Trouble I
…Now that I’d learnt things are going to be unpleasant anyway, learnt life’s new lesson, I thought the huffing and puffing would go, silently sniggering at the momentary alarm caused and my day would go the way it normally it does….but ha..ha ha..not to be. I am still new to this cruel game!!! All that money spent on a brand new inhaler, which knowing me..wouldn’t be used more than 5 times before its expiry date..and it just doesn’t help, my breathing was still shallow, and I was really exhausted by then. Aside, that’s when I realised how effortless breathing usually is…;) So back to impending doom now; V, seeing me in the state I was, insisted on taking me to the hospital immediately..and me with all my bravado, must’ve inherited it from my father, refused. Besides, I had a perfectly valid reason. The cab driver, since I had changed my address, had decided to come hunting for my house so that I wouldn’t be late to work, and had reported at my place just while I was walking out in my torn pyjamas, so he was waiting for me back outside my house + I’d in a fit of unusual brilliance, left my cell at home..which meant there was no way I could call up anybody at work and let them know. Not because there weren’t any PCOs…am not that dim ok; more because I didn’t know a single person’s number off the top of my head, my phone is my lifeline not without reason, without it, I wouldn’t be able to get in touch with anybody, except my folks who very helpfully live halfway across the country!
I know, I know..am getting to the point..but I have to give background and all or not? Anyway..V, muttering dark things to himself, but sweetheart that he is, took me back home, made sure I got dressed and sat in the cab before he went back home. I still wonder what made me go to work..and now I remember, my reasoning was that atleast if I fell ill at work there’d be people around me to take care of me, unlike at home, where I’d have had to fend for myself…if only I’d been able to hold on for longer…that might’ve made sense. If you’re wondering what the hell I’m rambling about..you’ll know in a minute.
Finally, I got to office, and as I walked in any respite I might have had, disappeared. So this is how it looked….I walk into office…ppl are still admiring my new hairicut..this is Monday..so everyone wants to know what new scandal I was cooking up over the weekend…but I disappointed them all by barely managing to hiss out a Hi to some..walk to my desk..tell my team lead in between great gasps for air that I wasn’t well since evening, need to go to hospital which is a 2 minute walk from office, he wonders why I came in in the first place. I don’t have enough energy to answer..too much being taken up by will to stay alive; Find dear friend Mirji to come along to hospital, me not confident of making it till there alone, fight with driver, even if it meant greater gasps of breath( the damn idiot wanted us to go walking ). All this chaos; that word refuses to leave me alone, and we finally reached the casualty ward.
This is where the fun really begins. By now I was feeling slightly better, considerably more cheerful thanks to Mirji’s uncontested talent for saying the funniest and most unsuited things at the most inopportune moments. The doctor came to see me, and since I was feeling better anyway, I decided to give him a detailed account of exactly what I was feeling, including my entire history of hospitalisation due to asthma few years back, after which it had stayed hidden until today. The poor guy was an intern I guess, and my knowledge of things medical, coming as I did from a finance background, must’ve unnerved him and made him so insecure that he took his stethescope, a few perfunctory breathe ins and breathe outs, and then proudly gave me his diagnosis…”Panic Attack, you are just anxious about something, and that is making you think you are having shortness of breath”. I could’ve glady strangled him right there, if I’d been the kind of person with a murderous bent of mind; but I'm not, so I quietly told him, that firstly, the last emotion I could be feeling was panic, when I had a maniac like Mirji to keep me in splits, secondly, I’d been here before, so I knew exactly what was happening to me, and exactly how it would progress if not taken care of pretty soon. My guess is he was pretty ticked off by a puny ( height wise) thing telling him what to do, coz he stuck to his diagnosis, refused to listen to me, but then decided to give me a little nebulisation (which is basically medicated oxygen), which ofcourse made me feel infinitely better.
I was happily looking forward to going back to work and flying home in a few days, when I suddenly realised V had been informed I was in hospital, and next thing I see, he’s standing right next to me, thrusting his phone in my face, having dialled my mother’s number..the last person I wanted to talk to right then.
To be continued…....
I know, I know..am getting to the point..but I have to give background and all or not? Anyway..V, muttering dark things to himself, but sweetheart that he is, took me back home, made sure I got dressed and sat in the cab before he went back home. I still wonder what made me go to work..and now I remember, my reasoning was that atleast if I fell ill at work there’d be people around me to take care of me, unlike at home, where I’d have had to fend for myself…if only I’d been able to hold on for longer…that might’ve made sense. If you’re wondering what the hell I’m rambling about..you’ll know in a minute.
Finally, I got to office, and as I walked in any respite I might have had, disappeared. So this is how it looked….I walk into office…ppl are still admiring my new hairicut..this is Monday..so everyone wants to know what new scandal I was cooking up over the weekend…but I disappointed them all by barely managing to hiss out a Hi to some..walk to my desk..tell my team lead in between great gasps for air that I wasn’t well since evening, need to go to hospital which is a 2 minute walk from office, he wonders why I came in in the first place. I don’t have enough energy to answer..too much being taken up by will to stay alive; Find dear friend Mirji to come along to hospital, me not confident of making it till there alone, fight with driver, even if it meant greater gasps of breath( the damn idiot wanted us to go walking ). All this chaos; that word refuses to leave me alone, and we finally reached the casualty ward.
This is where the fun really begins. By now I was feeling slightly better, considerably more cheerful thanks to Mirji’s uncontested talent for saying the funniest and most unsuited things at the most inopportune moments. The doctor came to see me, and since I was feeling better anyway, I decided to give him a detailed account of exactly what I was feeling, including my entire history of hospitalisation due to asthma few years back, after which it had stayed hidden until today. The poor guy was an intern I guess, and my knowledge of things medical, coming as I did from a finance background, must’ve unnerved him and made him so insecure that he took his stethescope, a few perfunctory breathe ins and breathe outs, and then proudly gave me his diagnosis…”Panic Attack, you are just anxious about something, and that is making you think you are having shortness of breath”. I could’ve glady strangled him right there, if I’d been the kind of person with a murderous bent of mind; but I'm not, so I quietly told him, that firstly, the last emotion I could be feeling was panic, when I had a maniac like Mirji to keep me in splits, secondly, I’d been here before, so I knew exactly what was happening to me, and exactly how it would progress if not taken care of pretty soon. My guess is he was pretty ticked off by a puny ( height wise) thing telling him what to do, coz he stuck to his diagnosis, refused to listen to me, but then decided to give me a little nebulisation (which is basically medicated oxygen), which ofcourse made me feel infinitely better.
I was happily looking forward to going back to work and flying home in a few days, when I suddenly realised V had been informed I was in hospital, and next thing I see, he’s standing right next to me, thrusting his phone in my face, having dialled my mother’s number..the last person I wanted to talk to right then.
To be continued…....
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