Episode 322 : A heart full of holes

I had been carrying this condition for a while. I knew that I would soon have to do something about it. Somehow Leh beckoned, and I wanted to wait for a few more weeks.

I returned to Bangalore in the second half of September and got myself checked right away. At first the doctor refused to believe I have a problem. 'You all are hypochondriacs', he scoffed. But I insisted he examine me again. Much against his wishes, he had to admit he could have been wrong.

'When do you want to do this?' he asked.

'I am off to Ooty the coming weekend, how about after I return?' I asked.

'Should be fine, just don't strain yourself', he warned.

* * * * *

The club's tenth anniversary celebration beckoned. And I was meeting most of the boys after a long time. Most of them thought I had fallen off the face of the planet. 'Nothing new', I thought to myself.

Much against the doctor's warning, I took on Mysore Road with a gusto I had forgotten. The speedometer had stopped working the day I left Leh, so I relied upon the tachometer to estimate my speeds. It suggested speeds in excess of 110kmph which surprised me because I hardly felt any strain in my limbs. Must be my lucky day, I thought to myself.

After two days of fun and relaxation, it was time to return home. Nothing on my way till Nanjangud suggested the trouble that lay ahead. I already had a jinx to break- never returning to Bangalore in less than 12 hours. I was determined to do it in less than 7 hours this time!

My friend and I had just crossed Nanajangud when I felt the beat skip once. It felt weird but I carried on at the same speed- somewhere in the 80s.

And then suddenly, I began to choke. What started as a gasp, turned into a sputter, and soon became a full-blown coughing fit. I pulled over to the side, not knowing what to do. I stood by the roadside for a while, wondering if I should keep moving. My friend had returned by then to check up on me, and we called up his doctor to find out what we should do.

I don't know what he suggested, but the waiting seemed to have helped. I started, but soon began to choke. Remembering my doctor's advice (finally!) to not exert myself, I started on a slower note.

We had just moved ahead for around 20kms when we noticed two other guys had pulled over because they had some trouble with their motorcycles. All they needed was a band-aid for the electrics and they were ready to go. But not me.

The problem had resurfaced and I found myself trembling and gasping even with a little exertion. The boys tried a few home-recommended remedies while asking if I wanted to be sent back home. Trucks whizzed past me, and I took my time to relax and think. It looked like the jinx was waiting to have its last laugh...

We must have waited there for an hour. I guess patience of the others was slowly wearing off- it did not look like I could do anything, nor did I want to do anything.

'Since you are not looking to take a transport back home yet, try reaching Mysore and then we'll get some assistance if you still need it' one suggested. Mysore was less than 20kms from there, so I agreed.

I led from the front in all that Sunday traffic, while the rest tailed me closely in case I required any assistance. I turned off the highway onto the city's bypass road- I was sure I would not be able to handle the stress of city traffic. The others were bemused but they stuck by me.

After what seemed like an agonising wait, we were back on to the highway to Bangalore. I felt much better and decided I would not stop come what may. Even my past history at Mandya could not do anything to change my mind.

I carried on, my confidence showed in the speeds I was hitting. Soon I was moving in the late 90s, only marred by regular speed-breakers and traffic outside towns en route. The others slowly dropped off- hunger got the better of them. As we approached Bangalore's NICE road junction at Kengeri, it was just the two of us as how it was at the beginning of the day.

He expected me to take the turn to NICE road and go home. But I had a different plan. I decided to go to see my other "surgeon-doctor", braving the city traffic. After all, my confidence was never this high all day!

Thirty minutes later, I pulled up outside the "clinic" and informed my doctor about the problem.

* * * * *

'I have a lot of other important things to do today. If this is urgent, come tomorrow' the doctor said.

'I had enough trouble on my way today, I am not sure if the bike will start tomorrow. I will leave it here with you, you take a look when you get the time and let me know what to do' I pleaded. He thought for a while and then nodded his head.

Two days later, I got a call from the “surgeon-doctor” shop. It was his son.

'Ed uncle, bike ka bore-piston gaya. Badli karna so' he said. It was the last thing I expected to hear.

Garud needs a heart transplant, in order to not choke, sputter or have a coughing fit on the highway.

All because a tear in his heart turned into a full-blown rupture.