I mentioned previously that I had a fall when I was in Turkistan and when I came back and following advice from the in-house doctor, I went to the Emergency Department of Gleneagles Hospital and did an X-ray. I was informed that I had actually broken my wrist and that the bone was healing but that I should return in a fortnight and see a hand doctor. So I reluctantly rang Gleneagles and asked the person who took my call if he could help schedule an appointment for me with any hand doctor who was available on the following Friday morning. Alhamdulillah, he managed to accommodate my request. When I met the doctor, he told me that while my bone had healed, it was malunion i.e., not set in properly. He asked me to come and do a CT scan which I did the following Thursday. The CT scan showed the fracture was worse than is shown on X-ray and even my usual therapist who at first said it might be cured by physiotherapy instead of surgery said the injury looked serious from the CT scan so I quickly messaged the hand clinic informing I’d do the surgery and even messaged the doctor the same.
The clinic
came back with surgery date and I took it as a sign that Allah meant me to have
the surgery. It was rescheduled to two days later (28 June) as the doctor was
not well and I even included his health in my prayers. The day came and my
nephew came to send me to the hospital. I had to start fasting from 09:00.
After a bit of a wait and processing at Admissions, I was brought to my room. I
was dismayed to find I had to share the room but was informed that the wards
were full. At first I thought of doing the surgery when my sister was back from
Haj but then decided not to delay as it would mean my recovery time would also
be deferred.
After
unpacking, I sat down to rest. One nurse came to give me anti-nausea and
gastritis pills. I then performed prayers and ablutions again. The nurses came
to give me a hospital gown and a pair of disposable knickers. I had to remove
my watches and jewellery (I didn’t know this!) and was wheeled out just before
15:30 to the anaesthetic department. It was noisy there and yet somehow I dozed
off on and off. Finally, they wheeled me into the operating theatre. They
transferred me from the hospital bed onto the surgery bed or whatever it’s
called. The staff then searched for a vein and the anaesthetist then put me to
sleep. Just before I lost consciousness, I looked at the wall clock right in
front of me and saw it was 16:00.
I fell into a
dreamless sleep and next thing I knew, I heard someone calling out my name a
few times before I opened my eyes. It was 20:00 then. I was wheeled out at
20:40 back to my room. I was feeling groggy and weak and later in the night had
help to drink a few sips of water. The inconsiderate next-bed neighbour had her
TV turned on throughout the night but thankfully I was out of it.
A nurse came
just before 05:00 the following morning and helped me up. I held on to her as
we walked to the bathroom where I changed clothes as there was blood on my
gown. After cleaning myself, I went back to bed and performed prayers before
dozing off again. I rested the whole day and managed to walk up to level 5 for
X-ray. The anaesthetist came for a quick visit then my doctor came too. I was
happy to find I had a good appetite throughout my stay haha.
The doctor
came again on Sunday and he waited while I performed prayers. He looked at the
stitches and told me to do some exercise. I had to wait for him to write up my
discharge note. I then went to the payment area at Block A, met my niece there,
back to my ward and then back again to the pharmacy at the Emergency Department
for my medication. I was given fourteen days’ medical leave (which was then
extended as the doctor wasn’t happy with my progress). Upon doctor’s
insistence, I decided to go for physiotherapy at the hospital. Strangely
enough, the pain actually intensified after the physiotherapy and I keep
getting up just before 03:00. Once I even slept talk and cried myself awake
from the pain.
I’m still
thankful that it happened to my left wrist and not my right, that it happened
to my wrist and not my legs or hips, that I could still function and perform
light household chores with one good hand, and that I could manage on my own
post-surgery.
So there you go, my story of a careless moment that now has me whimpering every now and then. Like a mate said, it’s all preordained and already written. We just have to look at the positive aspects, learn from it, and find the strength and courage to endure the test.
