The Military M.I Room!!

Have been off the blog radar for exactly 11 months now, far long from what I would have liked. The reason for being incommunicado on the blog has been more conscious. I would have liked to shoot off a few now and then but thought best that I reflect before I write. These last 11 months have been filled with highs and lows , good times and more recently some untimely events , scars of which will heal slowly only with time.

The events off late  however have been reminding me of the phase of my life in which I was an Army Brat, carefree and more important never worried about being ill, be it broken bones, wounds, the flu or illness with names we couldn't pronounce.

 



Indian Naval Hospital Ship Ashvini : My Birth Place

 I guess for me the comfort of the M.I room being so close to home, where ever that was, along with the invisible but protective layer of belonging to the Fauji Family did the magic.

In addition ,I was born in a Military Hospital, all my teenage broken bones were mended there, I got my chin stitched in the middle of the night there after bleeding for a couple of hours and sleeping sound until my parents arrived and discovered the new extreme sport of  powder skating that I had invented.

We could walk in any time, and if we were accompanied by my dad we would first get some gleaming salutes which at times would make me forget why we were there in the first place. My mother who needed constant medical care, would just walk in and walk out of the M.I room, no money , no insurance, just a name, rank and number.

Of course all of this was thanks to the Armed Forces Medical Services who silently with care and at times brutally (I remember a Colonel Surgeon pressing my broken toe as though I was an enemy and was going to sing some classified information to him due to the pain, this at the age of 11) had the onus of getting us in shape. 

There were lows as well , the unending lines, the packed wards, the food (God forbid you got admitted), the medical category committees the Officers dreaded as it could ruin their career and at times vital machines were out of service. But all in all never was there doubt of recovery , cause in the end somehow you knew that they would put you back on track.

Whether an Officer, an Other Rank or just family they just wanted you to be out in SHAPE1, by hook or by crook!!