Skip to main content


There is a thin line between sleep and wakefulness in a hospital. The constant rounds of the nurse every few hours make it impossible to have a straight seven to eight hours sleep.It is like being in an airport. You might find a spot to nap but you long for home. When you are outside your home and sleep deprived, nothing brings as much comfort as the thought of your own bed.

Lolo manages cat naps. I keep awake. Sleep is last on my mind. In our room, we have a small DVD player, plenty of movies and a book of crosswords too. There is plenty to do but little energy. Lolo watched a movie today and I finished a book. In between, we took turns at crossword, something we normally do when one of us gets stuck! Would have been so much easier if we could relieve physical pains together, that ways it is collective onus.

But there is one reason why hospitals are hospitals. It is a place where you expect the unexpected. Sometimes there could be three or four hours of no tension and one moment, a fever crops up or a blood pressure rises or skin allergy erupts and you are brought back to that feeling of an unexplained fear. Although that fear is accompanied by a sense of consolation because you know you are in the hands of very able doctors and nurses, who leave no stone unturned when it comes to care.

Strangely, I like to be be cooped up in Room 12 A. I have found a cosy chair to sit, read, type and look out at the amazing view outside the window. The other eye is always on Lolo. I have my teas coming in whenever I want and that is all I want really. Sometimes when I do feel peckish, I go down to the cafe and have my favourite, fattening tortellini. Times becomes a drag only when I am waiting for results. When it comes to being with Lolo, every minute spent is worth it.


Anonymous said…
Good point, though sometimes it's hard to arrive to definite conclusions

Popular posts from this blog

A Mad Man Or A Boor

What does one do when one encounters a mad dog? Or what does one do when one encounters a man with pre-fixed notions about everything in life, most specifically of women who live alone and give him some importance? The two are equivalent to me and basic intelligence says avoid the paths they tread like plague. But I chose to tackle them head on. I almost got rabbies. The mad man said [sic] " You sound like a very desperate person. A single and frustrated woman who is looking for anyone to leave a comment on your blog so much so that you wouldn't even spare a spammer ." Spammer being, the first comment on the previous post is apparently a spam, an advert for T-shirts. Bummer! I thought it was a handsome Spaniard or Latino, so I had replied "Hi Rodrigo", hoping to take the conversation forward offline. Anyway! All this the mad man found out. I didnt. Sure, I dig comments because I love the spontaneity and intelligence of my friends. And I didn't invite the ma


Two million people at the National Mall in Washington alone. The world watched too as Barack Obama was sworn in as the 44th President of the United States. So did I. I rudely cut roomie's soap operas and switched to CNN to witness history being created. Some day I may live to tell the tale of how Barack, the much touted Afro-American President of the United States, stumbled with his swearing-in oath. I was a bit disappointed as I watched the man who had run the most successful of election campaigns, the man who Americans were pinning their hopes on, take his oath. Clearly, he was under too much of a pressure to be the best. So before Chief Justice John Roberts could complete the first sentence, there was Obama abruptly breaking out into his first names... " I Barack Hussein Obama.." and then waited for the judge to complete the sentence.. The next line was even taxing. He stopped short after two words... " That I will excute ..." and then Justice Roberts cont

Good Girls Don't Drink?

I have been disturbed by the news coming out of my region – the northeast of India - where a teenage girl coming out of a bar at 9:30 pm was molested and beaten by a group of 20 men. The news has even found its way down under for the shocking nature of it. Tabloids and even TV have carried the news. I have always prided myself in belonging to a region that is known for its high tolerance and where women are generally safe and independent. But I have always felt a bit squidgy about Guwahati unlike the rest of the seven sisters. The place is so like the rest of India in many ways, dirty and claustrophobic. That explains why bars are looked upon as sleazy places and women going there beaten up as with the recent case. Just 150 km away is Shillong, the place where I grew up. Night clubs thrive there and till date there has been no case of attacks against women. Reading the news, I am appalled by some of the reactions. “But the girl was drinking,” or “only prostitutes visit that