Posing after successful completion of surgery
The small wee hours of the ninth of the February—and
we hear death news of former Prime Minister Mr. Sushil Koirala. Before I pray
for the peaceful journey of his soul to the Elysium, it is high time that I
said how we met in person all but by the fluke of the fate. There are these
afflictions in the eyes called cataract when you grow old, and that’s exactly
when circumstances conspired him visiting us in course of the treatment for
this particular ailment existing in his eyes.
30th September 2015 and clear blue sky;
late noon—informal message all on the floor that the visit of premier has been
confirmed. All members of the hospital were simply astonished when a group of
expert-looking guys in plainclothes rummaged and inquired about the room to be
used for the Prime Minister’s eye examination. Gosh! This was happening and
happening very real, this time.
The time was critical and provided for the ongoing
agitation in the south, the information about the incumbent prime minister’s
health issues were meant to be secretive. As time passed journalists flocked to
ask when he was coming. My fellow man told, “you tell us when, as a journalist
aren’t you supposed to tell everybody?” Moments later, I retorted, “we are
given the information that he is to reach here not before 4PM, that’s all.” As
the clock hit 4, there was still no sign of horns blaring and sirens whirring.
I doled out copies of the paper slip in which was written about the cataract
and mode of surgery prime minister was to undergo. Well, a gentle reminder:
cataract is when there is opacity in the lens of the eye and the affected
person experience blurred vision. One national news correspondent made a
telephone call to the chief district office and was told there was no
information about any VIP visit, that day, so far. Few journalists took off
their ways gesturing as if that was a prank.
Picture Courtesy: Sunil Pokhrel
from Left: Late Sushil Koirala, Prof. Sagun Joshi, the author and Shashank Koirala
Quarter past six: It was getting darker and colder.
All of a sudden, the calm and composed ambience turned rather tempestuous when
a column of vehicles trundled –whistling and honking –to park. Quite a while
before he got down from the car, accompanied by Dr. Shashank Koirala and
assisted by Atul Koirala, the security personnel flanked him. Reiyukai Eye
Hospital family was waiting in file to welcome Mr. Koirala, wearing smiles in
face, holding floral garlands on hand. With the final greet by Dr. Sagun Joshi,
our team leader and my mentor, we headed for his vision test and power
test—refraction we call it. There was exchange of usual pleasantries followed
by itsy-bitsy chit-chat, quest of case history and examination. To my dismay,
his vision was too poor—a normal person could see the letter 60 meters across
which Sushil Koirala would only see from 6 meters. Isn’t it surprising for the
visual acuity of a prime minister? Well, he used to take help from others while
having to work with small prints in dim lights. I measured the power of his
glasses, refracted his eyes. He was then taken to another room for eye examination.
Dr. Sagun and Dr. Shashank collaboratively advised for the right eye cataract
surgery. After that came again my part: I was to do biometry—a procedure to
determine the power of the lens to be implanted into his eye during surgery.
Dr. Sagun and the author, in process for Biometry
Picture Courtesy: Sunil Pokhrel
As the door was opened, I nearly passed out seeing the
swarm of people all around. From that door to the door of the dark room, it was
like a never-ending journey. People jostled and elbowed against each other to
move forward and cross the human wall of security trying to introduce them,
pronouncing shibboleth of Jay Nepal or snapping photographs. Across distance
were people tiptoeing only to catch a glimpse of PM’s face. I imagined: Oh
Almighty! This man is currently the most important and powerful person in the
whole nation Nepal. It seemed as if not a single district-level dignitary was
missing. My mouth was dry and my ears were scarlet red.
As I instilled eye drops on his eye, bizarre thinking
conjured up in my mind. Should by any chance there is even a small error in my
power calculation, his eye would be blurry; meaning—the whole country will
suffer. He was such a nonchalant person and so when I tried to place the probe
at the front part of his right eye, my hand tremor of nervousness was even more
conspicuous. He didn’t speak a word until finally my hand shook as if there was
8 Richter earthquakes, and he blabbered, “Your hand is shaking more than mine.”
Possessed with pale skin and relatively sallow physique, this formidable man
was crippling me. He eased me down, Sagun sir comforted and I gathered breaths
to grapple my task done. On that course to hold back the tremor, I asked what
his age was. He gave me a creepy ogle that I inhaled a jet of air. Holy
cow! I must have already known the age of the prime minister of Nepal who was
visiting us! I was assured that must have been the stupidest question he had
ever heard all during his premiership. He then ended the awkward silence and my
melancholy signaling towards his aide-de-camp, “how much?” Nothing came back in
return. “Umm, must be above 70,” he murmured again. “Yes be it 70 for now,” his
assistant reconfirmed.
Later when he came out of the operation theater he was
apprising that he didn’t notice any pain or discomfort during the surgery and
that it was exactly like the one (phaco-emulsification surgery) he had heard
about in BBC news a long time back. In six minutes he came out of the same door
he went with impaired vision, only that this time he could see the surprises
and confusions in the face of the people waiting in the lobby who were
pondering if the surgery was cancelled. It was because there was not anything
difference for any onlooker before going in and coming out.
The intra-ocular lens that was implanted in his right
eye on the 30th of September helped him for a week more than four
full months. We could have been more grateful should he came for the treatment
earlier so that he could have seen the world better for longer period. Rest in
peace!
This article appears in print of The Himalayan Times, dated February 11, 2016.
Click here to get to the online version.
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