Vertigo

"Hey Keshab..get up man. Nothing's happened to you. Come, I shall lead you to the car. Lean on me."

I remembered Michael Bolton. I remember in school, Abraham Botoking had sung the song to perfection.

The world was spinning. I was spinning. It was like entering a vortex that seemed to draw me into its core. I felt nauseaous. I retched again.

I faintly remembered a comforting hand on my face while I lay on the couch, coiling up to the spasms of nausea. One hand on my cheek another rubbing my back. I wish I had looked then to see who it was. It was a really kind hand. I remembered a gathering of solemn colleagues murmuring on the best course of action. I recognized the voices. I could feel their concern. I retched again.

"Would you like to drink some tender coconut water?"

Oh no. They thought it was food poisoning.

"I think he fell down."

'Ouch!" someone gasped.

"Did you have brekfast Keshab? What did you have."

I could hardly speak. But I said, "bread toast with butter and tea."

There was again a murmur. They were now discussing whether the butter could be bad. Or maybe the bread.

"Not Keshab. He keeps fresh stuff."

I must remember to give that person a treat.

"I thought he vomited blood in the bathroom."

I remembered calling him from the bathroom through my cell phone. He had come and helped me out of there. I could not keep my balance. I was terribly ill. I thought of my will. What if the time had come? I had not even prepared my will. I could kick myself for not taking care of these matters. I made a mental note of making my will if I survived.

"Keshab, do you need an ambulance?"

There started at that point a discussion on the best possible place to take me to.

"Sagar Apollo will be costly. Ramkrishna nursing home is better."

"He might have to be hospitalized. Take him to Wockhardt."

"He won't be hospitalized. They will just give an injection and he will be all right."

I was wheeled into the OPD of Sagar Apollo. I was made to lie down on the bed. That felt good. At once a group of doctors and nurses pounced upon me. They took an ECG, blood sample and gave me an injection. All at once and simultaneously. After about five minutes of all that, they removed all the attachments on my chest and hands and asked me to rest. The consulting physician came. Someone was running him through my readings. "Pulse 79, BP 148 by 90. ECG normal. Patient is vomiting."

The physician did his checks. The colleagues who had come with me gathered round him.

"Vertigo", the doctor annouced.

"Is this a clinical condition. Is something wrong?"

"It could happen to anyone. You. Me. It could be because of suffocation, claustrophobia, irritation from cigarette smoke."

"But I don't smoke in the office."

I made a mental note to tell him it was not his fault. How silly!

I fell into a slumber. It was deep and soothing. "The injection..." I thought.

I returned to office a day after.

"Keshab! How are you dear? We were so worried."

"How are you? Whatever happened?"

"We better be careful. He just might get Vertigo again."

"I thought that was some Alfred Hitchcock movie."

"Yes it is."

"Cool!"