Second Go chronicles the story of Radhika Sachdev. A single mom and breadwinner of the family, her life takes a turn when she finds out that she had a tumour in her liver. But despite the gravity of her illness, Radhika stays strong and determined.
Narrating a moving and inspiring story, here is a book that imbues hope and inspires courage through a real account of a liver transplant recipient. Below you can read an excerpt from this book. Courtesy: Fingerprint.
An excerpt from the book, Second Go
I am woken up at 5.30 a.m. I brush my teeth, take a bath with the antiseptic gel and change into my new set of buttonless cotton tunic and pyjamas, hair tightly braided, as instructed.
At 6.00 a.m. I am served my cold breakfast of two brown bread vegetable sandwiches and a weak milky tea. I have also been given my regular blood pressure and diabetes tabs. After this, I will consume no food or liquids until the next morning.
The two invasive procedures are tentatively scheduled for 3.00 p.m. but I will be wheeled into the Operation Theatre at 11.00 a.m., so will be able to post my next dispatch tomorrow when I wake up from the impact of general anaesthesia.
The two procedures, breast conservation and D&C will be done almost simultaneously by two different surgeons, Mandar Nadkarni and Maya Gade respectively, both members of my liver transplant surgeon Dr Vinay Kumaran’s multi-speciality team.
When a junior doctor from the oncology team arrives to explain the procedure to me and catches my shocked expression, he rushes in to reassure me with “Don’t worry. We will fight to preserve your breasts.”
The doctor from the gynaecology team also takes pains to explain that if worse comes to worse, they will remove the uterus, but “look at the positive side, the polyp may be benign. We will know from the biopsy.”
I try not to wince.
The actual course of action, I am given to understand, would be decided in the OT based on what the biopsy reveals and my consent for further procedures before giving me the general anaesthesia, or later, my family’s consent. Till then, fingers crossed.
The two biopsy results would be available to the waiting surgeons in half an hour, at the earliest.
Ideally a patient with a decompensated liver is not able to tolerate general anaesthesia. “That’s my worry but we don’t have an option,” my concerned pathologist Dr Gaurav Mehta tells me. Whatever be the outcome I am picking very good vibes from my doctors here, and that’s a big plus.
Everything has been timed and tied to perfection. Nothing can go wrong, so chin up, my family tells me.
While I write this, I am waiting for the call from the OT.
But before that I must make one phone call to a new client who wants to negotiate prices before signing the contract. I must have the deal in my bag before my procedures.
Business as usual.