Representative image of a road accident.
Credit: iStock Photo
Accidents are not intentional. Obviously, nobody invites trouble, knowing full well that it ends up in pain, wretchedness, and grief. Recently, I met with an accident: I slipped in the bathroom and injured my wrist. The very next moment, my hand inflated fourfold, and the pain was unbearable. Adding to my woes was the time: this happened at my niece’s marriage in Salem. The marriage hall was full of my close relatives, friends, and other guests.
As soon as they heard I was injured, they started pouring in to inquire about my well-being. The pain was unfathomable; as a result, I was sweating profusely, creating further panic. Then a flood of suggestions and advice started. Some said this must be multiple fractures. Others were more optimistic, concluding it to be just a sprain. Likewise, several people diagnosed my condition, each with their own experience and knowledge. Suggestions were in umpteen, but solutions none.
Then my brother-in-law, a practicing lawyer in Salem with a wide social network, jumped out from amidst the pool of guests, seeming to me like a hero of a Hindi film with a definite solution, and took me to a practicing orthopaedic doctor from Puttur. I was sceptical, but I abided by his confidence in the doctor and followed. At first appearance, I thought the doctor to be a quack when I saw him in dhoti and net banian. He made me sit comfortably on a chair and pulled my wrist. I screamed on top of my voice, and I thought my wrist was dismembered from my hand to repair it and refit. When he pressed the joint with his thumb again, I realised the hand was still intact. After a course of this procedure, he applied some grinded leaves with turmeric and egg white and wrapped the hand with a cloth bandage.
As the ‘operation’ concluded, I heaved a sigh of relief.
What followed was worse. Facing people with the bandage was an experience by itself. Every person I met had a suggestion and a slew of queries. The most common of the questions was how it happened. Did they expect an ‘action replay?’. I couldn’t tell. But I said I slipped and fell in the bathroom. The next suggestion was, “You have to be careful! See who is suffering now?” Literally, I bit my tooth, swallowed hard, and smiled. Others declared these Puttur doctors to be quacks. “You shouldn’t have taken a risk. The best are allopathic orthopaedics for fast healing.”
The flow of suggestions and advice was unrelenting. By and by, my bandage had become an eyesore that people didn’t miss. It is as if I was showcasing my injury. How could I tell them that the wrist has several delicate, small joints, making it flexible and allowing them to move the hand in different ways? If injured, nature has a defence mechanism to heal, and the duration may depend on the type of injury. I switched to a wrist forearm splint to keep from wrong bending and jerking, as the doctor suggested, until I was confident enough to do away with it.
It was harder to bear the suggestions, questions, and looks than the wound itself. If only we learned to express our concern for others with empathy, love, and genuine care...