05/09/2024 Project Management

May 09, 2024

I am usually not this narcissistic, but this post I am about to type should be interesting, ;). There's so much of pre and post comparison to do that one could turn my surgery experience into graduate thesis in itself! Do I type faster now with less brain mass? Do I sound more witty than before? Do I simply sound more obnoxiously self-absorbed? I guess if you are still reading, you can find out along with me!

I will have to start where I last stopped- when I arrived at the hospital wearing a sari, no less. I remember changing into scrubs, talking to the anesthesiologist and the surgeon, and saying bye to Bhaskar and Preethy. That's about it. That was like 10am Tuesday, April 30th. The earliest recollection I have, after that, is from 10pm that night; of me typing something on my phone with restrained hands to my colleague, attempting to make a dark work joke about my being in requal. Intel and Qorvo people will get the humor.

Wait, restrained hands? Why yes! It wasn't just my imagination. Apparently the pain was expected to be bad enough for the subject to want to randomly scratch the incisions- plural, pull the tubes hanging out of the brain or the IVs dangling from the various inconvenient parts of my arms.

I remember screaming in pain and the ICU nurse chiding me. There were other patients in the unit, in more critical condition than me, that were being traumatized by my screams. That was unfathomable to me- how could there be more pain- to anyone- than the one I was experiencing at that moment? I remember Lord Srirama, who had an uncanny resemblance to Dr. Pankaj Gore, telling me how humans weren't equipped to tolerate the kind of pain I had at that moment, and how He was going to hold my hand and walk me to the safety of the other side. I remember praying. I remember surrendering. I remember chanting His name, during every IV flush and blood draw, during every Iodine wipe, and after each and every staple and stitch.

I remember coming up to speed on my own health from reading Bhaskar's updates in third person. He and Preethy were rationing my screen time, thinking that I would go on social media to be aimlessly nosy about others' lives, whereas I was simply trying to know about my own life, :)

I remember the visits from friends, cousins, and Raaga. I remember calling Taara. I remember talking to my sister. I remember wanting to talk to my parents. I remember crying uncontrollably. I remember my head exploding in pain whenever I cried. I remember reminding myself that even this pain was better than the one I would get from IV infusions if I kept complaining, and shutting up.

I remember the little victories that came along the way- of my urinating on my own instead of the catheter, of my looking at myself in the mirror in horror and only barely passing out, of my remaining alive after they pulled the drain tubes, sand-papered the drain holes on my scalp and stitched them shut all with just a little spray of lidocaine, of my drinking gallons of prune juice for the desired effect four days later, of my showering, of my walking, of my donning the sari on my way home to hug the two most beautiful girls waiting for me.

I may have missed a detail or two, but I don't remember a whole lot more from the hospital stay. All I know is that I am now in project management mode. It is project pain. I am the manager. I need to understand it, make a road map for reducing it,and make sure I stick to the plan, incorporating changes where needed.

My brain is on a sensory overdrive at the moment. I hear things many decibels louder than normal. I smell the onion being cut on the floor below me. I get dizzy when I see the sun through the window. However, my body is physically going in slow-motion: I speak very slowly (and quietly, of course). I take 5min to get off the bed and walk to the restroom. I get exhausted after climbing down the stairs or shampooing my hair. My attention span for any conversation is 15min, after which, I need a 45min nap.

Understanding these limitations about my current self is a big part of this project management I have embarked on. Bhaskar and Preethy were very protective of me in the hospital, and did not let me see any pictures of my incision or stitches. I felt differently. I insisted on seeing what it looked like. The incisions, staples and scars are part of who I am now. I am not going to project manage the heck out of my pain unless I get intimate with what it is that I am trying to heal. It may not be for the faintest of heart. This is project pain for crying out loud, and I will be the champion- as long as you all keep rooting for me, like you have always been!