• Pallavi Rao

The Miracleme Story 09-Nahiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii!


I was screaming my gut out. Hoping it would reach someone atleast. Somebody would come to my rescue.

I was on the bed. And four hands were groping me. Pulling at my sweat shirt. Pulling at my tracks.

I was shouting and crying at the same time. I can never forget the expressions on the faces of those two as they literally tore me away from my clothes.

I haven’t told this incident to many. How could I? It was shameful.

But today I am.

That evening. That unforgettable evening.

I was running a fever of 101 constantly. Amma and Daddy and Bhaiya could do nothing about it. As always I refused to pop in a tablet or visit the doctor.

My sister Swati was home. And so was my soul buddy Laboni.

I have no clue why destiny had sent two Chandalikas to my place that evening.

Amma on the verge of tears, unable to see her daughter with such high fever, requested the two girls to put some sense into me and show myself to the doctor.

‘Are you mad? Fever shall come down on its own in 3 days”, I argued.

But these two would hear nothing of it. They requested, cajoled and coaxed me in a 100 ways to agree and visit Dr. Smita Koche, our family doctor. I refused point blank.

And that is when, they got physical with me. They literally took my clothes off, made me wear fresh ones and dragged me to the dispensary where I was given big fat pills and capsules for 3 days.

I came home with them as if I had lost a battle.

Nope, I did not complete the antibiotic dose. It was horrible popping those pills.

Ok, so now that the beans are spilling let me spill some more.

I did not know how to swallow pills. Well, yes. Some people don’t know. Big deal.

FLASHBACK to when I was in class 7 or 8.

Malaria if you please, is what I had. Dad once again tried to give me my dose of medicines. Crocin was it?

I had super high fever and refusing to have the tablet. He was under tension because the house was being painted and he was to get stuff done and here I was creating a ruckus.

Poor guy, he did everything he could to have me take that medicine.

  • He tried to give to me as it is. I refused.

  • He powdered it and gave it to me with a glass of water. I made a face.

  • He powdered it and added sugar in that tsp. I almost puked.

Bhaiya and Amma stood next to my bed in tension since my patient father was losing it with this patient. Eventually, I howled and cried and asked everyone to leave the room with the promise that I would have it.

Somehow, Bhaiya managed to take them all out. I promptly, poured out the white powder-sugar paste behind the other bed, asked them to come back to the room and showed them the empty katori (bowl).

The next morning when they all saw what I had done, well...yes...you get the picture. So...here I am saying Sorry Daddy for that day!!!!

Another time, another fever, my Chaacha (Paternal Uncle) was specially called for mission medicine. He was a clever man. He gently came to me offering a half peeled banana. I was cleverer. I found the capsule he had carefully inserted at the top of the banana and covered it as naturally as he could.

Banana mein Crocin? Bahut nainsaafi hai!

Alas! Mission failed.


I was back home.

The steroids were taking effect. The slur was disappearing. The smile seemed perked up. Voice no longer went into a nasal one. I was able to play with our son Rian.

Rian Rao Narvekar. Yes, finally he had a decent name to himself, after all the others we called him, from Kundru to Gajar, Mooli, Piplu, Bachchu, Bachchada.

It was also time for his Anna Prashan. Bhaiya, being the Maamu was to do the needful. A small ceremony at the peak of winters and the first payasam was fed to the baby who slurped it all up, asking for more.

I had started to gain weight. My cheeks were filling up. It seemed as if I always had either toffees or golgappas in my mouth. They were so filled up.

Bags had started to show under the eyes both because of the baby giving some sleepless nights and the side effects of steroids.

Things still seemed to go fine till one day in mid-November, the slur came back with a bang. The left eye drooped and closed as if it were the heavy curtains of a cinema hall. It would just shut down.You know, just shut down!!!!

Wish I had clicked photos of that woman pirate then!!!!

On my best friend, the google queen, my 2 am buddy, my sounding board, Shalaka Paradkar’s suggestion, I was now part of a ‘support group’ of Myasthenia Gravis patients from across the globe. Yes, it did help initially but frankly, it started pulling me down and making me feel depressed reading sordid tales of others. I was soon to quit the support group.

Steroids dosage increased as also Myestin and kept increasing till it could be increased no more. I was started on 5 mg and now I had scored 80 mg a day. And Myestin every 2 hours through the day.

The two things I used to be shit scared of- Doctors and medicines! The Universal Power wanted me to overcome just that! Bwaaahh....

From throwing medicine mixtures behind furniture, I was now popping 30 and more pills a day

Lesson learnt.

As of today, I don’t have the patience to swallow 7 tablets one after the other. So I pop in 3 at a time and one on its own.

To add some excitement into the mundane task, I use different permutations and combinations. I have them one day -size wise, another day - colour wise. What fun!!! Added to them are my nutrient capsules and powders that too go in the same manner.

I am a pro now. Yo!


It was close to Christmas. Dr. Suri, eventually decided on the next step. A CT-SCAN was advised, which we promptly got done at Apollo itself.

It was the first time I got any scan done. I was petrified of the machine, which till now I had seen only in movies associated with tragic endings.

I lay under the scanner. The talk-back mike from which they give instructions of breathing in and out- holding breath, was still on. I did not have to overhear them say Thymoma" I had heard the word from Dr. Suri.

Myasthenia Gravis may or may not be accompanied by Thymoma.

Thymoma is common in MG patients, but appears to be found more often in male MG patients and those older than 40 years at the onset of MG

Bhaiya sat outside with baited breath.

Rahul was on his way.

Thymoma is reportedly found in 10-30% of patients with myasthenia gravis (MG)

In my case it was.

My neurologist, met us again with the verdict.

The Thymus gland had to be removed.


A major one.

Sorry? Who was he talking about? Me? Nah, not me. I felt a bit faint. And the knees felt wobbly and the hands felt sweaty. No, no, surgery can’t be happening to me!

He went on, how not necessarily immediately, but it should be soon.

My first question was after some composure.

“Doctor, when would I be able to go back on air?”

He said, “soon, but post-surgery.”

I remember, we had this conversation outside one of the wards where he was on rounds. He once again made a diagram of the Thymus gland and explained. It was going over my head.

He asked us to meet the surgeon to discuss the surgery details.

Surgeon? Mind it. I had graduated from meeting doctors to surgeons.

We went to another floor, another room. As we entered, we recognized the surgeon.

Soft hands, gentle eyes, black specs, hands clasped at the back.

Dr. Bhaba Das, Cardiothoracic & Vascular surgeon.

Those tender and gentle artistic hands were soon to open my sternum and take the Goddammit Thymus gland out. I was in safe hands.

I was in fact, looking forward to the surgery now, soon after which I would be back where I belonged-ON-AIR.


The surgery date was to be decided by us. And we decided it to be the 5th of January, Thursday.

Thursday being my God’s day!!!!

But, why the 5th of January, 2006?

Because, before that we had an impending task at hand...


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