Dude, you're screwed!

Viv often used to show me the various injuries his hands had sustained while playing cricket. It was true. His fingers did resemble the arms of a starfish - they looked like they were each headed in a different direction. Except for the little finger on his left hand, which was the only one that kinda looked normal.

So during last saturday's cricket practice, he decided to do something about it.

After practice, when he reported to me with the swollen hand, we rushed to the hospital. The x-ray confirmed that it was a fracture, but they did not put a cast on it. We were asked to go back on Monday to see the orthopaedic surgeon, in case surgery was required.

We were back in the hospital on Monday and saw Dr. Y, a sports injuries specialist, who confirmed that surgery would be required, and that he would need to put in some titanium screws and metal plates to hold the bones. He gave us a slot for the same day.

We went home to rest, and also to call the parents. It's strange how all moms of the world react in the same manner to news like this.

His mom - "Stop playing cricket!"
My mom - "Stop playing cricket!"

My mom (to me) - "Ask him to stop playing cricket! Yeh koi umar hai cricket khelne ki?"

Sheesh.

So I decided to go into my drama queen mode.

"Mom, what are you saying?? Viv plays for Singapore! Would you ask Tendulkar to stop playing because he got injured??"

Of course, Mom did not dare compare her son with her son-in-law. Yes, just like millions of other moms in India, my Mom too truly believes that Sachin Tendulkar is her son. And you thought three wannabe-dads vying for Anna Nicole Smith's baby was too much.

Anyway, we went back to the hospital in the afternoon, and they wheeled him away for the surgery at about 5 pm. I waited in the ward itself. At first, I paced the floor like an expectant father, then realised it was not only futile (the surgeon had told me that the procedure would take about one and a half hours, add to that the pre-surgery procedures and I had a solid 3-4 hours' wait ahead of me), it was also tiring. Plus, there was nothing to really worry about, Dr. Y was very experienced, and knew Viv's cricket buddies, and I was confident he would do a good job.

So I decided to look out of the window at the man who was sweeping the carpark. After watching him for half an hour, I realised it was not fun anymore. I looked around for other things to do. Not much was happening in the ward and the other patients were also kinda quiet. I actually started wishing I had Robin William's red clown-nose. Sheesh.

Fortunately, Viv's bed had a TV with about ten channels or so. Unfortunately, the speaker was attached to the bed. I could not have increased the volume without disturbing the other patients. The only way was to get into the bed and watch TV there. Of course, the bed was for the patient, but hey, I was the patient one here! Anyway, I decided not to do it, and watch it on mute instead. After a while, Ellen Degeneres and Tyra Banks mouthing blank words made no sense whatsoever, and I actually got irritated at the laughing audience cos I was left out of the jokes. Hmmph! :/

So I decided to switch it to a Malay channel because it had English subtitles. Some cookery show was going on, and this chick was trying to learn how to make minced meat from an old lady. After the minced meat was labouriously cooked, the chick said she wanted to make something too. Fish and chips. The old lady looked impressed. After she'd made the fish, the chick took out a pack of frozen chips and put them in to fry. Looking totally taken aback, the old lady paused and then politely asked, "You bought the frozen chips?" I'm sure she wanted to stress the 'bought' but she stressed the 'you' instead. Oh only I know how I controlled my laughter. The chick said, "Yes, I bought them. Actually I wanted to make the chips from scratch, but it is actually very difficult." This time I could not suppress my laughter, and the patient in front of me gave me a queer look.

This too, soon got incredibly boring. So I pulled out one of the pillows from the bed, put it on the chair, and sat down. It had been about two hours. What can I do now, I asked myself. I was feeling worried, but told myself that if my worrying could solve problems, I'd worry all night. But it couldn't. So I decided to while away time coming up with really bad jokes about his surgery to cheer him up.

Spiderman ishtyle - "Titanium man Titanium man, friendly neighbourhood Titanium man!"

Sunil Shetty ishtyle - "Yeh haath faulaad ke baney hain, faulaad ke!"

"Log kehte hain meri ungliyon mein jaadu hai, tumhari ungliyon mein kya hai? Titanium screws! Muahahaha!"

Bimbo ishtyle - "Darlin', I bought you titanium for your finger. Wouldn't you buy me platinum for mine? With some diamonds thrown in too?" *eyelash flutter flutter*

And finally, my favourite: "Dude, you're screwed!"

After the endless waiting, Dr. Y came to see me. He told me that the operation had gone off well, that he had to put in "a lot of screws" and that Viv was still under the effect of the anaesthesia. It's a bit scary when a surgeon uses imprecise words like "a lot of screws" but I had faith in Dr. Y so I did not panic too much.

Disclaimer: Posting the before and after pics of the x-ray images was Viv's idea, not mine. :/

Half an hour later, they finally brought Viv out of the operation theatre. His hand was bandaged all the way till his elbow, he was on IV and he looked incredibly drowsy. The nurse told him, "Try to sleep, okay? No talking." Hey, why did she look at me when she said that? It was not like I was gonna blabber. :/

"Nurse, if he sleeps now, what about his dinner? He hasn't had food or water since 11.30 am." Okay fine, I did blabber.

She gave me one of those looks that nurses give you when you say something that implies they're not doing their jobs well. "He will wake up for dinner, trust me he will." She said.

Fine. Just asking! Hmmmph! :/

Then she looked at him and said, "If you don't sleep now, you can't go home tomorrow!" Kinda reminded me of my kindergarten teacher, "Sayesha, if you don't stop shooting pencils around the class, you can't go home today!" So I decided not to tell him my treasure of bad jokes in case I got scolded by the nurse.

But it looked like he had something to say, even in that drugged state. Even though I tried to 'shhh' him with sheepish glances at the nurse, he still managed to smile and say the three magic words that made me smile too.

"Blog about this?"