Story of my Tattoo
It was a lovely sunny day, on the morning of August 21, 2008. The day I will never forget. The day everyone would dread to live through. The day which gave me memories for life. The day which gifted me my permanent tattoo.
I was travelling with my favourite aunt with whom I have had fun times together. We luv each other’s company. We don’t leave a chance to meet each other. That fine morning, we had travelled to a place, which was 80 km from home, by bus. After we were done with our work, we found an auto to go to the bus stand. We were surprised at how huge and spacious the auto was, never realizing that we wouldn’t reach home that day. At a turn, our auto hit a Honda city (driven by a lady without a license) and it tumbled and fell sideways onto the side of the road. It all happened in less than a minute and the next thing I knew was that my whole right leg had turned numb and my aunt was lying on the ground outside. Then I saw the sight, which anyone would dread. There was a hole just below my knee through which I could see flesh, blood and white stuff (which I guessed were muscles) and my bone. Amazingly, I did not faint and was carried in another auto to a nearby government hospital. The minute I saw the place, I was crying , not because my leg hurt, but because I wanted someone to take me to a better hospital. There were 5 other injured people in the same room, all of whom were crying out for help. A nurse injected me with a drip and I saw a doc examining me and telling everyone how lucky I was that my bone was not affected.
Meanwhile, the lady whose car had hit us , was beside me and asking me for my parents’ number. She called them up and conveyed the story. They had arrived in India the day before- for our house warming function. At that moment, I was quite sad about spoiling the whole function.
I was taken to a hospital near my home the same night and little did I know that I will have to spend a whole month there. I made my parents promise to conduct the function as decided and allow me to attend it, whatsoever happens. They kept their word and I was one of the last guests to reach the place. I entered my brand new home on crutches (it was indeed a candid camera moment) and limped around and made sure that I sat and touched each piece of furniture at home.
I was returned back to the hospital, where my wound worsened and the doctors, after a long research, came to the conclusion that I will have to be operated twice on alternate days. My dream of attending my cousin sister’s wedding (for which I had bought the attire) crashed and I was devastated at the thought of having to go through surgery (that too, 2 of them).
The ironical part of the story was that earlier I used to be scared of a tiny meeny injection and never agreed with mom to get a shot whenever I was down with severe fever. However at the hospital, thanks to the indefinite pain in my leg, i used to wake up mom at odd hours, to call the nurse so that I could get a painkiller shot. The effect of the injection used to last only 4 hours. So every 4 hours, mom and the nurse were used to being woken up, without the help of an alarm.
After being discharged, I flew to b’lore on special privileges. I was driven to the plane and carried to the top of the flight on a wheelchair. Yummy food and special care and attention were part of the package. A few days later, I went to bid goodbye to my colleagues and collect my relieval letter, on crutches.
I had a lot of friends visiting me home and it was my hobby to show off my wound in order to get sympathy. The wound had healed a little and it turned out to be a scar that resembled a shark’s open mouth ;-)
This concludes the story of my tattoo. My tattoo for life.
I was travelling with my favourite aunt with whom I have had fun times together. We luv each other’s company. We don’t leave a chance to meet each other. That fine morning, we had travelled to a place, which was 80 km from home, by bus. After we were done with our work, we found an auto to go to the bus stand. We were surprised at how huge and spacious the auto was, never realizing that we wouldn’t reach home that day. At a turn, our auto hit a Honda city (driven by a lady without a license) and it tumbled and fell sideways onto the side of the road. It all happened in less than a minute and the next thing I knew was that my whole right leg had turned numb and my aunt was lying on the ground outside. Then I saw the sight, which anyone would dread. There was a hole just below my knee through which I could see flesh, blood and white stuff (which I guessed were muscles) and my bone. Amazingly, I did not faint and was carried in another auto to a nearby government hospital. The minute I saw the place, I was crying , not because my leg hurt, but because I wanted someone to take me to a better hospital. There were 5 other injured people in the same room, all of whom were crying out for help. A nurse injected me with a drip and I saw a doc examining me and telling everyone how lucky I was that my bone was not affected.
Meanwhile, the lady whose car had hit us , was beside me and asking me for my parents’ number. She called them up and conveyed the story. They had arrived in India the day before- for our house warming function. At that moment, I was quite sad about spoiling the whole function.
I was taken to a hospital near my home the same night and little did I know that I will have to spend a whole month there. I made my parents promise to conduct the function as decided and allow me to attend it, whatsoever happens. They kept their word and I was one of the last guests to reach the place. I entered my brand new home on crutches (it was indeed a candid camera moment) and limped around and made sure that I sat and touched each piece of furniture at home.
I was returned back to the hospital, where my wound worsened and the doctors, after a long research, came to the conclusion that I will have to be operated twice on alternate days. My dream of attending my cousin sister’s wedding (for which I had bought the attire) crashed and I was devastated at the thought of having to go through surgery (that too, 2 of them).
The ironical part of the story was that earlier I used to be scared of a tiny meeny injection and never agreed with mom to get a shot whenever I was down with severe fever. However at the hospital, thanks to the indefinite pain in my leg, i used to wake up mom at odd hours, to call the nurse so that I could get a painkiller shot. The effect of the injection used to last only 4 hours. So every 4 hours, mom and the nurse were used to being woken up, without the help of an alarm.
After being discharged, I flew to b’lore on special privileges. I was driven to the plane and carried to the top of the flight on a wheelchair. Yummy food and special care and attention were part of the package. A few days later, I went to bid goodbye to my colleagues and collect my relieval letter, on crutches.
I had a lot of friends visiting me home and it was my hobby to show off my wound in order to get sympathy. The wound had healed a little and it turned out to be a scar that resembled a shark’s open mouth ;-)
This concludes the story of my tattoo. My tattoo for life.
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