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Yes, you guessed it right. I was in the ICU ward. During my fourteen days in the ICU before gaining consciousness, I was on ventilator support and on constant sedation. Apart from this, my eyes were also covered to prevent them from drying and causing irritation to the brain from visual stimuli. Before you read on, I must do this one little thing – Disclaimer notice: I don’t really have many memories of the first week after I regained consciousness. Whatever I do know, is from whatever my family has told me. During the week post acquirement of consciousness in the ICU, (as narrated by my parents) there were many interesting things that (apparently) happened which I feel compelled to share with you. After I strted to regain my senses, the flood of visitors began, many of whom would ask me, “How are you?” To each and every single one of them, my reply was a thumbs up, even when almost nothing was working. I guess the morphine really helped, haha! A few days back into my senses, my parents and the nurses brought in a whiteboard and a marker-pen so I could write and communicate my thoughts, since my voice box had decided to go on a mini vacation for the first three months. In other words, I could not speak. Among the many first visitors were my teachers from school. They had been going full power on the prayers ever since the news got out. One of the FAQs asked by the “school visitor gang” was: Everybody at school is asking, when are you coming back? The answer to which was, as I wrote on my white board and as you can see below (good luck crossing the hand-writing level) –

I also seemed to have made numerous friends in the ICU with the nurses and ward support staff, which I find quite miraculous, considering the fact that I could not speak, move, or practically do anything at all except maybe nod lightly and write in a manner that even the doctors, known for their calligraphic talents, could not decipher. There are, however, some blurred, vague memories of my parents holding my hand & talking to me. There is also a fuzzy picture in my head of somebody coming and moving my left hand and leg around, which my parents tell me was the physiotherapist. I guess, the ICU isn’t that bad a place as they make it seem, after all.  Anything can be fun if you want to make it so! The doctors told my parents that they were not sure of my long-term memory, my sense of time, left side movement, among many other things, and how this would impact my recovery and condition later. Yet, my parents looked ahead as they strongly believed that the road to recovery had only one way and that was getting better. Their faith and conviction paid off and I was moved to a normal ward off ventilator. It was now that the real work was going to start. It’s crazy how two (conscious) weeks can feel like an eternity. Especially, when you’re in the ICU. Einstein, I hate you for relativity. After almost what seemed like a lifetime, I was shifted to the “normal” ward, where, for the first half week, they proceeded to bring my horses under control – I mean, completely stabilize me and calm my brain (as an organ), as it had suffered quite a big shock. From then on, my memory seems to have been performing better, for I remember most of the journey that followed. So how did I go from the nearly-dead, weak and immobile state to the back-to-school, blog-writing, living kid here? We will set off on that voyage together, from Log 4.