When I was advised to shift from my newly done up room on the sixth floor to the Medical Intensive Care Unit (MICU) I was understandably perturbed, especially because I knew that the Bronchoscopy would be scheduled there as well.

What I didn’t like about the MICU was the fact that it was an ocean bereft of privacy and due to the very nature of the patients I was bound to come face to face with death and despair. True to expectation that is exactly what happened, but in a manner most expected.

A couple of years back when I was admitted into the MICU, I was confronted with a strange occurrence. A man, obviously from a family that had considerable clout in the hospital asked about some lady and was informed that she had passed away just half an hour ago.

No! he roared, and announced that she had to pass away a few minutes later. The hospital readily agreed and I was too busy with coming to terms with my own new surroundings even to be baffled. Many weeks after the incident I was casually informed that the change of timing of death of the lady was on religious and astrology grounds.

Apparently there are people who believe in the concept of even dying at a good time. I found it funny, but quite insignificant and irrelevant. One more nugget of information that I tucked away not expecting it to ever glitter.

So imagine my surprise when I walked into MICU a couple of days back the scene was played back with almost frame by frame accuracy.

The same man walked in. Asked when a lady had passed away. Half an hour ago, the hospital informed him. No! he roared. And changed the records to show that the lady in question actually passed away a few minutes after her death. And I checked in, ready to ride the broncho, which I did with very satisfying colours.

But the sense of déjà vu remains a mysterious aura which surrounds my little nugget (now two) and glitters saying I must find out more. I will. I will.

The moment I wipe the smile of my glowing countenance.