To My Core!

I am feeling a surge of happy hormones flowing through my system -  the kind I usually feel at the waiting lounge before my haircut, especially when I am about to try something rather experimental for the first time. Only this time, it wasn’t my routine salon visit but a ‘Dexterish’ date with the scalpel!

The fully round orange is about to be sliced and wrapped in a mesh that will serve as a permanent boundary wall - a metaphor I used to explain the surgical procedure to my kids. (Yes, they did picture the muscles creeping up the mesh like vines on a wall from her 2nd grade EVS lesson, and it really did help).

We chose an unfamiliar city- Mumbai, 700 kms from home -  because of the comfort we felt in the surgeon we knew well. Less than 24 hours after landing in Mumbai, consulting the doctor, and clearing the medical formalities, I was wheeled into the operation theatre. All I remember is my eyelids growing heavy, the reassuring smile of my surgeon and the gentle prick of the anaesthesiologist as I drifted into unconsciousness.

Three hours later, I heard the nurses saying, “Shaily get up!” and “The surgery went well”. Unlike last time I didn't emerge from anesthesia floating on Aladdin's magic carpet, but in a very boring, indescribable way. I tried to speak but no words came out of my mouth. Slowly I gathered myself, first a blink, then a breath, and bit by bit, I gestured to them to take me back to my room.  My relief flooded the moment I saw my husband waiting for me.

Soon, my so-far brave face gave in to the extensive repair that had taken place deep within my core muscles. The first three hours were the hardest of my life, with doctors and nurses checking in every 15 minutes - sometimes to take follow ups, sometimes to change my IV fluids and sometimes- bafflingly- to measure my abdominal girth (Imagined squeezing my freshly stitched muscle to raise my hip so that the two nurses could measure the circumference of my tummy??!! I am definitely deducting their ratings for this one as IMHO it was absolutely unnecessary at that particular point). Thankfully, my husband insisted on putting me on aggressive pain management, which eased initial recovery days. 

But the mission was far from over. 

While my core rejoiced the much deserved rest, my upper back muscles completely refused to let that happen. I must admit, juggling between keeping these two oppositely demanding sets of muscles happy, became my daily routine. I would sit up to calm my back and then lie down to please my core, and repeat the cycle. My husband, meanwhile, juggled between adjusting my endless pillow positions, tweaking the room temperatures to suit my flip-flopping requests, swapping his vegetable bowl for my bland one (bless him!) and mastering the art of two perfectly partitioned plaits in my hair every single day! Amidst this recovery rhythm, my mind often wandered home - to the giggles, hugs, and familiar chaos - I missed so deeply.

Somewhere in between the comfort of the hospital staff, the distant glance of the Arabian waves, the siren of the last 2 am local train at Charni Road, the towering high-rise buildings, the swaying palms outside my window, the pouring Mumbai rains, and the city’s never-fading buzz, I saw myself picking up strength all over again!

So, how is the orange holding up now? It better be good because I’m not signing up for any more slices!