but for some reason they were guffawing their tonsils out. They must be one of those front benchers from school. Geeks, I coughed to myself. I swear I almost heard somebody say pot and kettle. A bit too rich, coming from someone who sat in the middle row of benches. ‘Na back benches mein ginti, na front benchers mein bharti’ (literally translated as not counted in either groups)

I had already requested to be unconscious during the surgery as I didn’t want to see anything. The trio seemed uninterested till I threatened them I would ask questions if I was awake. That did the trick and they agreed to let me sleep through the procedure.

One suggestion, don’t ever threaten or crack jokes with a doctor who has an injection needle lying within hand’s reach. This is perhaps the entire room, so be warned. By the way, why is the saline prick into the hand always given while conscious? Why can’t there be a tablet which puts us to sleep and then the doctors do what they want to? Maybe some expert bhpians can confirm that.

For some reason the anesthesia is injected into the spine to numb the body hips downwards. This was said to be only a minor injection. I thought I would be ok with it, till the anesthetist actually inserted the needle in the middle of my spine. My instant reaction was to straighten the spine and the needle hit a bone. So I did have a spine. I made a note to remember that during future arguments.

Aargh, but that meant the needle had to be pulled out and inserted again. The first time it was as if I was being sat in a torture chamber and asked if I still dared to buy a Bullet. The second time it was like being asked if I dare to ride any bike. I just gave up and told myself I am not going to ride a bike again in my life. It really was that painful. The third time the anesthetist was successful, but the stinging of the anesthesia started numbing the spine and I was almost in tears from trying to fight back the pain at the same time as trying to keep the blanket over my shivering knees.

I heard one doctor asked the nurse why I was still wearing my shorts. Then the warm fuzzy feeling took over.

[selfdrive]

I groggily opened my eyes. The warm fuzzy feeling had given way to a cold wet one.

I felt a little tugging going on and everything below the hips was still numb. It was the attendants cutting the shorts from under the sheets. My privacy or whatever was left of it was being outraged. But a guy under sedation had no right to privacy especially considering he could not get a word out of his mouth sideways. I shut my eyes tight again, perhaps more due to embarrassment.

After what seemed like a minute to me, my eyes shuttered open. My throat was totally parched and badly needed some water. I was already starving for 12 hours and thirsty for a good 10 hours before the surgery. 4 hours more since the surgery started. Effectively, I had nothing to eat or drink not even water for 14 hours straight.

I understand people go through worse, but this was bad enough for me. My hope is that people reading this understand the pain involved even for small accidents. The best way to avoid this nuisance is to avoid an accident. In my head, I tried to replay the accident and brake on time, but I kept falling every time.

I felt as if I was reliving past incidents in my life. One moment I was in my school, another moment I was parasailing, at yet another moment I was back on my first bumbling date. Faces of people – school mates, friends, ex colleagues, neighbours - flashed past in a slideshow.

Calculations started flying around my head about my home mortgage balance, insurance cover, etc. I need to create a will, I thought to myself. I was drifting in and out of consciousness. It was as if being given a trailer to how people must feel before passing on. It was sheer madness. I hated every bit of it.

My eyes opened to find the doctor standing by my side. He instructed me to stay in the same position for 48 hours to avoid some doozy headache from the spinal anesthesia.

The advice was to drink a few sips of water in the next few hours and then eat normally later. Hang on. If I ate I would have to ‘go’ later. But I could not get up for the next 48 hours! The doctor smiled and pointing to a strategically placed pot & pan; said that they (the hospital) were fully equipped. I muttered something about doctors being sadistic and then dozed off again.

When the eyes opened next, hunger pangs were setting in. One look at the pan dissuaded me from eating anything. Day 1 was only fruit juice for me, with a couple of lectures from the doctor ordering me to eat food and me dozing away (or pretending to) when he spoke.

Within a few hours I had become an expert at using the pot. This was fine, but I truly despised the idea of using the pan. The family members also joined in the chorus to insist that I eat something, but I pretended to sleep.

[SDP]

Reading last 3 posts, I have started feeling bad for you.
Admire your spirit though!

[PatienceWins]

Thanks for sharing the incident. I am not regular with my knee guards while riding to office, which I rarely do nowadays. Your detailed narration helped to remind me to be safe than being sorry from now on.

[selfdrive]

Originally Posted by SDP

Reading last 3 posts, I have started feeling bad for you. Admire your spirit though!

As long as someone else drives better in order to stay out of hospital after reading this, it should be fine for me. even small swerves and bursts of rash driving or a temporary lack of alertness could cost us dearly.
Hence all the details!

Originally Posted by PatienceWins

Thanks for sharing the incident. I am not regular with my knee guards while riding to office, which I rarely do nowadays. Your detailed narration helped to remind me to be safe than being sorry from now on.

I am glad it helps. In my case, knee guards would not have helped either. Maybe if I chose not to plonk my foot down, but go sprawling across the turf

[athanedar]

Your style of narration is really good. Similar thoughts went through my mind when I had my hernia surgery (ouch !!! i know).
I feel sorry for your accident but at the same time three cheers for your narration. Your style of writing makes me smile during this dull afternoon time in office.

Waiting for more.

[pyrodrive]

Sorry to hear about all the pain you are going through. But good thing you got the MRI done which revealed the ACL injury. If untreated, it could have led to an unstable knee later on.
And nice to see that you have your sense of humour ( and also the writing skills) intact .
cheers and get well soon.