My First Time Under the Scissors
As I have mentioned before, the universe was playing its good old dirty tricks on me all year long. I kept on hanging on like someone clinging to a cliff edge, but that bastard (the universe) was not finished. He — or she, I don’t know — had more for me. So there I was, finally having some good times after a while, standing on a football turf, not realizing this moment was going to change everything.
Lying there under the hospital lights, waiting for my surgery, I kept thinking, How the hell did I end up here? Sometimes all it takes is one unlucky twist, one unlucky second, and suddenly you are just a body pushed around by some strangers in masks. The way they were moving me around made me feel so helpless and almost non-human, like a delivery package. I guess when you’re stripped of your basic human functions, it makes you feel small, helpless, and a little less human.
And when this “package” finally reached the operation theatre, it got hit with a giant reality check. Turns out the only miserable thing there was the package himself; everyone else was just joking around, casually prepping for another day, not worried about the broken package lying there. Even though I was drugged, I could still hear music playing during the surgery, and I was like damn — my cousin brother, who is a medical student, had told me about this before, but I never believed him.
And that’s when the package realized something painful.
You’re not a special package.
You’re just one of many — just another broken package.
And the only people who are ever going to care about you are the ones waiting at your home address. They were there for me in every moment during all this shit. The universe may not care, but they did. And somehow, that mattered more than everything else.
Anyway — sorry, I got ahead of myself. Let’s go back to the football turf. Back then, I didn’t realize that would be the last game I’d play for a long time. Even after injuring myself, I didn’t understand it. I was even happy for a while because the shot that got me injured was a goal. Thinking back… how stupid was that? Even after two weeks, I limped around thinking it would get better. It was also partially because my first hospital visit (yeah, a lot more is coming) didn’t really help and was honestly funny in a way.
The first hospital I went to was a government hospital — you know how it is — big crowds, long queues, busy staff running around. Don’t ask why I went there, maybe because it was close to my rental house. It took forever just to get an OP token. Then I rolled into the OP room on a wheelchair — my first time — and all I could think about were wheelchair memes, trying hard to hold my laughter.
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The doctor looked like a literal cartoon character with a bald head, thick mustache, and crooked smile. He immediately started roasting me: “You should have studied instead of playing around!” and laughed like the chief editor from Spider-Man. I had a couple of comebacks ready in my head, but out of respect for doctors, I zipped my mouth and smiled. Then he checked my leg for about a minute and told me it was all good. He even told me to walk back instead of using the wheelchair. Prescribed a couple of painkillers. And that’s it.
After two weeks, I finally realized it wasn’t a simple injury and went to another hospital and took an MRI scan. The result came after two days, and when I asked my father about it, the look on his face told me everything. Complete ligament tear, plus meniscus damage for bonus points. From there, it was hospital visits one after another.
But one thing was clear.
I needed surgery.
Because of exams and the long recovery time, it got delayed. My parents weren’t really interested in the idea of “tearing my leg open and putting titanium inside it,” so I tried Ayurvedic treatment for a while. Then I fell on the leg a second time — and that was the final sign. Living with a torn ligament was too risky. So the day my semester exams ended, I got admitted to the hospital for the surgery. And the next morning there I was, lying there in hospital gowns, ready to be cut like a turkey on Thanksgiving.
Two days later, I was discharged after long hours in the ICU and endless drip cycles. Now I’m sitting on my bed writing this short story, not entirely sure what I’m doing. But I did come out of this with new experiences. This was my first time being admitted to a hospital, and that anesthesia trip… damn. I’ve never experienced anything like that. I felt like Doctor Strange flying through dimensions. I saw things I’ve never seen before. It was like having a tiny taste of the devil.
Well, I survived through all these bumps in the road. I’ve still got some more to face — recovery being the hardest part. I have to train my leg again through physio exercises to gain back its function and strength. If the universe really “has a plan,” this year it felt like the plan was to bully me.
But in the end, I did get a long Christmas holiday
and a gift to carry home.
