One has lived in this weird world long enough to say that one has seen or heard of all kinds of deviant behaviour. Nothing is so deviant that you are shocked by something, actually anything. Having spent the best part of one's life in corporate world, one can also feel that very little remains to be seen of devious people. Such characters seem to be inevitable fixtures in the lives of most people, like villains in the movies. While one has taken all the above in the stride with the philosophical outlook that it is all part of life, something physically deviant has spooked me from unexpected quarters in the past few years. A small bone which should normally have grown straight, has decided to take a short, side trip on its own volition, without any provocation from anyone and thereby hangs this tale.
Initially, about 5 years ago, when I suddenly and repeatedly woke up in the middle of the night after seemingly having slept like a veritable log for hours, I wondered why! There was no apparent change in anything around me (it was the same wife and same paraphernalia) and I could not figure out what prompted me to wake up time and again with a start. After a few months of monitoring and analysis (it was tough, because I was too groggy with sleep to instantly shift to `research' mode to identify the causes till the next morning, by when amnesia had set in and I had almost forgotten everything related to the nocturnal episode; anyway, my colleagues never set too much store by my analytical skills even when I was in mid-season form), it dawned on me that whenever I woke up there was one constant - my left nostril was fully jammed up and completely closed for all incremental traffic. Pretty much like any Indian road junction during peak hours, wherein everyone from all the four directions have converged as if by invitation for a free lunch and no one could make out who is going in which direction! Once I had consciously shifted from horizontality to perpendicularity and retained the latter position for a few minutes, status-quo-ante was mercifully restored inasmuchas the plumbing inside the nostril seemed to work a bit and I happily went back to sleep. But as days passed, the frequency of the nightly disruptions increased manifold and I spent more time in trying to sleep rather than actually sleeping! Then someone helpfully suggested it could be `sleep apnea' (very low breathing due to some block in the respiratory system), with a cheery foot-note that it could be fatal in one-in-a-million cases. This blessed individual was directly looking at me in the eye when all this was pronounced, making it dispassionately clear what his expectation, nay, hope was! Now, whenever something like this is mentioned you always believe you are the chosen one, even without any provocation!! Intuitive perception does not work as well when you are buying a lottery ticket, even if statistically you have a better than an one-in-a-million chance! So, I ran to the doctor even though there was no perceptible impact on me during the daytime - I was looking as sleepy as I have always been, before this affliction messed me up, people swore.
`Deviated Septum' (DS)!, the doc enthusiastically pronounced. Looked like this fella - not the doctor, let me clarify, but the bone - could not even cover a few inches of ground without making a small detour to the right to sniff around a bit to see if he can have a pow-wow with the neighbours. The result was that the already constrained space inside the nose, reserved for breathing, got further constricted to the point breath threw up its hands and indifferently withdrew! And this sudden change in my breathing pattern woke me up. `Not sleep apnea', the doc said and I was so relieved that I was not going to be that powerless pawn in the deadly one-in-a-million game! Till this point in time, I had never gone to a doctor for anything more serious than a twinge in the shoulder or elbow due to excessive tennis or cricket or whatever. But now began my travails. There are about 20 different concoctions inside small spray bottles which `could probably work in about 1% of the DS cases to give some 10% relief'. But as one can divine, the catch is that doctors generally do not know which works for whom. So, my doc began a well practiced regimen of trial and error (more error, so the trial seems interminable) to see if he can eventually match one spray and my internal mechanism. In this process I spent a fortune in buying medicines which I never fully used, because somehow half way through the doctor decided that specific spray and I were not made for each other. All this, while I was sleeping less and less.
After the doctor was satisfied that I had exceeded the target in terms of spending money on half-used-sprays, he told me `let us go the surgery route'. He did not sound like there was any alternative, so I submissively lay down on the table, while he sharpened the tools of his trade. He said `you can enjoy the Bombay Jayashree CD you like while I saw off a bit of the bone. You are being given only local anesthesia'. After a bit, I could hear only the sound of the saw on the bone and the cheerful banter of those around the operating table, nothing of Bombay Jayashree!! After a few days with a bloody nose and heavy breathing through the mouth, I was pleasantly surprised to note that the left nostril had regained its ability to breath even during nights. That lasted all of 18 months, when my ego-bruised DS decided to demonstrate that it had a mind and life of its own. Like any corporate entity facing serious financial difficulties, it changed its own structure a bit and blocked my nostril all over again!! I have since graduated to general anesthesia during the next surgery, with the assurance that the solution is permanent. I must admit things are better now, but far from perfect. For some reason, DS becomes less aggressive after 2 am in the morning and lets me sleep for about 5 hours and I am grateful for that small mercy!! But I must concede that DS seems unconquerable in spirit, despite all the promises held out by the doctors. Made of sterner stuff, DS is.
Very funny this - when I was a year old, I had a serious illness, with very high temperature and the doctor had almost given me up, when news trickled in from our native village that my paternal grandfather got suddenly ill and passed away within a few hours. Miraculously, I recovered (don't sigh, thats fate - who would have written all these blogposts, think!) to go through life, eventually with DS. Why am I saying this now?......my grandfather's name was, take a deep breath, Desikar Sadagopachariar; that is, DS for short. Has he returned to be with me for a while at this stage of my life, reminding me of what I owe him?? May be! I shouldn't and don't mind at all. Thank you, DS.
Initially, about 5 years ago, when I suddenly and repeatedly woke up in the middle of the night after seemingly having slept like a veritable log for hours, I wondered why! There was no apparent change in anything around me (it was the same wife and same paraphernalia) and I could not figure out what prompted me to wake up time and again with a start. After a few months of monitoring and analysis (it was tough, because I was too groggy with sleep to instantly shift to `research' mode to identify the causes till the next morning, by when amnesia had set in and I had almost forgotten everything related to the nocturnal episode; anyway, my colleagues never set too much store by my analytical skills even when I was in mid-season form), it dawned on me that whenever I woke up there was one constant - my left nostril was fully jammed up and completely closed for all incremental traffic. Pretty much like any Indian road junction during peak hours, wherein everyone from all the four directions have converged as if by invitation for a free lunch and no one could make out who is going in which direction! Once I had consciously shifted from horizontality to perpendicularity and retained the latter position for a few minutes, status-quo-ante was mercifully restored inasmuchas the plumbing inside the nostril seemed to work a bit and I happily went back to sleep. But as days passed, the frequency of the nightly disruptions increased manifold and I spent more time in trying to sleep rather than actually sleeping! Then someone helpfully suggested it could be `sleep apnea' (very low breathing due to some block in the respiratory system), with a cheery foot-note that it could be fatal in one-in-a-million cases. This blessed individual was directly looking at me in the eye when all this was pronounced, making it dispassionately clear what his expectation, nay, hope was! Now, whenever something like this is mentioned you always believe you are the chosen one, even without any provocation!! Intuitive perception does not work as well when you are buying a lottery ticket, even if statistically you have a better than an one-in-a-million chance! So, I ran to the doctor even though there was no perceptible impact on me during the daytime - I was looking as sleepy as I have always been, before this affliction messed me up, people swore.
`Deviated Septum' (DS)!, the doc enthusiastically pronounced. Looked like this fella - not the doctor, let me clarify, but the bone - could not even cover a few inches of ground without making a small detour to the right to sniff around a bit to see if he can have a pow-wow with the neighbours. The result was that the already constrained space inside the nose, reserved for breathing, got further constricted to the point breath threw up its hands and indifferently withdrew! And this sudden change in my breathing pattern woke me up. `Not sleep apnea', the doc said and I was so relieved that I was not going to be that powerless pawn in the deadly one-in-a-million game! Till this point in time, I had never gone to a doctor for anything more serious than a twinge in the shoulder or elbow due to excessive tennis or cricket or whatever. But now began my travails. There are about 20 different concoctions inside small spray bottles which `could probably work in about 1% of the DS cases to give some 10% relief'. But as one can divine, the catch is that doctors generally do not know which works for whom. So, my doc began a well practiced regimen of trial and error (more error, so the trial seems interminable) to see if he can eventually match one spray and my internal mechanism. In this process I spent a fortune in buying medicines which I never fully used, because somehow half way through the doctor decided that specific spray and I were not made for each other. All this, while I was sleeping less and less.
After the doctor was satisfied that I had exceeded the target in terms of spending money on half-used-sprays, he told me `let us go the surgery route'. He did not sound like there was any alternative, so I submissively lay down on the table, while he sharpened the tools of his trade. He said `you can enjoy the Bombay Jayashree CD you like while I saw off a bit of the bone. You are being given only local anesthesia'. After a bit, I could hear only the sound of the saw on the bone and the cheerful banter of those around the operating table, nothing of Bombay Jayashree!! After a few days with a bloody nose and heavy breathing through the mouth, I was pleasantly surprised to note that the left nostril had regained its ability to breath even during nights. That lasted all of 18 months, when my ego-bruised DS decided to demonstrate that it had a mind and life of its own. Like any corporate entity facing serious financial difficulties, it changed its own structure a bit and blocked my nostril all over again!! I have since graduated to general anesthesia during the next surgery, with the assurance that the solution is permanent. I must admit things are better now, but far from perfect. For some reason, DS becomes less aggressive after 2 am in the morning and lets me sleep for about 5 hours and I am grateful for that small mercy!! But I must concede that DS seems unconquerable in spirit, despite all the promises held out by the doctors. Made of sterner stuff, DS is.
Very funny this - when I was a year old, I had a serious illness, with very high temperature and the doctor had almost given me up, when news trickled in from our native village that my paternal grandfather got suddenly ill and passed away within a few hours. Miraculously, I recovered (don't sigh, thats fate - who would have written all these blogposts, think!) to go through life, eventually with DS. Why am I saying this now?......my grandfather's name was, take a deep breath, Desikar Sadagopachariar; that is, DS for short. Has he returned to be with me for a while at this stage of my life, reminding me of what I owe him?? May be! I shouldn't and don't mind at all. Thank you, DS.
3 comments:
Fantastic post Varad-san!
Wow, you are able to make a great story with DS.
regards,
madhu
ps: I did have that some time back.
Now a days, I say, DS is not a bug but a feature :-)
Most enjoyable. A deviated septum is the direct consequence, I'm convinced, of the Tamil obsession with centum at school, nose to the grind and all that.
Excellent and enjoyable. At one stroke, you have to thank DS and curse DS too !
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