tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-43961165107605538512024-03-13T21:09:47.824-07:00Whose life is it, anyway?Vasundhara Raghavanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11739010899688850669noreply@blogger.comBlogger1125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4396116510760553851.post-14027309497729590162012-09-21T23:51:00.001-07:002012-09-21T23:51:20.534-07:00Whose life is it, anyway?<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="font-family: "Comic Sans MS";"><span style="font-size: large;">Monday morning began in slow
motion, after a weekend that had been relaxing, reading my all-time favorite,
The Catcher in the Rye between cups of coffee, marveling at Salinger’s
ingenuity. I was waiting for the publisher’s call to fix our meeting on the
next publication. For the present I needed something more engaging, something
that will keep my mind occupied. Overtaken by restlessness I stepped out for a
breadth of fresh air. Hopefully when I return to my notebook, some fresh ideas
would surface making the next book, a best seller. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Comic Sans MS";">Once outside, I strolled lazily,
my eyes searching the street. In a distance I saw a man crossing the road.
‘There's something odd’, I thought. <o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
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</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Comic Sans MS";"><span style="font-size: large;">Watching him closely, I realized
it had something to do with his gait. It was possible that he was pulling a
load, but from where I stood watching him, I found nothing visible. My eyes
moved across the street. The traffic signal for crossing was now 2 seconds to
go. I grew anxious for him to cover the balance distance before it became a
stop sign for pedestrians. <o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
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</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Comic Sans MS";"><span style="font-size: large;">My gaze moved to other people on
either side of the road. There was a lady walking briskly, towards me on the
opposite pavement. She was clutching a floral print cane basket. A man dressed
casually, wore a worried look as he was desperately searching his wallet; a cop
car cruised to a halt at the far end of the road and there were a few well
dressed walking men making their way to some meeting, heading to a Starbucks or
possibly just to an ATM. <o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
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</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Comic Sans MS";"><span style="font-size: large;">I turned my attention to see the
man of my first interest. Finally he had reached the pavement. He seemed to be
taking a deep breath. So did I. But somehow there was a lingering doubt if all
was well with him. I fixed my gaze on him, his legs and was expecting some more
action.<o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
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</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Comic Sans MS";"><span style="font-size: large;">As he turned, he began walking
slowly towards me I noticed that he was stooping on his left side. ‘Ah! His
left leg is shorter’, I thought trying desperately to fix the puzzle. ‘Or is he
blind?’ was the next thought that raced through my brain. <o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
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</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Comic Sans MS";"><span style="font-size: large;">Suddenly my human instinct drove
me to do things, I normally would hesitate to do. With heightened curiosity, I
began my walk towards this mystery man who held my attention captive in the
last seven minutes.<o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
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</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Comic Sans MS";"><span style="font-size: large;">He stopped mid way, making me
impatient. I continued to stroll wanting to get a closer look. <o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
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</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Comic Sans MS";"><span style="font-size: large;">We were about 10 feet away when
suddenly I was stalled by a four wheeler exiting a mall. So deeply engrossed I
was on the subject of my speculation that I was surprised to find a vehicle
whizzing past. <o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
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</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Comic Sans MS";"><span style="font-size: large;">I looked ahead into open space as
the man in pain was not within sight. With a few hurried steps and heart
pounding wildly I reached the block where he was seen last. Turning to my right
I saw him lying in a pile against an iron railing. <o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
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</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Comic Sans MS";"><span style="font-size: large;">Alarmed at the sight, I took a
step forward, reached out gently, “Hello…is everything fine with you?" He
looked at me blankly, and I realized his eyes had vision. He was trying to
breathe but found great difficulty doing that. He said simply, “Yeah sure,
feeling lousy." I asked tentatively, "Is your leg hurting?"<o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
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</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Comic Sans MS";"><span style="font-size: large;">“Not really," he said in a
very tired voice. “I think my leg is heavy”.<o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
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</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Comic Sans MS";"><span style="font-size: large;">I was in a fix. I must get him
medical help, my mind said. As a visitor to Los Angeles, I had learnt of a
County hospital that gave emergency treatment. Yielding to my sense of
righteousness, I pulled out my hand phone and dialed 911. I was subjected to
questions on emergency condition and exact location. Responding with as much
details as I could share, I was relieved and looked at my subject reassuringly.
I prayed that I did the right thing. <o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
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</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Comic Sans MS";"><span style="font-size: large;">Even as I was replacing my phone
back into my coat pocket, the blare of the cop car, and high pitch roaring
sounds of fire engine and ambulance arrested my attention. I was not expecting
so much to happen and that too in a matter of minutes. <o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
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</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Comic Sans MS";"><span style="font-size: large;">The emergency services had
arrived. Responsible for the phone call, I was asked several questions before
the man in pain was placed on a stretcher and lifted into the facility. I
climbed onto the ambulance knowing well my responsibility to complete this
task. <o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
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</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Comic Sans MS";"><span style="font-size: large;">The ambulance attendant began
talking and collecting the patient’s personal data. He was 35 year old Tom
Standler and we were heading to the LA County Hospital. The ambulance
nurse-cum- technician checked Tom's vital signs during the drive to the
hospital.<o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
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</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Comic Sans MS";"><span style="font-size: large;">Blood pressure was – 140/90. Low
breathing, so Tom was connected to oxygen. <o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
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</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Comic Sans MS";"><span style="font-size: large;">While the admissions were being
done, we were seated near the ER. Many serious accident cases, wounded
criminals accompanied by cops were given priority. Others were with serious
conditions, needing immediate attention. Tom slouched beside me, resting his
head on my shoulders as we continued our wait.<o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
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</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Comic Sans MS";"><span style="font-size: large;">It was almost one hour later that
Tom was met by a junior nurse who asked profile questions and how he felt. Tom
was unemployed, lost his wife a few months earlier, hence single and neglected.
He gave his social security number. I managed to butt in with the BP data,
hoping it could give indications. She ignored me, so I was pleasantly surprised
when she returned within a few minutes to wheel Tom into a cubicle. I tagged
along more out of concern. <o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
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</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Comic Sans MS";"><span style="font-size: large;">The testing process started. <o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
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</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Comic Sans MS";"><span style="font-size: large;">Nurses, interns walked in at
different times to check pulse and blood pressure, to collect blood samples. We
waited patiently. A stout nurse came in to collect a sample of the urine. But
Tom was unable to pass urine, which she noted in the admissions sheet. She
walked out. <o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
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</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Comic Sans MS";"><span style="font-size: large;">Tom rested intermittently and I
sat wondering if the publisher had called. I quickly made a few urgent calls
from outside the ER and returned to find a shocked Tom looking up at me.<o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
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</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Comic Sans MS";"><span style="font-size: large;">Slowly he spoke with as much calm
as he could muster, “I have a kidney failure:"<o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
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</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Comic Sans MS";"><span style="font-size: large;">I sat and my first thought was I
must console him. But as an after-thought I told him to get treated. He nodded
slowly, but thoughtfully while we continued our wait. <o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
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</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Comic Sans MS";"><span style="font-size: large;">Some time later a nurse came in.
Tom was being moved to a ward. They would start him on dialysis as his
creatinine was 1300. So paperwork for admission started. I looked at my watch.
16.20 hours. No wonder my stomach was growling. <o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
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</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Comic Sans MS";"><span style="font-size: large;">I became aware of Tom's eyes on
me. His eyes expressed his gratitude while he vocalized his feelings, “Good we
reached on time". He concluded that I should leave. Gathering my wits I
agreed, promising to meet him the next day. <o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
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</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Comic Sans MS";"><span style="font-size: large;">I left the hospital premise
relieved to be out of the intense atmosphere where people were fighting
illnesses. Here, Tom Standler would find his chance to survive. I was glad to
have been instrumental in his health recovery.<o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
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</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><i><span style="font-family: "Comic Sans MS";">[The above is not based on any
real life story or incidents. Any resemblance to a similar story is purely
coincidental.]</span></i><span style="font-family: "Comic Sans MS";"><o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
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Vasundhara Raghavanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11739010899688850669noreply@blogger.com0