Inpatient Diaries

Just after 3 days in the somewhat underrated Gautam Nagar Hospital, I am back "home," safe and sound in Green Park. Gautam Nagar is an interesting experience in and of itself. A glance at it from the outside, one might suspect that there isn't anything resembling a hospital at all--with an entrance located in a darkened, narrow alleyway, neighborhood kids and feral dogs running around at all hours, and enough motorbikes to cause a backup way beyond the confines of the semi-paved road. But GN is something special. Immediately upon my arrival, I was barely hanging out of the taxi, mid-transfer, before I was scooped up by some of the ward boys to carry me, Sarah, Erin, and all of our necessities (I think 6 bags of junk to keep our mouths, brains, and fingers occupied) without a word. Giving me a choice in rooms, I decided--probably too rashly--on the room that I could actually navigate to the toilet. If I had another go at it I might possibly opt for the room with a window... there's always a next time.

The staff at GN is remarkable. I was always greeted with a smile, whether it be from a ward boy, a sister, a physiotherapist, or a doctor. I must say that these people, both at GN and GP, really know something about patient care. They are genuinely interested in who you are as a person and will ask you to sit and chat for awhile about the USA or cinema or food or cell phones.

My procedure began about an hour after my arrival, giving us time to settle in and acquire some keen hospital fashion with a BIG green gown. The initial procedure was done in the Operating Theatre where they inserted a fairly long catheter into the base of my spine, surrounding my spinal cord. The catheter was then taped up to my neck. It was very strange to feel vertebral restriction from tape. At the end of the catheter was a port for the stem cells to go. My first injection was given to me there. From then on, once in the morning and once in the evening I received these sort of injections as I laid, strategically, in different positions for 2 hours at a time in my hospital bed. First my back twice, then my right side, then my left, next was prone, and finally sitting up.

Each time I had an injection I encountered a new and exciting feeling. With the help of gravity, positioning, and a few newspaper covered bricks Dr. Ashish was able to send those cells EXACTLY where he wanted them. With each trigger of the syringe and each breath in my lungs, Dr. Ashish attentively asked WHAT I felt. I would give him the most detailed response that I could muster, though always feeling as if my description was merely sub-par. Although, at one point he asked as always automatically, "Where do you feel it now?" My answer was a little hesitant, "In my throat?!" Then he proceeded to poke me in the throat in the exact spot that it was uncomfortable and wanted to know, rhetorically, as if he always knew about that spot.

Throughout these 3 days of idle repose I was able to not only relaaaaaaaaaaaax a bit and read a book or 2, but I was also able to have time to look inside a bit; beyond the muscle tissue and newly developed adipose (thank you ghee), beyond the fretted synapses, beyond the cerebral structure of what I know. Yesterday, while sitting alone in my room for the immense span of 2 welcomed hours I had a conversation with my legs.

There is where I realized that I had severely neglected, even ridiculed them at times. So atrophied and small, death-ridden in color, and scars that could and would scare a child. I had tucked them away under long pants and under the valleys and peaks of my consciousness. (For those who know me well know that I hadn't even shaved my legs in give or take 4 hairy years.) For some reason, looking down with my legs outstretched as I reposition for the millionth time, it sparked something inside of me. My legs may have said something like, "Hey lady, did you forget about us? If you really want us to do something for you it wouldn't hurt you to be a little nicer. You make us feel bad being so ashamed of what who we are and what we've been through together. How 'bout a truce?"

Right then and there, I jumped from my princess and the pea bed and headed to the toilet that I can navigate oh so well. I grabbed my disposable razor and began hacking away at that forest until I could finally see the knees between those trees.

What a difference this new synthesis of mind and body make. I now am the proud owner of baby smooth legs that are crying to show off their slowly transforming progress. They giggle ecstatically at the sight of the "baby" calf muscle and have sent away for a neon sign to display their very proudly regenerating skin grafts and scars.

So I guess it isn't so bad to be without internet for a few days...or perhaps it absolutely is. Regardless, I should probably lay off the Tom Robbins prior to writing a blog entry.