Wednesday, June 29, 2011

Disaster Dvadasi

Dvadasi Morning. I woke up to shower and start my Deities puja around five-thirty. Disaster struck, though I was expecting it the day before, I went off the altar. I was excluded from performing puja and cooking a nice Dvadasi breakfast for Their Lordships, my favorite activity on Dvadasi mornings. I spent my entire morning holed up in my bedroom cleaning and tidying up instead, though I was upset, I tried not to let it dampen my mood. Usually I'm so busy cooking, cleaning and running around the rest of the house that I never, ever get time to clean my own bedroom, my sanctuary. This was a good time to focus on resting and myself. After Chandaneswar prabhu finished puja, I was just about finished in my room and prasadam was ready. We took breakfast together and I resumed my chores, by this time, I was in incredible pain and Chandaneswar prabhu ordered that I take a good, long nap, "You need rest, Madri, I'll make you some tea but then you go sleep." I felt like a child, it's not like I was completely incapacitated but that's how my husband was treating me. Like an incapable child. I was indignant.
Still, I happily took the nap. 
In the afternoon, Chandaneswar prabhu cooked lunch, offered, then headed off to the temple where he had to cook for Their Lordships Radha Kalachandji. I wondered in amazement, how it was possible for a man to do this much service and accept it without any trouble? He even made me some tamarind tea and bought my prasadam to bed, where I rested and watched devotional videos on the laptop. Some were silly, some were very moving, even to tears. Again he told me to take some pain relievers, he knows that though I hate allopathic medicine, its the only thing strong enough to stop the painful cramping. Stubborn and childish, I still refused ibuprofen and refilled my canteen with water. 
Around five-thirty, I hear Chandaneswar prabhu arrive home, I get up hoping to greet him but Krishna Chandra comes running to me in tears. "What happened?" I see blood as he cups his little hands over his mouth. When I look inside, I'm distracted by the blood and tell him to sit still while I get some ice. Chandaneswar prabhu brings the ice and I find a clean handkerchief to apply it. Poor baby. I took him to the bathroom to clean his mouth with some warm saline and after the blood stops, I take another look. I ask him repeatedly "What happened?" but he won't give me details only "I hit the wooden drawer/dresser." I see a cut but I'm sure there was too much blood for just that tiny nick. Back to the bedroom, I'm trying to calm him, my hysterical husband and tolerate the excruciating pain I'm in by this time. I ask KC to lay back, head tilted so I can take a closer look at the upper lip and there I see it. His frenulum was cut open, a gaping cut about an inch wide, huge in comparison to his little mouth. I calmly approached my husband and told him we would need to take Krishna Chandra to the hospital, in case he needed stitches. We arrived at Children's Hospital and I prayed the doctors would give us a quick wave of the hand, "it's nothing serious, you can go home, it will heal on it's own" gesture and we would be home before we knew it. If only we were so lucky. The nurse in ER triage admitted him and we waited for another nurse to see him, again we were re-routed to another 'pod' where we waited to see someone else. We finally get our own exam room where we were alone, were visited by a couple more women. By this time, I didn't even bother to notice titles on their name tags; they could have been nurses, doctors or medical assists for all I know. And I didn't care a damn anyway, the last one said definitively, "He will need two stitches. We'll have to sedate him first, by the way he's acting." meaning, my poor honey-bunny was tired of being man-handled. Chandaneswar prabhu started inquiring and scolding as soon as they left, "How did this happen? How many times have I told you to be careful? Where were you(me), how come you didn't see him? This is what happens when you play rough." "Oh God, kill me before I kill my husband." I prayed. I was in agonizing pain with a frightened child, now in tears, from his daddy's chastisements and about to fly into a murderous rage. After an exchange of words and sticking up for Krishna Chandra, I needed to use the ladies room so I excused myself and left for a minute. When I came back we were ready to be moved, yet again to another triage. We arrived and waited to be seen again; Krishna Chandra wouldn't even sit on the exam chair, which was really just a rocking arm-chair. The nurse, highly understanding and tolerant said, "It's okay, I'll call the doctor so we can take a look at him at the same time. It'll be just one quick look then you guys can go, I think he's had enough." She led us to a room and I overheard her say, "Can you get Dr. Patel in here?" Oh Krishna, no, not an Indian doctor, not some needle-happy weirdo. I hate Indian doctors with few exceptions. We waited for Dr. Patel to arrive, at this point we had to restrain poor honey-bunny, his mind racing from the sight of sterile tubing and strange gizmos everywhere. We managed to hold him down, somehow, and the doctor had a gander, "Oh, it's nothing. You can go home." and he released the poor kid, then offering him a Popsicle. He then explained that the human mouth is an amazing thing, how, the frenulum folds down on itself and will heal without any kind of suturing. All this time and energy, I realised, wasted just running around from one wing of the hospital to the next, seeing one nurse after another; finally, we get to go home. Why wouldn't they just look at him nicely in the beginning and send us home. Instead I had to tolerate excruciating pain, hysterical husband and a frightened honey-bunny. It's lucky I didn't snap and strangle my husband out of rage because then I would have to depend on honey-bunny for a murder alibi and after all he'd already been though.
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