When I read this week's prompt Hospital for Sunday Scribblings, I kind of went numb. I almost did not want to write for it.
The first time I was in any hospital was the day I was born. The most important day of my life and I do not remember anything about it. I might have gone back there for various shots. I still do not recollect.
I think I was around three years old when my dad was admitted into a hospital when he went into a coma after bleeding internally due to a peptic ulcer. My brothers were 10, 9 and 2 years at that time. With all four kids under 10, my mom having no support system, most of the time all of us were in the hospital huddling together. I remember my older two brothers putting up brave fronts and stoically taking care of my younger brother and me while my mom had to run around for the doctors etc. I can still smell the disinfectant, which I hated at that time. I did not understand that my dad was serious. I do not recall my mom breaking down. She had no time to think. However, my dad recovered fully and that was the end of it.
After 28 years in 1999, his ulcer erupted yet again and he was back in hospital. My brothers rallied around with me. The doctors were not very optimistic about him. Somehow, we did not lose hope. Moreover, this time we took care of him taking turns to watch over dad. Mom, as usual was a pillar of strength. My dad did get well and was back home.
In May 2002, my dad fell down and fractured his hipbone. He did undergo a surgery for that. When he came out of the anaesthesia, he was in a good mood. For two days, he joked around and looked forward to get back home. Suddenly something went wrong, and he was in a coma. Three days after that, he was gone forever.
I have been in and out of hospitals in between and afterwards too for various reasons. I do not have much recollection about those dates and years. Hospital reminds me of only these three instances involving my dad.