As the Operation Theatre’s door closed and they wheeled me in, the last face I saw was of him through the glass door. He waved and sent me a flying kiss. The uncertainty and fear was clearly visible on his face. I myself wasn’t sure if I would ever be able to see that face again. I closed my eyes with just that face to remember and prayed for the very first time in those eight days. I wanted to live, I wanted to live for him, with him, as his strength. I didn’t want anyone to blame him.
Inside the OT, the anesthesiologist was asking me various questions to distract me from looking at the various medical equipment that were there in the room. All I remember is the doc asking me my name and my husband’s name and then my qualification, and before I could answer there was a sudden gush of some liquid through one of my veins and then everything went blank and it was just peace. No pain, no dead end, no worries. Everything just ceased to exist. Pure vacuum.
They transferred me onto the ward bed in that semi-conscious state. I tried opening my eyes to figure out who was around. The moment I recognized his shadow, I just touched his arm with whatever little strength I had. And when he came close to my face, I uttered with all my might,
“They didn’t perform laparoscopy, but they performed the open surgery. Please do check if they have removed my kidneys or uterus.“
I could feebly hear the laughter that arose among whoever was there in the vicinity as he repeated to them what I had just told him. He replied,
“Don’t worry. Now that you’re back, we’ll take care of everything.“
I was under the effect of sedation and was sleeping for the past few hours. I just woke up to a slow hush-hush conversation that was happening in the ward. The lights had been switched off. The radium clock that was hanging on the wall showed it was half past two. I heard him telling the husband of this patient on the adjacent bed about our marriage, my illness and how worried he was about the surgery. At that time (I was just 24 and he was 28), our family had not accepted us after our continued efforts for many months of staying together and we had just moved out and had started our independent life. I very well knew how lonely and helpless he was feeling at that particular moment. I slowly moved the plastic curtain and saw him wiping off his tears.
A little later he came and lied down on the bed sheet provided by the hospital on the floor next to my bed. I wanted to speak to him, but because of the pain due to the pipes that were inserted through my throat I couldn’t utter anything. I forgot all my pain then and all I wanted to do was to throw away the cannulas from both my hands, remove the catheter, run to him and just hug him till eternity. But all I could do was keep looking at him all throughout the night. Don’t know when I fell asleep. Early in the morning, he woke up and as he planted a kiss on my forehead, I held his hand and wanted the moment to just stay forever. That was the day I once again realized that there’s no one else I would want to spend my life with, but him.
Our day of realizing what real love was. We knew we were just meant for each other and that’s why North met South.
We had a love marriage. Acceptance took time for both families, but he was always there with me during each and every tough moment. And at every step, he told me,
“#Together we can and we will move mountains.”
Yes. #Together we did move all the mountains over the years.
We play, we tease, we argue, we fight, we debate, but all in all, we know that we love each other. And that’s all that matters.
This post has been written for #together campaign hosted by https://housing.com/.