This supposedly vestigial worm-like organ sometimes goes crazy. And even kills if not snapped in time.
It started like a pain from an air pocket just below my liver. My fat bad liver - spoilt by my compulsive culinary excesses. It has a long illustrious history, which has even forced me to implement periodic corrective incremental alterations of my metabolic output. Only to go back again to relative peace and let it fatten. And so I ignored it - for two days, till it pricked hard.
On visiting a doctor at a branded Hospital, he smelt the rat. He was obviously quite excited - a referral will get him a minor bonus at the least. He stooped down on the examination bed, pricked and pinched my belly, and questioned me like a convict - on when the pain started - since, it was very important to the diagnosis. On finding that it was just a couple of days old, and had the "rebound" tenderness, his eyes shone.
We had a hasty ultrasonography, where the professional commented on the a certain dimension of the organ being within the upper limits of allowance, but was quite convinced that it had gone bad. And when I revealed that I was covered by a corporate health insurance policy from my multinational employer, my doctor had hit his jackpot.
"Acute Appendicitis and that means immediate surgery! We'll get it operated today."
It was already late evening - that means tonight! I called home immediately. We had come back from Calcutta that very morning. I had fortunately recruited a new driver that same day, but a maid was not there yet. My wife without any help, I wanted to gather my things and come back. I really wanted to come back - to the same hospital, and get admitted.
But will you ever spare a blank cheque as a bookmark to your child's comic book, even for a few hours?
They almost pounced on me - got me admitted with almost no paperwork, without an advance and by the time my wife had arrived, I was already dressed in their patient uniform. They did not have a bed for me yet - and even their emergency ward was filled with in-patients. My place was a waiting bench at the emergency ward - where they got my temperature, pressure and even the intravenous incision done on my hand. (Of course, lying down.) It would take me an hour more waiting on that bench till I got my bed in the Emergency ward.
While being health insured with a corporate policy is nice, you still feel like knowing the money being swindled in your name. And so I sent my wife to have a peek at the insurance desk. She came back with a delightful story.
The guys at the insurance desk revealed their target: 50K. They were bickering over the how to reach there. One of them was clueless on what more to add to the expected expenses since he was wayward away from it. Others hinted on additional consultation fees, OT consumables, costlier beds, longer retention and even an HIV test. I fear they would have had a staged cardiac arrest on the cards, in case the bar had been even higher.
The gleaming surgeon soon visited me. Seeing that the reins are secure he quickly deferred his colleague's decision to operate me during the night. "Let's wait for all the reports to come in as well - no need to hurry".
"Good - but I could have got admitted tomorrow - I swear I would have come back here!", I thought. That would have saved a day of room rent.
It was a bad portion of my large intestine, and the doctor wanted it empty as well, without giving it a chance to be refilled. No food - just intravenous glucose. And I would repeatedly beckon one of the Mallu (colloquial for Keral-ite) nurses (who always spoke inconspicuous Hindi) to disconnect my IV so that I could relieve myself of excess fluids.
(continued to here ...)
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